6. Chapter 6
Ames
It's eight in the morning. The professional kitchen that houses my business is dark when I arrive. Without the tight schedule to supply food to the network, most people won't be needed until ten, when prep for the Thunderdome delivery starts.
Damn. I only have eight clients. A few single individuals who are rich enough and busy enough to outsource the cooking part of being an adult.
It's why I dragged myself out of Saint's bed— well, guest bed to come to the office. I need to look at the numbers, see how long I have until I have to restructure, downsize or, worse, close up shop.
My stomach hurts at the thought. Anxiety fists and squeezes the poor organ.
I walk through the tiny reception area and go straight into the hallway. A small meeting room is at the front of the space, next to my office. Past these two square rooms, the large cooking area takes eighty percent of the unit I rent.
Everything is white and stainless steel. Pristine and orderly. It isn't about getting things symmetrical or perfectly aligned, so much as wanting things to be done the right way. There is always a right way to do things, if you look hard enough .
All lights remain off as I go into my office and close the door. I keep the room pitch-dark for a second longer. The moment I turn on the light, I'll have to turn on the computer. Check my emails. Do the accounting. Cross my fingers and hope a plan reveals itself to me.
No established, long-term relationship. No secure, growing business.
"Shit," I mutter into the darkness.
It's not the time for wallowing. Not at work.
I take a deep breath and turn on the light.
My office is functional and undecorated.
A simple white box with no windows, and a wooden desk with a computer on top.
A filing cabinet hides underneath next to my leg, and a single bookshelf sits at my back.
All the color comes from the corkboard on the wall next to me, where a hundred sticky notes in bright shades of pink, orange, and green wait for my attention.
Recipe tweaks I'd like to try, flavor combinations to experiment with, and ingredients I want to research for my athlete clients…
One day, I'll have time to be playful and discover again.
To enjoy the balance of chemistry and artistry that go into creating a meal, and sharing it with the world.
Creating warmth and communion through food.
Today I have to lose myself in admin work and projections.
Two hours later, Jo finds me with my hands in a praying position, my eyes locked on the screen.
"Hey." She brings two mugs of coffee with her, and she places one on my desk.
She sits in front of me.
I lift my eyes to my friend. "Hi. Thanks for the coffee."
"It's good to see you here. How long has it been? Two weeks?"
"Yeah. Thanks for keeping things going."
"The business side has never been easier with the sudden drop in deadlines. But the mood? Everyone's anxious, Ames."
Jo holds her own mug of coffee in her hand. Her long, straight black hair is always in a ponytail, and it waterfalls over one of her shoulders. Her bold eyeliner is familiar, drawing my sight to her heavy-lidded eyes .
She stares at me, unwavering.
I sigh. "I feared we only had a few months to find a new big client and after looking at the numbers today— yeah. Two months if I want to keep everyone employed. Three if we really stretch it and I'm willing to go into debt. Any longer, and I have to get loans or… well. Worse."
Jo knows it means closure.
Three months, at the end of the day. Just like Saint's timeline.
"We need to get busy, then," Jo says.
It's true. Every cell in my body recognizes it. That's why the reality of my situation comes with worry, and with small tremors everywhere.
I bite my lip. "Do you think that the smoothie video will make it harder to find clients?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I did was so immature, Jo."
My teeth go harder on the flesh of my mouth.
My lack of composure that morning has kept me up at night.
Aidan is known in the industry. Even if embarrassing him felt like revenge— a poor substitute to justice— it also showed my emotional side at my place of work.
They could have decided I'm unprofessional, unreliable, undeserving of future contracts…
"Well, let's see." She sips from her drink. "Did you plan it?"
"What do you mean? Of course not."
"So it was a spur of the moment thing."
"It just happened. I was furious!"
And feeling absolutely embarrassed myself. Everyone at SBN knows me, and was aware I lived with Aidan. Did everyone know he'd been fooling around with someone else? When they smiled hello at me, were they secretly snickering behind my back?
My cheeks warm up. I taste my coffee, hoping Jo won't notice how flustered I am .
"Then I say you should own what you did and be proud," she says. "It might be your only chance at balancing the scales."
"But what if I'm blacklisted now? Suddenly, I lost my most likely network of clients if I aim to get another TV show to cater to. I should have controlled myself better."
"And waited until no one was there to see? But then you would have missed out on the satisfaction! I'm sure that ruining his perfect hair must have felt good."
I laugh. "Don't tell anyone, but yeah."
"And when I zoomed into the video— I'm pretty sure some of it ruined her blouse, too."
My friend may have been trying to lift my spirits, but her words land heavy on my chest. I've tried hard not to think of the woman Aiden cheated on me with. I'm angry at her, sure, but it's him who deserves my rage above all.
He had made a commitment to me. He broke that promise.
"Has he reached out to you yet?" Jo asks.
I shake my head. "And I have not gone to pick my things."
"He texted me." She purses her lips. "It said, 'please talk to her.'"
My mouth opens in a silent gasp. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"No idea. I didn't reply."
Irritation climbs up my torso, that he reached out to my right hand at work rather than to me. Saint is right— Aidan is a coward.
I shake my head. "I think he wants me to reach out. It's a power move of sorts. To show him I'm hurt, or missing him, or something ."
To know he matters enough to me to be shattered at the breakup. Meanwhile, I spend my days worrying more about repeating my mistakes in love and trying to salvage my business, than the fact Aidan won't be a part of my future.
At times, I wonder if I was in love with him at all.
"Do you want to reach out?" Jo asks.
Through the years, there would be times when I looked at Aidan and wondered if what I felt was love.
Even now, I'm not sure, but I can't see what else love could be.
They say that after the honeymoon is over, love is peace, trust, and safety.
I had those things with him— or I thought I did.
Comfort filled our days. We were calm . If that isn't conducive to forever, I don't know what is.
I rub my lips together and shake my head again. "I don't know what I would tell him that I didn't already scream in his face. All I have are questions. Why did he do it? That kind of thing. But I'm not ready to hear the answers."
Maybe I didn't give the right things back. It's possible I don't know what real love is… or how to build it, or how to show it. Hearing him give me excuses may not be an answer to anything, and it might confirm things I fear about myself. And it won't be the thing that will fix my career.
I place the mug on my desk again and run my fingers over my face, then through my hair. "I don't regret what I did, I guess, and I have to stop procrastinating about getting my things. But for the next little while, this kitchen is my focus."
"Sounds good to me. I'll reach out to everyone I know in search of leads. We can ask everyone here to do the same."
I nod.
She echoes the movement. "I'm glad to see you're not devastated, my friend."
I go back to chewing my lip. I'm sure it says something that I don't miss Aidan. I miss the certainty I used to have before I knew of his betrayal. And I miss the security that came with thinking I had decoded the key to forever.
"It's very telling that I'm not," I admit, "but I'm not sure what it means."
"It's okay if you're confused. It's been only two weeks! And you were together for a long time."
"You get it. I am confused. In such a short time I went from heartbroken to deleting him from my heart. Four whole years together with one other person. I should be crushed ."
Instead, all I think about these days is how to build a better future. One where he's not included.
I let out a deep, deep sigh.
"Whatever you're feeling, it's valid." Confidence fills her words .
"Are we sure about that?" I raise an eyebrow. "How can you say it's valid if we don't know what that is?"
She lifts a shoulder like she's not concerned in the least. "I'm biased and I think you've never done anything wrong ever. I'm okay with that."
I laugh.
"I'm not worried." She winks. "You'll figure it out. Just take the time to break the pattern. Don't jump into another relationship you'll try to make work for way too long."
I gaze at my lap. Jo and I aren't best friends, but we're close enough she sees the errors in my ways. Her words sting, but they help. She's right.
I nod.
"Now let's go outside and have a chat with everyone," she says. "Let's tell them there's a plan and that we're a team. They need to hear it from you."
With a flutter in my stomach, I do as I’m told.