Chapter 12
Me and Ronnie made it home around two a.m.
I showered, moisturized, brushed my teeth, and laid in bed with my bonnet on and nothing else. I hated sleeping in anything and loved the feel of the cool sheets against my skin. My phone was in my hand as I scrolled aimlessly on social media, my nightly routine until I fell asleep.
My mind wandered to Remy and a smile slowly settled on my face.
Curious, I Googled him. His website, news articles for his restaurant and his profile pages popped up.
I clicked on his Instagram. His page was perfectly curated with images and videos of dishes, his restaurant, customer reviews, and cooking tutorials.
I scrolled down further but it was all the same.
Professional, neat, and impersonal.
Then I checked his Facebook and TikTok. All the same.
I decided to watch his videos. I was pretty deep into his profiles before I noticed something.
In his earlier ones, he was bright-eyed and bubbly, joking as he presented perfectly plated meals or shared new recipes.
But as I continued to scroll, I could slowly see the light leaving his eyes.
That was probably around the time his wife got sick I presumed.
I clicked on his latest video. He was in his kitchen, denim shirt on, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a smile on his face. I pressed play:
"How y'all doing. As you can see, I'm back in the lab, so you know I've been cooking something special.
" He smiled that easy smile of his. "This time, I have an amazing dessert with simple ingredients but elevated.
It's guaranteed to please all the senses and wow any crowd.
" His eyes locked on the camera. "I call it… 'The Gianna.'"
“What the hell…” I whispered in surprise, sitting up. "Did this nigga really name a dessert after me?" I stared at the screen hard.
“It’s a layered, lemon olive oil cake,” he continued moving around the counter with ease. “Raspberry coulis base, whipped mascarpone cream, a little Madagascar vanilla to round it out."
My mouth slowly fell open. That was the exact dessert he made me. I watched with equal parts surprise and flattery as he prepared the dessert. He plated it carefully, narrating each step in that calm voice warm voice.
“Sometimes,” he said, placing the final garnish down, “the best dishes come from inspiration.”
My stomach fluttered.
He held the plate up toward the camera. “And this one was inspired by someone I met recently.”
I shook my head, biting back a smile. “Fucking charmer…”
He smiled softly and slid the dessert forward so the camera could see it clearly. “Hope y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed preparing it. The Gianna is now available for a limited time at Simmer & Soul. Y'all take care and remember…food is love.” The video ended.
I sat there in silence for a moment, staring at the screen.
Then I replayed it twice. By the third time, I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
“He must've known I would see this shit,” I muttered.
Climbing out of bed, I went over and opened my purse that sat on the dresser.
Pulling out his card, I stared at his number.
Ronnie’s voice echoed in my head. "We don’t date, GG."
With a heavy sigh, I fell back against the pillows. “I’m not dating him,” I murmured to myself. "I'm just curious."
I hesitated for a long moment. Then I typed his name in. My thumb moved before I could stop it. Remel Robinson.
Add contact?
Fuck it.
I saved his number with a little chef hat emoji. A minute later I opened a new message. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What the hell was I even supposed to say? I stared at the screen…then finally typed:
Chef Handsome: So… do all the women you meet get desserts named after them?
I stared at the message…then hit send. My stomach flipped. “Oh shit,” I whispered, dropping the phone on my chest. Now I had to see what he said.