Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aubrey
I stood along the wall of windows in the hospital waiting room with my phone to my ear, as out of the way as I could get not to disturb others.
“I know that explanation might not be enough,” the soon-to-be bride said on the other end of the line, “but you’re our first catering choice, and I at least had to try.
” It had been her engagement party the food blogger had written that negative review about.
It turned out the food blogger was her cousin.
She’d invited him as family, not thinking he’d use the party for his blog. It was only after her maid of honor called her, furious at how he’d taken her comment about her grandmother out of context, that the bride had learned about the article at all.
Apparently, the maid of honor’s grandmother had been a professional chef who usually hated catered events because she found the food either bland, cold, overcooked, all of the above, or simply a variation of the same four dishes there seemed to be at every wedding.
The blogger overheard her say the food was something her grandmother would love and, without knowing the full story, took it and ran.
Now the bride was mortified, especially since she and her fiancé had their hearts set on Arden Catering for the reception.
“My cousin will not be attending,” she assured me. Someone said something in the background, and she huffed. “Fine, but he’s not eating the food. He can have microwaved chicken nuggets at the kids’ table and blog about that.”
“I’ll have to double-check the calendar to confirm, but I don’t believe we have any other events scheduled for that week,” I told her. “We’d be happy to cater your wedding. I’m honestly thrilled you reached back out.”
I wouldn’t even care if her cousin blogged about it again. It’d be nice to have the chance to change his opinion. Maybe redeem myself and Arden Catering.
The bride let out an audible sigh. “Really? I can’t tell you how much that would mean to us.”
“Really.” Knowing how much they liked the food was satisfying enough. And now that I had Mack on the team, we’d be able to go all out to make it a truly special day. “Let me check the calendar, and I’ll confirm with you by the end of the week. After that, we can talk details.”
“Aubrey, thank you,” she said. “This is such a huge relief.”
Evan appeared at my side and leaned against the window.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Talk soon.”
“Good news?” Evan asked as I hung up.
“Validation, mostly.” I told him about the blogger mix-up.
He rolled his eyes. “This is why I hate weddings.”
“Food bloggers?”
“A bunch of extended family doing ridiculous shit.”
I chuckled. “But they give you money.”
“If you’re lucky. One of my friend’s brothers got a used handheld mixer with food still crusted on it.”
My eyes widened. “No.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Maybe it was a family heirloom. Or like a magic object that grants you a wish after you eat whatever you make with it.”
“Or people are cheap and fucking gross, and I’m never getting married.”
I pouted. “But then, you’ll miss out on all the epic catering I’ll do with my awesome new team. Mack and I just perfected some of my favorite dishes I’ve ever cooked.”
We’d fine-tuned the last details of the competition menu this morning, then gone to Ardena to plate fresh versions and photograph them in the dining room.
Jase and the guys gave their input on the photos, and I was glad to see how comfortable Mack seemed around them.
Hopefully, we could work out a regular staff meal or shift-drink combo like Jase suggested to make this dynamic the norm.
Now, all that was left for the competition was to finalize the written portion, which Dani had offered to proofread for me tonight.
I’d submit everything tomorrow, one day before the deadline, and I could honestly say it didn’t matter to me if we won.
I wanted us to and hoped we would, but I didn’t need the award recognition to know the value I brought to Arden Catering and the Ardena brand.
In many ways, the competition pushed me to accept that value by reminding me what I was capable of.
Dealing with such a shitstorm of a time finding a sous chef helped too.
Not only by forcing me to take on so much by myself and prove I could do it but also by reminding me of the things outside of cooking I brought to this position.
Like showing up on time. Keeping my word. Finding creative solutions. Trusting my instincts.
I used to believe never needing help was what made me valuable, but it wasn’t. If anything, what I brought to the table had been in spite of not asking for help. It was time to see how much more I could learn by doing the opposite.
“Guess I’ll just have to settle for your holiday party food,” Evan said.
I accepted defeat. “Fine. Your dad still napping?” He had been when I’d texted Evan on my way to the hospital. The call from the bride-to-be had come as I’d gotten off the elevator.
“He just woke up. The nurse brought him dinner, so I figured I’d grab some food too.”
“Isn’t the cafeteria closed?”
“Yeah. I’m going off campus.”
I raised my brows, shocked he felt comfortable leaving for that long.
He shrugged. “Gabe’s with him.”
A flurry of emotion swirled in my chest. I didn’t mention that only a few days ago, Gabe being around would have put Evan more on guard, not less. It was a relief to see his face free from the anger it had been lined with for so long. To hear love for his brother when he said Gabe’s name.
It also made it that much harder not to seek Gabe out, to be in his physical proximity while I still could. To catch his smile grow as I walked into the room and feel my body settle in the cradle of his arms.
Already, I missed him. The sturdiness of his presence and the gentleness of his heart. The way he steadied me by just being near.
I could use some of that steadiness. We hadn’t texted the past two days due to everything with his dad, and in some ways, it felt like the distance to Colorado was slipping between us even before he left for his new job.
Maybe it was easier that way—to simply let what we’d shared these months fade rather than endure the heartache of another goodbye. To fall back into the sporadic rhythm of texting how we had when he’d been in London, still connected to each other but not as present.
Or maybe, the cord between us would keep stretching until it eventually snapped.
“I’ll go with you,” I said to Evan, not ready to face either option. Plus, my lunch had been nothing but a few tastes of the competition’s dishes, and that had been hours ago.
We took a few steps toward the elevators before Evan spoke. “About Gabe.”
“You can save your I told you so,” I said before he could pry open the can of emotions I’d just managed to contain. “I already told him to take the job.”
I got why Evan had been worried about Gabe abandoning me the way he’d felt abandoned after everything with their mom. The way I had felt abandoned in my past too.
But this wasn’t that. Gabe had never promised me anything more, and I’d never asked him to. I’d specifically not asked him to, and I was glad I hadn’t forced myself between him and his dream.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I think you should tell him how you feel.”
My heart jumped as I stamped the “down” button for the elevator. I crossed my arms. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you should drop this ‘it’s only sex’ act and tell him you have real feelings for him.
And before you say anything,” he added when I opened my mouth to protest, “let’s pretend like I’ve been your best friend for over twenty years and know you well enough to tell when you’re lying. Even to yourself.”
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped on. Evan pushed the button for the ground floor.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” I asked, not bothering to deny how well he knew me. “Aren’t you the one who was convinced he’d leave? Now you think I should, what? Ask him to stay when he just got offered his dream job?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
I adjusted my balance as the elevator lurched into motion.
“So are you going to do it?”
I huffed. “No way.”
“Why not?”
My shoulders tensed as if to block out the suggestion. “Because this job is everything he wants. It wouldn’t be fair for me to ask him to give it up after what he’s dealt with in his career.”
Evan opened his mouth—
“And no avoiding the question,” I said, cutting him off this time. “Why the change of heart?”
He heaved a sigh and leaned against the stainless steel wall. “Everything that happened yesterday sort of forced me to realize the anger I was hanging on to wasn’t all about Gabe. You were right. I wasn’t being fair to him.”
His eyes flashed with an apology, and I nodded in acceptance. I cared more that he seemed interested in a relationship with his brother again than I did about being right.
“But you’re wrong about this being his dream job,” he said.
I scowled at him. “He called it his dream job.”
“He may have used those words, but it’s not everything he wants. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have he told me this morning that he doesn’t know if he’s going to take it.”
My stomach flipped the same moment the elevator jolted to a stop. The doors opened, and Evan strode for the hospital’s main entrance
“You guys talked?” I asked, hurrying after him.
“We did.” He said it as if it felt good. Like they had found a way to move forward that brought relief. “I think he wants to stay but doesn’t know if he should. And I think you’re part of the reason why.”
My pulse was a fluttering mess. “He said that?”
“No,” Evan said as we crossed toward 10th Street. There was a comfort-food café we both liked that had a buffalo chicken mac and cheese I would shave my head for right now. “He said you were just friends, but I can tell when he’s lying as easily as I can with you. Especially to himself.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, barely avoiding collision with a trash can as I stepped around a flock of pigeons pecking at a scrap of food.