Chapter 18
Freya
Julian: Here’s the address. We’ll meet there at two.
Archer and Julian left an hour ago, and I’m fresh out of the shower, scrolling through pictures of the empty restaurant on the website. My hair is wet, drying slowly in loose wavy curls.
Biting my lip, I try to imagine myself in this empty restaurant. It’s small, but small is good for my first restaurant. There’s a red awning over the front door and space on the sidewalk out front for patio seating. There are large windows that open to bring in fresh air in the spring and summer.
Looking at the price tag, I feel sick. And that’s just the building lease. What about the furniture, staff, supplies, food? Am I asking for too much? What if I screw it up and they realize I’m a fraud? Just a girl who likes to cook.
The Kades’ anniversary party is in six weeks, and I still have so much to do for that. I can’t get sidetracked by this new venture and my new love interests and derail my dreams. I have to stay focused.
While I’m towel drying my hair, my phone rings, and I look down to see my mother’s face on the screen. Hitting the green button, I put it on speaker as I answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, beti,” she replies. “I’m just calling to check in. I haven’t heard from you in two days.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I reply before tossing the towel over the bathtub. “It’s just been busy.”
“Are you ready for that catering job?” she asks. “Did you buy a planner like I suggested? You need something to help you stay organized.”
“I did,” I say obediently. “And guess what? I’m even using it.”
She chuckles on the other end of the line. “That’s my girl. Don’t worry, Freya. You can do this. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Maa.” Tears prick my eyes, and I bounce my knee as I fight off the relentless homesickness that creeps in when I hear her voice.
She picks up on it immediately, although she can’t see me. “Everything okay?”
“I just miss you guys, that’s all.”
“We miss you too, meri jaan. And you know you can come home anytime, but I hope you know how proud we are of you. You’re doing it, Freya. You’re chasing your dreams.”
I haven’t told my mother about the restaurant venture yet. And I definitely haven’t told her how I’m dating two guys.
My mother is progressive but not that progressive.
And my grandmother? That news would put her in an early grave.
Every time I even talk to her on the phone, she asks about any marriage prospects and when I’ll get a real job.
If I ever have to tell her that I found not only one potential husband but two, she may never speak to me again.
I love her to death, but she and I grew up in very different worlds, and she may never truly understand me and my life choices.
“Have you had any more job interviews?” my mother asks with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Actually, I have…” I lie.
“Oh really. Where at?”
“Um…running my own place, actually.”
The line is quiet for a moment. “What do you mean your own place? In Paris?” Her voice takes on a screechy tone, and I wince at the excitement in it. Letting my parents down is my biggest fear so I’m constantly balancing between telling them everything and telling them nothing.
If I tell my mother nothing about my prospects, then she won’t be disappointed when I fail. But if I don’t tell her anything, she’ll be disappointed because she’ll think I have no prospects. It’s a vicious cycle.
“Wait, Freya. Tell me everything!”
“Well…it’s sort of the Kades again, really. Julian, their son…he wants to invest.”
“He must see your talent.”
He’s seen a lot more than my talent.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumble, chewing on my lower lip.
“That is so exciting, my brave girl. I’m so proud of you. You know…” She pauses a moment, and I know that means my mother is about to get candid with me, and I brace myself.
My mom is a brilliant woman. A college professor of mythology, she’s always flourished in the world of intellect and skepticism. This means that there’s no question she won’t ask. No topic she won’t approach. No conversation she won’t have.
“When you moved out to Paris, I was so scared to lose you. I knew you’d do amazing things. And it’s incredible what the Kades are doing for you, but, Freya, don’t you forget…you earned this. You are doing this for yourself.”
My throat grows tight as the encouragement seeps into my bones. Praise is hard to swallow, like thick pills that just won’t go down.
Because what if she’s wrong? What if her faith in me is misplaced?
She’s speaking as my mother. What if it’s all coming from bias?
Not wanting to burden her with any more of that pressure, I cut her off. “Actually, the meeting with the real estate agent is in an hour, so I really have to go. I just got out of the shower.”
“Oh, Freya. An hour? You really need to manage your time better.”
“I know, I know. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
When the phone line goes dead, I stare at my reflection, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Mostly…what the hell am I doing?
Julian and Archer and I are just having fun. It’s dating, but it won’t really go anywhere. It’s not like I can keep them both forever.
That nagging voice inside is trying to persuade me to cancel all this and go back to my normal, boring life where I work too hard for too little in other people’s dream restaurants.
But then I hear my mother’s voice. You’re chasing your dreams, Freya.
And I am chasing my dreams, aren’t I? Not just with the restaurant but with love too. Being in a relationship like this one where I feel so seen and treasured was also my dream. Wasn’t it?
Am I a fool for thinking I could have both?
I’m making my way down rue Oberkampf, five minutes late, naturally. The winter wind turns my cheeks red and bites at my nose as I pull my coat and scarf tighter around me. I’ve been anxious all morning, feeling nauseous in a way I have never felt before.
In the distance, I spot Julian and Archer standing out front with a woman dressed professionally in a white flowy blouse, a long peacoat, wide-leg slacks, and heels. As I approach in my corduroy pants and chunky boots, I feel instantly inadequate for this venture.
Archer sees me first, his face lighting up at the sight of me walking toward them.
“Chef,” he says, and I find myself gravitating toward him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I give him a quick kiss. His body is warm and his touch intimate.
It’s mid-kiss with Archer that I realize I can’t kiss both of them. I can feel the woman watching us with a smile, and I start to panic as Archer releases me. So when Julian puts out a less direct hand for me, I only give him a friendly hug.
I’m filled with instant regret.
As I pull away, I see the moment of consternation on his face. I’ve offended him by kissing Archer and not him. The guilt settles in my bones like rain soaking concrete.
“Freya, this is my agent, Delia Simons,” Julian says in a flat tone.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, reaching a hand out to shake hers.
She replies with enthusiasm before giving us a basic rundown of the property.
My mind is racing too much to really soak in the details she’s providing.
Then she unlocks the front door, and it all comes flooding in.
For some reason, I feel on the verge of tears.
Julian is smart and asks all the appropriate questions while Archer stays by my side like a loyal boyfriend.
Delia talks incessantly, which I understand is her job, but I’m feeling overwhelmed. Standing in the middle of an empty, abandoned restaurant, I can’t see how this place is supposed to be mine.
I retreat to the back of the restaurant in need of a quiet space and room to breathe. When I glance upward, my eyes meet Julian’s, and there’s a moment of recognition in them.
“Delia,” he says with authority. “Would you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll be right out front to answer any of your questions.” She pastes a polite, tight-lipped smile on her face and walks out the front door of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, but the moment my voice escapes my lips, it cracks on my tears.
“Why are you sorry?” Julian asks without an ounce of expression on his face.
“Because I didn’t kiss you but I kissed Archer.”
At the sound of his name, Archer appears behind Julian. Neither of them says a word as I continue.
“And this all feels so overwhelming and surreal and like I don’t deserve it.
And I just hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me how hard I worked for this and how talented I am, but every ounce of confidence I exude feels fake.
I have to force it. It’s not real. I don’t feel like the person who owns a restaurant. I’m not there yet.”
A tear slips over my cheek, and I wipe it away, feeling ridiculous for unloading so much on them after looking at just one property.
I keep waiting for Archer to say something comforting or try to make me laugh. Instead, I’m shocked that it’s Julian who steps forward and speaks up.
“Confidence is fake, Freya.”
I turn to face him, narrowing my eyes. “What?”
“Confidence isn’t real. It’s not bestowed upon the people who earn it. You have to just…act it out.”
A laugh slips through my lips as I wipe another tear away. “That’s easy for you to say, Julian. You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met.”
He takes another step forward, putting his beautiful face near mine as he kisses my wet cheek.
“I’m not. I’m telling you…it’s fake. I am insecure all the time.
Why do you think I can only fuck strangers?
Because I’m afraid if anyone sees the real me, they’ll be disappointed.
So I put on all this,” he says, gesturing from his hair to his shoes, “to trick people into thinking I’m better than everyone else. ”
My lips part as I stare into his bright blue eyes. Then I lift a hand, running my fingers through his perfect hair to mess it up. “I see the real you, Julian Kade. And I’m not disappointed. Not at all.”
Leaning forward, he whispers, “And you are the kind of person who owns a restaurant.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I squeeze him tight. There is so much more comfort in Julian’s embrace than I expected. His hugs are warm. They make me feel like I’m not so alone. It’s like he sees right into my soul.
As we pull apart, I sniffle, wiping away the residual tears on my face. “Thank you. I don’t know what came over me.”
Archer steps into the storage room, placing a large hand on my shoulder. “This is a big deal, Chef. It’s natural to be overwhelmed. Take your time.”
“Thanks,” I reply with a smile. “And I’m sorry for not kissing you outside,” I add to Julian. “It was just so—”
“I was jealous,” he adds, surprising me with the sudden vulnerability. “But I understand how new this is. It’s new for all of us.”
“You were jealous?” I ask, fighting a grin as it tugs on my cheeks.
“Of course I was,” he replies with a divot between his brows. “I don’t like feeling like the third wheel.”
In moments like this, it all feels so surreal.
A relationship with three people isn’t what society is accustomed to, but that doesn’t make it wrong.
My heart knows that it’s all of us or nothing, but my head keeps reminding me of how hard this could be for us.
Telling our families. Our friends. Society.
Archer being Archer, he smothers Julian’s discomfort, sandwiching him between us as he kisses his cheek. “You’re not the third wheel.”
Julian fakes a smile, but beneath it, I worry that there’s still so much apprehension. I worry that he thinks he could be removed from this relationship and Archer and I could be together without him.
Could we?
My heart hates that idea.
My mind wonders if it wouldn’t make everything a little easier.