30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Carrington
I haven’t slept in days, and my stomach is in knots as I push the door open. As soon as the air conditioning hits my face, and the familiar sounds of a busy restaurant envelop me, I raise my eyes and immediately connect with hazelnut brown ones across the large space. The warm eyes make me feel like I’m home. The angry face they’re attached to tells me I have my work cut out for me. I take in a large breath and let it out slowly, not even trying to fight the smile spreading across my face.
I feel like it’s been years instead of just under a month since I left. I also feel like I’ve been through war just in the last week with the meetings and constant phone calls, all of which amounted to me making the decision to say fuck it all and hop on a plane to be here.
I couldn’t stay away any longer. Leaving Carina Cove without an executive chef is a shitty thing to do, but I promised Seth I’d continue to interview candidates remotely. Thankfully, the investors didn’t pull out of the deal when we told them about Dan. They’re giving us six weeks to find a replacement. I have called in every favor I can think of, and I’m hoping we’ll find someone soon.
I should have been back last Sunday, and I’ve been MIA for even longer, so Thea has every right to be angry with me. But right now, I can’t find it in me to care. I cross the room in a few long strides, and before I get within spitting distance, I see she’s gearing up for a fight.
“Don’t, Lemon,” I cut her off before she gets started. “I’m so tired. But I’m here. I know you’re pissed. And go ahead and be mad—just… just do it tomorrow.” I step closer to her and hesitantly wrap her in my arms as though she’s a wild animal that may lash out, taking the hug I desperately need. “Fuck, this is nice.” I pull her in closer and shut my eyes, getting lost in her citrus smell.
I don’t know how much time passes, but her arms eventually wrap around me too. I can finally breathe when she presses closer.
“Cary,” she speaks quietly right into my ear. “I’m… I’m about to start an interview.”
I pull away and suddenly notice the woman standing next to us looking rather uncomfortable.
“Interview?” I ask.
Thea runs a hand through her hair and nods. “Yes, for the head chef position. Can we talk about this after?” Her widened eyes tell me I’m intruding.
“Wait, what about Travis?”
“Travis has given his notice, so we’re looking to fill the position,” she says in a professional tone. She gives the mousy-looking woman a reassuring smile, clearly trying to apologize for my behavior.
I turn to the woman and say, “I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m Cary Grant, one of the owners here. Could you please give us a few minutes?” Thea releases a frustrated huff, but before she can say anything, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her with me, making my way to the back office.
“Cary, I don’t have time for this… whatever this is. I can’t have Rachel leave, she’s actually qualified,” Thea says as soon as we’re behind the office door.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Cary.” My name on her lips comes off frustrated, entirely wrong.
“Thea, just… please tell me what’s happening.”
“Travis put in his notice last week. He’s having issues with his ex-wife and needs to move. He didn’t give an exact end date, but I know he wants to get Melody away from here as soon as possible.” She looks so defeated. “Please, let me get back to Rachel. She’s the first half-decent candidate I’ve managed to agree to interview. We can’t afford for her to leave.”
“Where is Travis going?”
“I don’t think he has that figured out yet. As far away from here as possible, I’m sure.”
There’s a long pause between us as I take it all in, and she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Granted, I am smiling wide at what should be horrible news, so I don’t blame her for thinking I’ve lost it.
“Okay, I don’t understand what’s going on here, but I don’t have ti—” Thea starts to push past me to the door before I cut her off.
“Here,” I say as I hand her a large envelope. After a beat, I hold out my other hand as well, pushing the bouquet of peonies I’ve been holding toward her. “These are also for you.” Thea looks between the envelope, flowers, and my face, clearly puzzled. She slowly reaches out and takes both, bringing the flowers to her face quickly, taking in their aroma, her eyes fluttering shut at the scent, and a miniscule smile ticks at her lips. When she opens her eyes, her face hardens again in annoyance.
“Okay, yeah,” I say, rubbing my hand over my scruff. “I’d like to interview.”
Her milk chocolate gaze snaps to me, questioning.
“I want to interview for the head chef position,” I clarify.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Thea huffs out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, Cary. I really can’t deal with this right now. Please, just let me get back to my meeting.”
“No, listen. I want to work here. I want to be considered. I’m sure I have the experience you’re looking for.” When her expression doesn’t change, I continue, “I’m sorry, I’m running on no sleep. Please open the envelope. It’ll make more sense then.”
Thea narrows her eyes at me and after a few moments shoves the flowers at me, freeing her hand to open the envelope and pull the contents out.
“What is this?” she asks as her eyes slide over the papers.
“It’s all yours. RED, the land, all of it,” I say. “You just have to sign at the tabs.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“This,” I say pointing at the papers, “is RED. I told you before: RED is you. You are RED. And it’s perfect the way it is. You don’t need me to run it. I had Elsher put everything in your name. You just have to sign.”
I watch her face. At first, all I see is confusion. But it slowly morphs into disbelief and cycles through a dozen other emotions I can’t quite decipher. She ends on anger.
Not exactly what I was aiming for.
“Are you—so you’re just going to wash your hands clean of this place? Go back to Seattle? That’s your plan?” It hits me then that this isn’t simply anger, she’s furious. “This was your big plan? Drop off the face of the Earth for almost a week and then just sign everything over and go back? Cut all ties? I should have known. It’s wha—” I gently put my hand to her mouth, cutting off her rant.
“Let me stop you right there,” I say calmly. “RED doesn’t belong to me, or at least it shouldn’t. You deserve this place. You deserve to run it, own it… grow it.” I pause and watch her, still skeptical of me. “But I want to be here to see what you do with it. If you’ll let me. Once you sign those papers, I have nothing tying me here to Indigo Hill. Nothing but you . And I choose you, Thea. I don’t want to be where you aren’t.”
“But what about Seattle? What about your restaurant? Opening your own was your dream come true…” she says, eyes tearing up.
“No. You, Thea. You’re my dream come true. Not some restaurant in Seattle. Not a diner here in South Carolina. You’re it. And as for my apartment, I put it on the market, and I’m a silent, minority partner in the restaurant. Seth has more of a voice in what happens there than I do now.” I step closer to her, taking her face in my hands. Using my thumb, I brush the tears that have escaped onto her left cheek. “So, Lemon, for all intents and purposes, I’m unemployed. Can I please interview for the chef position?”
And before she can protest, I add, “I also think there might be a great opportunity for Travis in Seattle, if he wants it.”
“Thank you so much for coming in,” Thea says as she and Rachel stroll past me to the front door of RED. The restaurant is mostly empty now, just a few tables filled with the late lunch stragglers. It won’t pick up again for a few hours when dinner service starts.
Nat refills my water glass as I follow Thea’s movements across the restaurant with my eyes. They stop by the door and continue to chat, Thea smiling and nodding at something the other woman said. Despite offering myself for the position, Thea insisted on taking the interview with Rachel. They had been holed up in the office for over an hour.
When she first brought Rachel to the back, I assumed it was perfunctory, out of obligation, since she took the time to come out here. I took an empty seat at the bar to wait for her. After about fifteen minutes, the door to the office remained closed. After thirty, sweat started to prickle the back of my neck. Intrusive thoughts telling me maybe she didn’t want me here at all started up in full force.
At the forty-five minute mark, Nat dropped a Mediterranean salad topped with salmon in front of me. “Eat,” was all she said before stepping away to make drinks for other patrons. I savored the sweet tomatoes and tangy artichoke, imagining how the dish could be elevated with a simple dill vinaigrette.
With my stomach full from lunch, and my mind full of doubt, overwhelming exhaustion hit me like a train. I was in the middle of a yawn when the office door finally opened.
With a wave goodbye, Thea turns and heads straight for me. Her eyes take in my face, and she must see the fatigue in my features because with a quick, “Let’s go,” and a grab of my hand, she’s pulling me off my stool and out the door. We’re at her house in about fifteen minutes. She’d filled the car ride with music, silently telling me talking was off the table for now.
“You go take a nap, I’m going to read through these,” she says, lifting up the envelope I gave her earlier, after we walk inside. “Then, we’ll talk.”
“Thea—”
“Cary, go. Now.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, so I make my way down the hall to the bedrooms. I pause before opening the door on the right. She might have meant for me to use the guest room, but I opt for her bedroom instead.
Undressing to my briefs, I slide under the comforter. I’m swathed in a sense of calm, surrounded by her mouthwatering scent that clings to the pillows. I replay the one night we spent here together before a deep, dreamless sleep takes me.
It’s dark when I wake, and I don’t immediately recognize where I am. I do recognize Thea’s lemony, floral scent all around me, so I’m instantly put at ease. I check my phone and see it’s just a few minutes after eight. Rubbing the sleep from my face, I stand and find my clothes. As I open the door of the bedroom, I hear music playing softly somewhere in the house.
Thea’s in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket on her lap, a mug of tea in one hand, resting on her knee, and her phone in the other. She’s wearing a threadbare t-shirt multiple sizes too big for her, the neck hole so big it hangs over one shoulder. The envelope and papers are spread out on the coffee table in front of her next to a portable speaker and a vase holding the peonies I brought her. She’s lit a fire in the fireplace, and besides the soft harmonies of John Mayer’s “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room,” the crackling is the only other sound in the house.
Her head tilts up from her phone when she senses me watching her. She looks me up and down, her gaze landing on my face. I hold my breath, waiting to see what type of reception I’m walking into. I know there’s a lot we have to talk about, but I’m aching for a smile from her. Her face is mostly in shadow, the fire providing the only light in the room, but I can see the side of her mouth tick up.
“Your hair is doing all sorts of things.” Her tone is warm and quiet, like the flames from across the room. It unwinds something inside me, and I smile at her.
I run my hand through the strands trying to tame the bedhead but give up as I sit on the couch, leaving a cushion between us.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“It’s fine, you seemed like you needed it. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thanks,” I say. Why does this feel so stilted? There are so many things we need to discuss, but the words just won’t come. We sit in silence for a while. The flames flicker, the logs spark.
“I take it you looked over the papers?” I finally say.
“Yes,” Thea replies and then with a sigh adds, “But I can’t sign them. Your parents left RED to you. They want it to stay in the family.”
“You are my family, Thea,” I say with no hesitation. Her eyes snap to my face, and her brows draw in.
“Cary, that’s not what they mean—”
“And I can promise one day there will be a ring on your finger making it official,” I cut her off.
“You are getting way ahead of yourself,” she huffs out as the hand not holding her mug covers the other, and she starts fiddling with her rings.
“Thea, I’m jobless. I have nothing but time. And if you think I’m going to waste a second of it not trying to win you back, you’re in for a big surprise. I was serious when I said I choose you. I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you walk away from me. I will not do that again. I. Choose. You. And I will continue to choose you everyday. So, please, sign the damn papers.”
“I don’t think I can do this alone,” she whispers.
“Baby, you won’t be doing this alone. Ever.” I lean in close and clasp one of her hands in mine. “Can’t say I’ll be much help, though.” I chuckle. “The last few weeks have taught me I’m hopeless with the operational side of running a restaurant. Seth’s the only reason Carina Cove exists. I didn’t realize how much he did until I had to meet with investors, and I felt like I had no idea what I was talking about. I’m a chef. That’s what I’m good at. That’s all I want to do anyway.”
“Are you sure this is what you want? What about Brooks? I haven’t seen him in over a week now. Do you think he wants a say in what happens at RED?”
“This is exactly what I want. I want to cook, and I want to come home to you every night.” I kiss the knuckles on the hand of hers I’m holding. “As for Brooks, I think my parents made the right decision not tying him to RED. He needs to figure out what he wants from his life, and I can assure you, it won’t be the restaurant.”
We fall into silence again. A new song starts playing from the speaker, something mournful by Zach Bryan. Thea pulls her hand from my hold and leans over to put her mug on the coffee table. When she sits back, her hands land in her lap, and she twists a ring I remember giving her when we were seventeen. The gold band and tiny lemon wedge catch the light from the fireplace.
I can’t see it from where I’m sitting, but I know the ring has the tiniest diamond embedded in the design. I saved for a year to get that ring. It was a promise from a lovesick teenage boy to the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. A promise of a future I still plan to give her.
“I’m sorry,” her whisper is barely loud enough to be heard over the faint music.
I’m sorry?
My heart clenches. I knew there was a chance she didn’t want the same thing as I do, but I didn’t think she had completely closed the door on this—us.
She must see my emotions on my face because she quickly says, “Oh, no. That’s not—I mean I’m sorry for how I handled everything eight years ago. I was… overwhelmed. I was heartbroken about my mom’s diagnosis, and I felt so cornered. I felt like I couldn’t leave her alone, and I really couldn’t go back to Seattle. That last year had broken something in me, and I knew I had been slowly breaking us. It seemed like it would be easiest if I just didn’t go back. But I should have fought for us. Fought for you.”
“Thea, I—I’m so desperately in love with you. I don’t think I ever really stopped, if I’m being honest. You’ve had my heart since we were kids, and I don’t want it back. I never have. It’s made a home with you.”
Her eyes well as she says, “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you either. I love you so fucking much.”