Chapter Nineteen
To my amazing retreat attendees,
By now, I trust you are all home and back to somewhat regularly scheduled programming. I am so glad you all chose to attend my retreat, and I hope you learned something, took something away, and feel it was time well spent.
I have a few things to say…and a few things to confess.
First of all, each of you has my undying gratitude for attending. I’ve been in this business for a very, very long time, and to know there are other chefs out there who still look up to me and feel they can learn from me is a boost I need every now and again. So I thank you.
Second, I believe that baking under pressure is a skill that not enough bakers and pastry chefs excel at, so it’s one of the things I try to push at my retreat. But I don’t always tell my chefs. I just…fiddle with the circumstances. And I use the assistant chefs to help. I did that with most of you at some point or another, and you excelled. In fact, yours was the most levelheaded group I’ve had in years, so bravo! And now this is where I come clean.
Vienna, I was extra hard on you because as a woman of color in a male-dominated industry, you face even more obstacles than most. You handled everything I threw at you with grace, and you never lost your cool in the kitchen. Impressive. Very, very impressive.
Maia, I had your assistant chef take your lucky bandannas and then return them a week later. I know you were stressed, but you baked just as well, if not better, without what you consider your lucky talisman! You relied on your skills, not luck, and you succeeded, despite the stress you felt. Well done.
Paige, your assistant chef let me know that pie crust was your weak link in baking, and that’s why I had you making pie so often. But you got it! By the end of the retreat, your crust could seriously rival mine. So, see? The pressure of it paid off.
Madison, you were such a delight, so kind, cheerful, and encouraging to your fellow chefs that I couldn’t bear to mess with you (not that I didn’t think about it!). Please don’t ever change.
Regan and Ava, I owe you two the biggest kudos. In all the years I’ve run this retreat, I’ve never had two attendees fall for each other. That was a first! The pressure of keeping that separate from what we were doing and learning must’ve been a lot, and I apologize for abusing my power and outing you to the others. That was petty of me, but I can get a bit carried away in a retreat. May tells me all the time that I play mind games, and maybe she’s right. I certainly did when I had Becca steal Regan’s July Fourth idea and pass it off as her own so Ava would make the same thing. I wanted to see the sparks fly, see how you each handled such a thing. I honestly didn’t think it would drive a wedge between you as large as the one it did, though. I guess that means what you had was, sadly, just a temporary fling. But still, I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in. I apologize for that. (And not that you asked, but I thought you two were great together.)
All right. Now for the reason I sent this letter in the first place: the money. My financial advisor says I can do this, even though my CPA is losing his mind, but I don’t care. What good is having money if you can’t spend it the way you want? Therefore, I am increasing my total donation (that’s what I’ve been told we’re to call it) to $200,000, and I’m giving some to all of you. Vienna, Madison, Paige, and Maia, you will each receive $25,000. Thank you for your participation, dedication, and success. Regan and Ava, I really messed with your heads, and I feel guilty about that, so I’m giving each of you $50,000. Again, I apologize. You really were great together.
Checks will arrive in the next week under separate cover.
Again, thank you all for participating.
Love and baked goods,
Liza Bennett-Schmidt
PS: Please remember that you each signed a nondisclosure agreement, so don’t go sharing these details…
Regan blinked at the paper in her hand. She was seated on her couch in the living room, Artie stretched across the back of it, one paw on her shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she stayed there. She blinked some more. Read it again. And again. Each time she finished, she’d whisper “Holy shit” and read it again. The paper trembled in her hand.
Her phone started to ping, and it continued to do so until she picked it up to see texts from the other retreat attendees, various versions of their own “Holy shit.” Liza must’ve mailed the letters so they all arrived on the same day. She remembered Paige and Madison were on the West Coast, so she wasn’t sure they’d be texting, but Vienna and Maia were.
What the actual fuck? were Vienna’s first words. Followed quickly by I’ma make a group text. And then all their texts started to show up in the same place.
I don’t understand. Maia. We all get money?
Seems that way , Regan typed. It also seems like whoever said Liza was a sadist was right.
Ava did , typed Vienna.
It was definitely Ava , said a text from Madison. Hi, guys! I miss you all!
Along came Paige. Yup. Ava. Also, OMG, what the heck?
Regan grinned at her tame language, especially compared to the rest of them.
I said she was a sadist. A text from Ava, finally.
Regan’s heart skipped a beat when she saw her name pop up. She actually felt it in her chest.
Looks like you were right , typed Paige. Who does that? Seriously, what kind of person does that?
Someone miserable in their own life? That was Maia. So they have to fuck around in other people’s?
Makes sense , Regan typed. But Jesus. She sat there, phone in hand, shaking her head in disbelief.
Well, we got some confirmation. That was Vienna.
Meaning? Maia.
That we weren’t all crazy! Vienna began. She definitely zeroed in on me. We know your bandannas were taken, Maia, and you didn’t lose them. We know Regan didn’t steal Ava’s idea.
Told you. Regan couldn’t resist typing that.
And we know that Becca is the one who did steal Regan’s idea.
Told you. That was Ava, and Regan grimaced as she read the words. Because, shit. She owed Ava a serious apology. She opened a private text between the two of them as the group text continued to ping with messages. Her thumbs hovered over the buttons, then she started to type. Stopped. Started again. Stopped.
“Shit.”
Everything she typed seemed trite. Lame. Not good enough.
With a sigh, she clicked back to the group.
If I didn’t need the money, I’d tell her to take her check and shove it up her narcissistic ass. That was Maia, and it made Regan grin as she remembered her funky hair and no-nonsense attitude.
Paige commented, At least now we know why we had to sign NDAs. She doesn’t want future attendees knowing how much she likes mind games.
I think the best revenge , Ava typed, is to take the checks and do something good with them.
I agree , Regan typed. I know we all had plans for it and we’re getting less than we thought, but we’re all getting some, which is pretty cool. Use it well.
Good plan , typed Vienna . I said it before, but it bears repeating: Never meet your heroes. Jesus Christ.
* * *
August had come in hot.
Like, really hot. Fry an egg on the pavement hot. Surface of the sun hot. And it didn’t really matter how hard Pomp’s air-conditioning unit was working, there were still ovens running and burners lit in the kitchen, and not even two hours into her shift, Ava was sweating like a menopausal woman in a sauna.
Not her favorite conditions to work in, and added to Goldie and her “I hate the world and everyone in it especially my employees” attitude that day, the idea of quitting—simply taking off her chef’s coat, handing it to Goldie, and telling her to stick it where the sun don’t shine—was almost too tempting. After all, she now had fifty thousand dollars sitting in her bank account. She didn’t have to stay there if she didn’t want to. Not really.
The corners of her mouth tugged upward, as they always seemed to do when she thought about her bank balance. How could they not? There was a cushion now, and she’d never had a cushion before. Totally new to her. Her mother texted her every morning to ask how her fifty thousand grandchildren were doing, and it cracked Ava up every time. Maybe money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could certainly buy relief.
Shoving aside that whispering desire to leave her job, she put her head down and focused on the cranberry orange scones she was making for the brunch special the next day and did her best not to sweat on them.
Fridays were always hella busy, and by the time she wiped down her counter and put the last of her equipment away at the end of her shift, she felt like a wet dishrag, limp and wrung out. She finished up, bid her good nights to the few crew members left, and pushed her way through the back door and into the hot August night.
Then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Hi.” Regan leaned against the wall of the building directly across from the door, arms folded over her chest, feet crossed at the ankle, looking as beautiful and sexy as she ever had in worn jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Ava had to make a conscious effort to catch her breath and then to remember that she was still mad at Regan.
And stung by her.
And missed her terribly.
She inhaled to steady herself. “Hey.”
Regan pushed off the wall. “You look nice.”
Ava glanced down at her own work clothes, the flour that dusted her pants, felt the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail and snorted. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m sweaty and dirty and exhausted.”
“I mean it,” Regan said. “A sight for sore eyes, isn’t that what they say?”
Ava tipped her head. “And are your eyes sore?”
“From not seeing you. Yeah. They are.” There was a beat, two, and then they both burst into laughter. “Oh God, that was so cheesy.”
“The cheesiest line anybody’s ever used on me, hands down.”
They continued to laugh for a moment, and when it died down, Regan met her gaze. God, those blue eyes of hers. Ava had forgotten how much she loved them.
“I owe you an apology,” Regan said softly. “A big one.”
Ava pressed her lips together to hide her surprise, not sure if she was successful. She let Regan talk.
“I am so sorry.” Regan glanced down at her feet, then off into the distance. “I should have believed you. Or at least given you the benefit of the doubt. I let the past color the present for me, even after you swore you knew what had happened. I should have listened to you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t.” She searched for Ava’s eyes, then held her gaze and swallowed hard enough for Ava to hear it.
Ava glanced off to her left. “It’s a bummer that it took Liza telling you what I already had to get you to believe me.” That hurt. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t.
“I know.” Regan nodded and, if Ava was being honest, looked miserable. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”
“After everything we’d gone through…” Ava looked off down the alley and shook her head. “I mean, I know my track record isn’t spotless, but,” she refocused her gaze on Regan, “after all we’d gone through.”
“I know,” Regan said, nodding. She glanced down at her shoes and said it again. “I know.” Another beat went by, both of them silent, Ava absorbing and Regan likely waiting her out before giving in and asking, “What can I do? Is there anything I can do to fix it? Just tell me. I’ll do it.” She cleared her throat, and Ava wondered if she was on the verge of tears. “Anything. I’ll do it. I miss you so much.”
There were so many things Ava wanted to say in that moment. She wanted to shout. She wanted to show Regan her anger and her hurt and her disappointment. She wanted to shove her in the shoulder and ask her what the fuck she’d been thinking, how she could think—after all the time and all the kissing and all the sex—that she’d actually steal her idea, that she’d do something like that to her. She wanted to scream and cry and rage.
“Take me to dinner.” That’s what she said instead, and she blinked once, twice, actually surprised by her own words.
Regan flinched in surprise as well, her eyes going wide. “Really? Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Regan nodded. A lot. “Okay. I can do that. I’d love to do that. I’d be happy to do that. Dinner. Yes.”
“Good.” Ava blew out an unexpected breath of relief. “Good. Now walk me to the subway, and then text me tomorrow with a day and time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Regan was trying hard to hide her smile. Ava could tell. But she did a commendable job as they fell into step together. And as thrilled Ava was that Regan had taken steps and shown up unannounced, she wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily.
They walked in silence.
It was called “the city that never sleeps” for a reason, and there were still quite a lot of people out on the streets. Driving, walking, shouting, honking horns. Definitely fewer than during the day, but it wasn’t like they were walking along in their own little quiet world. Even if it felt like it.
Their hands brushed once as they walked, and it took a lot of effort for Ava to resist grabbing Regan’s, feeling the warmth of it, entwining their fingers. Her brain chose that moment to toss her an image, a memory of those same fingers inside her, sliding slowly in and out, then picking up speed.
She cleared her throat.
“It’s good to see your face again,” Regan said quietly. She still sported the ghost of a smile as she glanced up at Ava. They’d reached the stairs down into the subway.
Ava smiled back at her, then turned to head down the stairs. “Text me.” She tossed the words over her shoulder, not looking back.
“I will.” Regan’s voice was enthusiastic. Happy. And when Ava, against her better judgment, did turn and glance back up from the bottom of the steps, Regan was smiling like she’d just won the lottery.
* * *
“Honey, what are you doing?” Ava’s mom’s voice was gentle, almost tender, and a hint of worry tinted the edges of it.
“What do you mean?” It was Monday morning, Ava’s day off. She had her phone propped up on the counter as she gave her tiny kitchen its weekly wipe-down, even though she’d hardly used it, as she hadn’t really felt much like cooking since she’d returned from the retreat. Or eating, for that matter.
When she glanced at the phone, her mother tipped her head to the side. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Ava sighed. “It’s just dinner, Mom.”
“Is it, though?”
She stopped scrubbing the sink and stood up, honestly pondering the question. “I mean,” she said, then sighed in what felt a bit like defeat. Her mother knew her well. “I think so? Maybe?”
Her mom’s tender smile made her wish they were together and she could curl up and lay her head in her mother’s lap like she used to do when she was younger.
“All I’m saying is that I want you to protect your heart. I know the feelings you started to develop for this girl. I also know how much she hurt you by not taking you at your word. By not trusting you.”
“I know.”
“It took somebody else telling her the truth for her to realize you had told her the truth.”
“I know.”
Her mother sighed quietly. “ I trust you. Okay? If her apology and buying you dinner,” she pointed at the screen as she added adamantly, “ you make her buy is enough for you to give her another chance, then I can accept that. You’re a grown woman, and I trust your judgment. But, baby, protect your heart. Okay? Will you do that for your mom?”
Ava nodded as the love in her mother’s voice and on her face made Ava’s eyes well up. “I will. I promise.”
“That’s all I ask.”
* * *
“Just be your fantastic self.”
That’s what Kiki and Brian had both told Regan as she got ready to head out to dinner.
“It’s okay to apologize again,” Kiki had said. “You do owe her that. But don’t grovel. If she can’t forgive you, she can’t forgive you. You shouldn’t have to apologize forever. But you’re doing the right thing by stepping up and owning your mistake. I’m proud of you.”
Regan rode the subway to the closest stop and then walked the additional three blocks to Savor, an American fusion restaurant that her friend Jason cooked in. Extra thankful the heat wave had eased up and she wasn’t a sweat factory, she pulled the door open and gave her name to the hostess. A glance around told her Ava hadn’t arrived yet, and she was thankful for that as well. More time to calm her nerves and rehearse the things she wanted to say.
Jason had reserved her a table for two in a quiet corner. She let the hostess know she was meeting someone, then took the menu and the wine list and made herself comfortable.
Savor was small, maybe a dozen to fifteen tables total, and it wasn’t terribly busy, but it was Monday, so that made sense. She was off tomorrow and knew Ava was off today, so neither of them had work hanging over their heads tonight.
She took a deep breath and glanced down at her outfit. Simple and—hopefully—classy black pants and a red shirt with capped sleeves. Kiki had said she looked gorgeous, so she was gonna go with that, because Kiki would’ve never let her out of the apartment looking anything but presentable. Tucking hair behind her ear, she had no more time to think because there was Ava, standing just inside the door, and if Kiki thought Regan looked gorgeous, she wondered what adjectives she’d have come up with for Ava. Stunningly beautiful? Impossibly attractive? Alarmingly magnificent?
Exquisite.
That was the word that floated into Regan’s head and stayed as Ava met her gaze, then walked through the restaurant toward her. She was nervous. Regan wasn’t sure how she could tell that, but she could. She knew Ava well enough by now, and that thought surprised her a bit.
“Hi,” Ava said as Regan stood up and startled them both by hugging her. She felt Ava’s arms around her, though, so she drew herself an invisible point.
“You look beautiful,” she said as they sat.
“Thank you. You do, too.” Ava smiled at her. Another thing she could tell about Ava’s face: She knew the difference between her genuine smile and her fake one, and this one was genuine.
“It’s really good to see you.”
Ava laughed softly. “You just saw me three days ago.”
“Too long,” Regan said, and realized that she had never meant anything more.
Ava held her gaze for a moment, then looked around. “This is nice. I’ve never been here. Have you?”
“My friend Jason is the head chef, so I try to come once in a while. And I always recommend it if somebody asks.”
“Well, it smells great.”
They pretended to lose themselves in the menu. At least Regan did. She needed a minute to gather herself—she hadn’t expected seeing Ava in this setting to fluster her as much as it felt like it was. She cleared her throat and glanced over the top of her menu. “Wine?”
“God, yes” was Ava’s instantaneous response.
They grinned knowingly at each other.
The waitress arrived and they ordered a bottle of a buttery Chardonnay, laughing about how the wine got such a bad rap but they both loved it.
Ava put her forearms on the table and leaned forward a bit until Regan met her gaze. “Okay. It’s clear that we’re both nervous.”
Regan nodded her agreement.
“Which is silly, really.” Ava punctuated that with a shrug.
“Considering everything we’ve…done with each other, I agree with the silliness.” She tipped her head and watched in delight as Ava’s cheeks turned pink.
“So, how about we just…talk?”
“I like that idea.”
“Great.”
And then they sat in silence for a good thirty seconds before they burst into more laughter.
The wine came. Regan tasted and approved it, and the waitress poured, took their meal orders, and left. Ava held up her glass and Regan touched hers to it, both of them saying “Cheers.”
They sipped, and then Regan set her glass down, and it was her turn to lean forward. “Okay. I’m diving in.”
“Thank God,” Ava said, but she grinned, and it took any bite away.
“I miss you.” It was a simple sentence for a simple truth. She let it sit for a moment and waited for Ava’s expression to soften, which it did, before pushing forward. “And I fucked up. I know I did. I have apologized for that, and I’m not sure it’s enough. But I don’t know what more I can do other than continue to apologize until you believe me.” She saw Ava’s face change and knew her choice of words had hit home. “And I know I didn’t believe you, so it seems fitting that the tables have turned.”
Ava sipped her wine and seemed to be taking in Regan’s words.
“If there’s something I can do to help you feel better about it, about me, please tell me. But what I want you to know is that I’m sorry, I miss you, and I’d like to see you again. We were too good together not to even try.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to take a breath, to slow down, to steady herself. She wasn’t going to beg. She drew the line at begging. Her glass felt heavy in her hand as she took a sip and waited. The hardest ten seconds of her life.
When Ava finally spoke, her voice was soft. “I want to be angry about you not believing me. I mean, I am angry about it, but you had a good reason for feeling the way you did, so I’m trying to remember that. Your feelings didn’t materialize in a vacuum. I was partly responsible for them. I know that.” Another sip of wine. Then she inhaled a big breath and let it out very, very slowly. “I miss you, too.” She let those words hang in the air for a few seconds before she continued, and God, she was so fucking beautiful right then, Regan couldn’t help but stare. Her dark eyes seemed huge, her hair as black as night, her lips glossy with wine. “Before the stolen project fiasco, I had never in my life felt the way I felt when I was with you. When it was just you and me, alone in that room and away from the world. And I realize those were extenuating—and unrealistic—circumstances, but…” She let the sentence dangle until Regan jumped in to finish it.
“But you want it back.” At Ava’s nod, Regan reached across the table and grasped her hand. “So do I. So let’s give it a shot. Yeah? What do we have to lose?”
“Our hearts?” Ava’s eyes were wet now, and Regan held her hand tighter.
“I think you’re worth that risk.” At Ava’s audible swallow, she asked, “Do you think that I am? That we are?”
Ava’s nod was immediate, and the relief that surged through Regan’s body was so palpable, it made her gasp.
“I promise you,” she said, still holding Ava’s hand, “that I will do my best to never, ever hurt you again. You—” A lump developed in her throat, and her vision blurred from unshed tears. “You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. And I will spend the rest of my life doing my best to make sure that you’re the happiest woman on earth.”
The waitress arrived with their entrees just then and stood awkwardly while the two of them wiped their faces and chuckled through their tears.
Regan picked up her fork and said, “You know, I knew it the second time.”
Ava’s brow furrowed. “The second time what?” She lowered her voice and whispered, “We had sex?”
Regan grinned. “Yes. I knew then.”
“Knew what?”
“That we were supposed to be together. That I’d fall for you. I’d already started.”
Ava’s fork stopped halfway to her lips, and she stared at Regan for a moment before taking the bite. “Yeah. Same.”
Regan’s surprise was obvious, she knew. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. Except I knew the first time.” She looked very pleased with herself, and Regan realized they’d veered slightly from super serious to a little bit playful.
“Oh, I see. So you were ahead of me.”
“Mm-hmm. Better get used to it.”
Their gazes held, Ava smiling at her as she chewed, and Regan had the sudden understanding, like a bolt of lightning coming out of nowhere and striking her with an electric shock, that this was it.
This. Was. It.
Like a neon sign in her head telling her to stop and look and listen, to fucking pay attention. She was going to love this woman. In fact, she already did, she just wasn’t ready to voice that yet. But she knew it. Deep down, she knew it.
“You being a step ahead?” she asked, adding a teasing tone to her voice.
“Yup.”
“No problem.”
“Really?” Ava looked surprised. “No problem? You’re not gonna argue with me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just realized something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Regan leaned forward and waited until Ava’s dark eyes were locked on hers. “I’d follow you anywhere.”