Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Madison didn’t like having one ear cocked toward the door.
She hadn’t done that since living in the roach motel apartment she’d grown up in with her father in Liberty City. In those days, she’d listened for crazies breaking in looking to find any money they could use to feed their drug habit.
Even Pierre had caught her nervousness as she prowled around the kitchen, prepping for their New Year’s family dinner. The parrot watched her from his perch, his black eyes missing nothing, and called out softly, “?a va?” to which she responded tightly, “?a va.”
You had to love the French. The same two words. Two different meanings, depending on the punctuation. Except she wasn’t fine. Nothing was good. And she didn’t know where the hell Kyle was.
Sure, she’d slipped out to walk off some of her frustration this morning. But he was supposed to be here, calmly waiting like usual at the kitchen island, paper in hand with a café crème.
Where could he be? It was New Year’s morning. Nothing was open, and he wasn’t really a walker. He’d probably tossed and turned like she had after leaving the party at different times. She’d had a good excuse—fatigue from her holiday restaurant hours—and he’d let her go home alone.
She’s appreciated the space, since the After-Kiss was worse than any Morning After she’d had.
She stirred the batter for her Tres Leches cake, poured it into the pan, and set it in the oven. Since Thea and Jean Luc were supposed to still be on their honeymoon, she’d told Nanine she’d make dessert.
Sure, little sister had popped back early, but she’d already made the commitment.
Her mind flashed back to last night, to getting caught making out with Kyle in the hallway like they were in high school. God, she’d been embarrassed going back into the party. Everyone knew… Of course they did. Today’s dinner was going to be fun. But she really needed to talk to Kyle.
“Pierre!” She set the timer for the cake and fought the urge to pound her head on the kitchen island. “Madison messed up last night.”
He gave one of his scary almost humanlike cries as he flew to her shoulder. Nuzzling her hair with his beak, he squawked, “Non. Tout est bien.”
She hugged the little guy, her most surprising friend of all.
Well, she’d become best friends with the Golden Boy. Why not a culinary-minded parrot?
“I wish everything was good.”
An errant sound had her jumping, but it was only something metal in the oven expanding due to the cooking temperature. She hated being on edge, but a certain kind of danger hung in the air. The sense that her whole life could change on a dime.
She’d felt that way walking home from school as a kid with gangs casing the corners, and when her father had come home drunk again with no money, ensuring there would be no groceries.
Learning to cook had been as much about finding a way to feed herself as creating an escape.
She’d learned cooking was like a puzzle at first.
Later, she’d discovered mastery. How to blend different flavors, textures, and even colors to create a work of art people would write about in food magazines and tell their friends they must try.
She loved her job as much as she loved Kyle, and she didn’t think she could have both.
Another sound had Pierre squawking, and this time she heard footsteps.
Only they weren’t Kyle’s. His had a heavier sound, given his height and size.
These steps belonged to a woman, and she didn’t have Brooke’s rapid-fire gait.
When Thea appeared in the doorway in a chic black traveling suit, Madison wanted to bang her head on the counter all over again.
“What are you doing here? Thea, I’m sorry about what happened last night. If you’re here because you’re worried about me and Kyle, don’t be. Get back to your honeymoon. Please!”
Her honorary little sister only smiled as she walked over and wrapped her up in a gentle hug. Pierre flew to the kitchen island to give them a moment. She tried not to be awkward in the face of so much love.
After a moment, Thea leaned back, her face soft with concern. “I came to talk to you before Jean Luc and I head out again. Will you sit down with me?”
She’d rather gut a fish, but Thea was her friend. “Sure.”
She slid onto a barstool and tugged Madison down next to her before reaching into her purse and pulling something out. “This is for you.”
A recipe card?
“Do you have a new bread you want to try for the bakery?”
Thea only gave her an indulgent smile. “No. This is a starter recipe for you to work on. Do you remember when we’d get those in culinary school, and the assignment was to create our own spin on the template?”
The challenge had been her way of impressing teachers and earning their respect. “I do.”
“Except this one isn’t for food.” Thea waved the card as Pierre wandered over. “Take a look.”
Madison gaped as she took it and read Thea’s clear writing.
Recipe for: Madison’s Delicious Partnership
Date: January 1
Prep time: NOW
Ingredients: Trust, Belief, Friendship, Experimentation, Humor, Dating, Joy
Hard-to-find ingredients: see Belief above, Faith in the man you love
Notes: You can do it! You already love and trust Kyle, and that’s the biggest part.
Let your friends help you. Let love enhance your creativity and help you cook better.
Let it make you believe even bigger things are possible, in life and food.
Put yourself out there more. Let the walls down.
Maybe ask Brooke for a podcast recommendation.
That joke about Brooke had her sputtering. “Thea, this idea is really sweet, but I’m not like you. I don’t even know what a delicious partnership is. I’d be laughed out of my old neighborhood if I even mentioned it.”
When she tried to hand the card back, Thea only covered her hands. “You’re not in your old neighborhood. You’re here in Paris. But I know how you feel. When I first came here, I was in Paris, but my mind was back in my small town of Nowheresville. Do you remember?”
Madison suddenly wished her cake would catch fire so she’d have an excuse to grab a fire extinguisher and end this painful conversation.
“Thea, I’m not like you and Sawyer and the others.
I don’t think this way. I cook. That’s who I am.
You guys are all about self-improvement and doing the whole journal thing. ”
“J’adore cette recette,” Pierre commented with a squawk.
“You little traitor,” she shot back but stroked his head affectionately.
Thea gave her the most serious look Madison had ever seen on her sweet face. “I’m going to tell you something, and as my friend, you need to listen. Okay?”
Not the friend guilt thing. She was doomed. “All right, Thea. I’m listening.”
“You’ve been saying how much better all of my baking is recently, from conception to execution.”
“You’re at the height of your game.”
“Do you know why I believe that’s happened?” Thea pressed.
She could hear it coming a mile away. “No, what?” she hedged.
“We cook with love, right?”
She couldn’t deny it. Nanine had taught them you had to cook from your most treasured place. “Sure.”
Thea bit her lip to contain her smile. “So…it tracks that when we have more love in our lives, we can cook with even more love.”
God, this logic was as mind-numbing as staring at the New York Times crossword puzzle.
“Look, I know what you’re saying. You fell for Jean Luc.
All that love you have for him translates to happy hormones in the kitchen.
Bam. You’re baking the best bread you’ve ever baked.
And it all circles back to the high you’re on with Jean Luc. ”
“Exactly!” she cried with the brightest smile of a new bride.
“But Thea!” She wanted to grip her by her shoulders. “I’m not sweet and lovey-dovey like you are. I get inspired by watching Carrie while sharpening my cleaver, not by going gaga over a guy.”
“Kyle isn’t just any guy, and we both know it.” She picked up the recipe card Madison had dropped on the counter and pointed to a line. “That’s why I put Belief on the card.”
She goggled. Kyle had asked her to believe. What was this? Some Belief conspiracy?
“I had to find self-confidence. You need to find your belief. In him and yourself. Maybe even in love. Because Madison, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You love each other. And I want you to be happy. So here’s my contribution to Operation Madison.”
“What?” She nearly fell out of her chair. “Who said there was an operation? That’s not—”
“Kyle called us together this morning for help—”
“He did not—” she shot out, planting both hands on the countertop.
“He so did, which is why I swung by before I left again.” She rose and hugged her. “You think about your recipe while I’m gone. We can talk when I get back.”
Madison gave a shaky laugh. “Sure, we’ll have brunch. Shoot the breeze about how insane my life has become.”
Thea only laughed. “Feel free to bring your cleaver. Dean is worried you’re going to hack him to death for participating in Operation Madison.”
“I always knew he was a smart guy,” she joked, but she felt sick to her stomach.
She’d never hurt her friends, but knowing they were working with Kyle to get her to be with him made her feel all squirrely inside. Like they were Kyle’s new Gang of Romance and Dating or something, ready to climb the walls she’d created, the ones she’d counted on for so long to protect her.
Thea clutched her purse. “You should know something before I go. I’ve never admired anyone as much for their bravery as I do you. I believe in you.”
Her mouth was suddenly filled with cotton balls. Brave? Oh, Thea. “You’ve gotten more devious since your return to Paris.”
“Thank you.” She gave a playful wink. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Right. Now, off with you. Do you want me to grab some rice and throw it at you again? Hum the wedding march?”
Her friend’s girlish laughter was downright infectious. “You’d do it if I asked, which is why I know you’re a softie when it comes to the important things.”
“Shut your mouth.” She winced. “Sorry, that was too harsh. But you know—”
“I do.” Another happy smile flitted over her face as she grabbed her purse. “I happen to like this side of my friend, even if it’s really weird to her. That’s how I used to feel about fashion and shoes, and look at me now.”
When she cut a confident catwalk pose, Madison remembered meeting her all those years ago.
Thea had come to Paris at twenty, equipped with very little high school French and dressed in some purple outfit with a Peter Pan collar.
Back then, she’d had two speeds: smiling and crying.
But the woman who stood before Madison now was stylish and confident. “Love looks good on you, Thea.”
“You too, Madison.”
Drop the mic, Thea.
Madison’s mouth hung open as little sister walked out of the kitchen. Love looked good on her? She needed to scrub it off.
She eyed the recipe card like it had cooties. Pierre walked over and somehow got the recipe in his beak. He trotted back, bobbing his head with the card.
“You’re not a secret agent in Operation Madison, are you?” She grabbed the card and glared at it. “Now all I can see is Belief flashing out in great big Vegas strip letters. Like you can download that baby in the app store or buy it online.”
Kyle had asked her to believe. She didn’t want to let him down. This whole recipe life card business so wasn’t her. But she had to deal with it, didn’t she? Kyle had started Operation Madison. With their friends.
Waging a silent campaign for her heart was so like Kyle.
He’d tried to put her in checkmate. Sure, she wasn’t a chess player, but she’d loved going to Domino Park in Little Havana to watch the card sharks and the chess hustlers smoke their Cuban cigars while drinking a cafecito.
God, she loved Paris coffee, but in this moment, she would have killed for a Cuban coffee in a little paper cup with the ocean breeze ruffling her hair.
So what was her strategy here?
She wanted to smack him.
She wanted to kiss him.
She wanted to beg him to find some magical Belief potion for her to swallow.
Thea had called her brave. Riiiight…
When it came to risking her life walking down a dangerous Miami street, sure. She had to get home, didn’t she? Her heart was another matter. It remembered how much pain was out there waiting if you tripped up.
But she’d also learned when you had to weigh the odds and go for what you wanted. She wouldn’t have gotten as far as she had in the culinary world if she weren’t willing to occasionally throw the dice.
Kyle was giving her a chance to set her conditions. Her rules. Maybe it was time to stop running away. If she kept ignoring him, and what they both wanted, he might lose all respect for her.
Shit. She might lose all respect for herself.
She had to stop those self-destructive tendencies or she’d lose what she wanted and the people she loved.
“God, Pierre, I’ve been acting like a chicken.”
Pathetic.
“Une poule?” Pierre asked with one of his scary laughs. “Non, Chef Madison.”
She wished she could take the word of a parrot, but she knew the truth. Picking up the recipe again, she studied it. When she reread the part about her food being even better because of love, she got excited.
What if her cooking got even better than it was now?
The Michelin announcement was ten weeks away, in mid-March. Assuming the Michelin gods hadn’t already come to her restaurant, they would be showing up soon. She wanted that star…
Was Thea right? Would allowing her full feelings for Kyle put her into some crazy new creative space? That possibility made her more inclined to take the risk and see what came of it.
Grabbing the recipe, she read it again. A delicious partnership?
Yuck. Again, that was so not her. Flavor wise, she’d have to go with Spicy.
Madison’s Spicy New Reality, because she’d have to be living in a totally different dimension to make this work.
She grabbed a nearby pen and made the change and kept reading.
Where was her goal of winning her Michelin star?
Another item was missing: instructions.
How like a baker it was to leave those out or make them vague. They were always so vague, like, you might need to add more flour and knead it until it feels like a woman’s breast (totally sexist but true) or an earlobe (also true but totally gross).
So what were her instructions? What was her move with Kyle? Because she had to admit his campaign was already working. She was starting to want to believe, and wasn’t that the first step?
She sat down and got to work.