Chapter 16
CLAUDIA
The custard I had created left a bit to be desired.
Hardly the most pressing problem a person ever had, but we were only a few days out from the soft opening, and I wanted everything to be perfect.
Sebastian’s entire family would be here, including cousins coming from out of town, not to mention all of his friends.
He had made a point of having me invite Hadley out too.
Until now, she wasn’t completely sure how he felt about her, what sort of impression she’d left.
Knowing he’d encouraged me to have her out for the opening meant the world to both of us.
The thought made me smile to myself as I prepared yet another custard for the trifle I was determined to nail.
All of the elements had to work in perfect harmony, and at this point, there was still a lack of balance that was driving me wild.
Not the way Sebastian normally drove me wild, either, though the thought did turn my frustrated scowl into a grin.
The nights we’d spent together had come to mean so much to me.
More than the sex, which was incredible enough on its own, but I liked the talking, bouncing ideas off each other.
And then, once the conversation was over, we’d have sex again.
Not a bad arrangement.
Soft jazz played on my phone, helping me feel a little less lonely as I worked by myself late into the night. It was the only time I had to practice with things being so busy at the restaurant. There had been so much hubbub and excitement over this opening. The results had to justify the buildup.
Restarting my playlist meant the excuse to reread Sebastian’s last text before he went to bed.
Sebastian: It’ll be a little cold and lonely without you—that trifle had better be worth it.
He wasn’t the only one who felt that way, joking or otherwise.
I might have been missing out on the chance to spend a late night having much more fun than this, but the work had its rewards.
What a joy it was to use this new equipment.
I treated it reverently because that was what it deserved.
Like a proud parent, I turned off the gas under the double boiler and moved it to a cold burner before lifting the glass bowl from atop the saucepan where water still simmered.
I had gone through countless egg yolks and more vanilla than I wanted to think about, but the flavor wasn’t quite there.
What do I need to add? Almond extract, maybe?
That would pair well with the chocolate cake and cherry preserves I would layer it with.
Inspired, I went to the pantry to find the extract, whistling to myself as I did.
When was the last time I felt this energized about my work?
This hopeful? No, I wasn’t revolutionizing anything, but I was having fun.
I had the pleasure of watching guests enjoy themselves, too, which was just as important—another thing I had missed out on during my training and time on the show.
Sure, I’m America’s Best Baker, whatever that was worth, but the real pleasure existed in observing others enjoying my work.
That was satisfying. It made all the long hours worth it.
I placed plastic wrap over the custard to keep it from forming a skin on top before leaving it in the walk-in to set up, glancing at the clock as I did.
Three thirty! How the hell did that happen?
No wonder I could barely keep my eyes open, not to mention the tightness in my neck and shoulders.
At least I was somewhat satisfied with the finished product after going through countless versions that just weren’t quite right.
I couldn’t wait to put it all together once the custard was chilled, and I would have as close an experience as possible to what the guests would enjoy once they got here.
I couldn’t wait to let Sebastian test it. I hoped he would be happy.
I certainly was.
It was lame, of course. Being this happy, joyful, and wanting to share it with a man who, for all I knew, had no interest in such things. We had a lot of fun, he challenged me the way I challenged him, and we worked well together.
I knew I would have to leave it there. I couldn’t get too personal with him.
What would happen if things between us went south, which there was no way of guaranteeing they wouldn’t?
I had a good thing going here. I was proud of my work and looked forward to it every day.
Didn’t I owe myself? Shouldn’t I protect what really mattered?
What the hell was I doing thinking about things like that when I couldn’t stop yawning?
That was the real problem. I only realized after I’d finished cleaning up that I wasn’t sure I could make it home without falling asleep on the road.
It occurred to me that I could try to find an Uber, but that would mean leaving my car here and coming back to get it in the morning.
That was a big hassle I didn’t feel like dealing with later on.
What appealed more to my weary body was the idea of spending some time in Sebastian’s new office—bigger and nicer than the other one, for sure.
For starters, there was an actual sofa and a desk that didn’t look like it had come out of a storage closet.
It made me happy for him. He deserved a nice, comfortable office like the one I retreated to after turning off the music and flipping off the kitchen lights.
Being here alone was a little eerie, but what mattered more was closing my eyes after dropping onto the couch, stacking a couple of throw pillows under my head, and kicking off my sneakers.
I would take a short nap, just enough to make sure I could get home without wrecking the car.
I didn’t have to be in early, meaning I hadn’t fucked myself over too badly by working practically until morning.
This was the right idea. I couldn’t get up now if somebody put a gun to my head. I fell asleep with a smile, looking forward to tomorrow. When was the last time I was able to do that?
It was the alarm that woke me.
I must have been out cold because the sudden high-pitched shriek made me sit up, confused, with no clue what I was supposed to do. What’s happening?
It only took a moment for the cloud of confusion to clear. When it did, I realized why the deafening alarm had gone off. Smoke was beginning to slip in from under the door.
The kitchen was on fire.
There was only one brief, heart-stopping moment of panic before a sense of calm came over me.
I knew what to do, just like I knew giving in to panic would kill me.
The alarm would send a call directly to the fire department, but how long would it take them to get here?
How big was the fire? Would I have time before it became too much?
I couldn’t afford to sit around and wait.
Scrambling off the sofa, grabbing my purse as a last-second afterthought, I went to the door and touched the back of my hand to it.
Fuck, that siren was going to crack my skull open.
The door wasn’t too warm, giving me hope for what I’d find when I opened it.
Just in case, I filled my lungs with all the air they could hold, wrapping the bottom of my shirt around my hand and turning the doorknob.
The smoke was thick, choking me in an instant, making it impossible to see.
I lifted my collar over my nose and mouth, but that didn’t do much good, leaving me coughing as I sank as low as I could, almost hugging the floor.
I wasn’t super familiar with the kitchen yet, but I knew which direction to head in, bearing left and crawling for the door leading to the back lot.
No go. Flames licked the door, the heat intense enough to make me crawl backward to get away from it. I couldn’t breathe! Every cough was torture, but I couldn’t afford to stop moving. How much longer will it take before the firefighters arrive?
My eyes were burning with tears running down my face.
I turned around, heading toward the dining room this time, while the wall above the stove and oven quickly became consumed by flames.
The kitchen, the beautiful kitchen, it was all going up in smoke.
It was too late for me to do anything about it.
I could only keep crawling, inching along, my lungs burning, every breath agony.
I wasn’t getting enough air. Which direction should I head?
I didn’t know anymore. I kept going, forcing myself through it, crawling with my eyes closed when it hurt too much to keep them open.
When I came up against a solid barrier, I ran my hands over it until I found the part that moved when I pushed—the swing door leading to the dining room.
I leaned my body against it, forcing it open.
The dining room wasn’t that smoky, but that didn’t mean much when it felt like all the smoke was now in my lungs.
I couldn’t take a breath or stand on my feet.
I could only keep crawling toward the door.
The lights from the street beyond the parking lot were barely visible as the smoke quickly filled the space, intensifying, that ear-splitting alarm still shrieking.
I had to get out.
But I couldn’t move anymore.
My head was too heavy, and my body weighed a ton.
Sebastian, I’m sorry. I burned down your restaurant.
Lowering myself to the floor, touching my cheek to the hardwood, I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, what was left of my self-preservation broke through my oxygen-deprived brain.
No. I would tell him in person, goddammit.
I was not going to die here. I didn’t know if I was wheezing or sobbing or both as I dragged my body toward the door, forcing myself up on my knees to unlock it and almost collapsing from the effort.
I leaned against it for a few seconds, hacking painfully before taking hold of the handle and throwing my body against the door to force it open.
The shrieking siren was replaced by another, this one getting louder as a red engine with flashing lights turned off the road and pulled into the lot. I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my life, even through my now cloudy vision.
They were here.
They would help me.
It was a good thing because I couldn’t help myself anymore, collapsing on my side beneath the awning bearing the restaurant’s name.