Chapter 28
Austin
My first full day back in New York, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I got a call from Jesse early this morning with
good news on the coaching front, but all it did was make me want to move around.
So, I did what I’d been doing a lot the last couple years—seeing if there was anything Zoya needed.
She had her hands full with her demonstration kitchen in Park Slope. The storefront in Brooklyn was lined on one side with
windows, and on a bright day, the sun filled the entire room and bounced off the stainless-steel fridges that spanned the
back wall. She worked with a couple culinary schools and did private classes and events. Zoya also used the space for her
catering business, which had been picking up steam over the last year.
“Two teams are interested?” Zoya slapped a proud hand on my back. “They grow up so fast.”
My meetings with Farnham and Remy had gone well, and it took the pressure off Jesse at my management company since I was making
strides to secure my future.
“Gee, thanks,” I drawled, tapping my fingers against the dark counters.
We sat on stools next to each other in front of the largest countertop at the front of the room, usually where she’d demo
before letting the groups go off to attempt recipes on their own.
This was exactly what Jesse wanted, and honestly, I was ready to move on. Move in a different direction. But the more I pictured
it, the more I was sure it didn’t involve me leaving the States again. I wanted to work on something that meant more to me
than a next step. And that had become crystal clear in Paris.
“Speaking of, I was actually hoping to get your help with something.”
Before Zoya owned and operated a demonstration kitchen and burgeoning catering service, she had run Theo’s company. It was
how they’d met.
She was the MBA behind the man with an incredibly successful tech start-up. When Theo got sick, it was right around the time
of the IPO; they had made a very comfortable nest egg with that sale. And Zoya had decided to slow down, spend time with Theo
while she had it, and when he was gone, she’d started doing something else she loved.
“Sure, but try this first.” She handed me what looked like a pastry from across the counter.
I took a bite of the flaky crust, expecting it to be sweet.
I coughed and heat spread all along my mouth, pushing a few tears from the corners of my eyes. I covered my mouth with my
hand as I chewed and looked up at Zoya. “Why do you need to throw chiles in everything?”
I coughed and happily accepted the water she handed me.
“Too spicy?”
I winced. “A little.”
I coughed again; it was like eating fire.
“I’ll have someone else try it.” She scrunched her nose and ran a towel over the counter one last time before taking a seat.
“What do you need help with?”
“The foundation has new funding. But also, we might have capital investment, real capital. I think we have an avenue to create
a youth league. Training faculty. With enough funding, it can be self-sufficient, maybe expand like Theo and I always hoped.”
Wide eyes paused on me for a second before blinking a few times. Her mouth hung slightly open before it closed and she sat
up straighter. Her face filled with all the questions she probably wasn’t going to ask, because I’d seen that face before—every
time Joseen would reach a new milestone and Zoya didn’t want to overreact.
“Okay . . .” she said slowly, the excitement rising in her shoulders.
I’d never really taken the lead, but over the last couple weeks I had stopped feeling so lost. I had a direction, and it was
an uphill climb, but so was my entire career and that had worked out. I chalked it up to luck, but maybe I had it in me to
be more than just the athlete.
Or at the very least, try.
Whatever questions she had, she ignored. With a beaming smile, she looked up in thought. “How much capital are we talking?”
“Probably more than we need,” I told her. Taking Xander Sutton up on his offer meant proposals and plans and math. All things I was terrible with. “But I might need some help.”
“Lucky for you, my job is pretty flexible.” She grinned. She took the pastry I couldn’t eat and finished it off like it was
made of nothing. Not a single reaction to what had felt like the fires of hell in each bite.
“They really do grow up so fast.” She beamed proudly. Then she looked at me with an inquisitory smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Her smile only got more suspicious looking, crooked on one end, and she looked like she was inspecting every single
one of my features, hunting for something.
“You’re looking at me like you look at Jo when she sneaks a cupcake before dinner.”
“You’re just . . .” She leaned back against the high-top chair’s metal backing. “Different.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I know where you’re—”
“How was Paris?” With a flourish, she pulled herself forward and folded one hand on top of the other on the countertop. “You
know, the wedding.”
“Good,” I answered curtly.
Her shoulders fell dramatically.
“So, you had that hot doctor in a hotel room for a week and nothing happened?” She wiped a hand down her face. “How are you
a professional athlete with zero game?”
“It’s not any of your business. Besides, I don’t kiss and tell.”
I tried not to smile but all the ways things had happened with Isa flashed through my mind.
“Oh, please.” With a dismissive flick of her hand and an eye roll, Zoya crossed her arms. “I remember you and Theo practically giggling
on the phone when you had that penchant for dating models years ago.”
“We weren’t giggling,” I snapped. “It was serious and manly.”
“Fine, don’t kiss and tell. But . . . that grin”—she pointed around my face—“leads me to believe you had sex, so . . .”
I winced. “Please stop.”
“I’m not asking about details.” She recoiled. “I mean . . . tell me what you’re going to do now. Are you going out?” Zoya slapped her hands on the counter
and looked around the space as if it were brand-new and her mind was filling with ideas. “You should bring her here. The demonstration
kitchen is a hit for—”
“She’s busy. It was just a fling for the wedding.” I stopped Zoya before she started picking out china patterns.
“So, you’re not going on a date with her?” Zoya pressed. “Ever?”
“Well . . .” I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes, tired. “Instead of trying to live vicariously through me, you could go on date.”
“Or.” She swung forward menacingly, sitting up straight to make her point. “You could stop being a little bitch and make some
actual plans with her. You’re practically beaming. I cannot believe she has nothing to do with it.”
I wanted to see Isa and hadn’t stopped thinking about her since we’d gotten back. But that was only a day ago. And I didn’t
want to be a thing on her long list of tasks. And, quite frankly, Isa was intimidating as hell. And sexy.
Funny. Beautiful.
I wanted to see her again. And regularly.
I pulled out my phone to text her. Just as I started, Zoya slapped it away.
“Oh my God.” Her whole face contorted. “You’re a grown-up. Call her. Or even better, you know where she occasionally works.”
She gestured her hands open in front of me like it was obvious. “Be cute. Or thoughtful or charming.” She put both hands on
her face and shook her head. “Zero game.”
I was sure something real with me wasn’t in Isa’s plans. But plans changed. Hell, over the last few weeks more had changed
in my vision of the future than in the last decade.
Excitement filled me.
It didn’t have to become anything, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t try. Blake let himself lose her, and I knew not to be so
stupid as to let someone like her go.