Chapter Twenty
THE FRESH, LATE summer air whizzing in through the rolled-down window of Julian’s sports car whipped Cierra’s hair into a Medusa-like frenzy.
One of her lengthy almond-colored strands had even blown over into Julian’s line of vision, eliciting a smile from him.
He placed his right hand behind her neck, gently stroking her nape with his thumb, before resting it on her exposed thigh.
It had been a week since Mia’s party, and her relationship with Julian was only feeling more and more real.
Outside of the close encounter with Erik, Cierra was feeling like nothing was in their way.
Julian had even placed a permanent toiletry bag in her apartment; they had been virtually inseparable, outside of the days he inevitably had to attend to his various business meetings or to stay at his own place for convenience, the way anyone would.
“I love these shorts,” he said, with his creased eyes focused on the two-lane highway.
Now, a few hours outside of New York City, the sides of the roads had transitioned from industrial plants and billboards to lush forests.
The sun was just beginning to set, making the greens of the woods pop against the rose-gold sky.
“Oh yeah? Just the shorts?”
“Mm-hmm,” Julian said as he lightly pinched her soft skin. When Cierra tried to swat his hand away, the right corner of his mouth curved upward.
“Hey, how’s the application coming along, by the way? For that Bravo show, right?”
“No, the Food Network.” Cierra shifted in the passenger seat and rolled up the window. “And I’m not sure, still haven’t heard from them yet.”
“Did they say when they were gonna get back to you?”
“They said we’d hear by August 20th, if we were selected.”
“Ah, okay.” The date she was supposed to have had an answer was, well, yesterday. “It’s normal for people to go over deadlines, though. Who knows, maybe you’ll get an email over the weekend. Could be they have way more applications than they were expecting.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, her voice in a low, emotionless register. Now that her contract with the Lawsons was almost complete, Cierra had found herself thinking more and more about the future.
“Besides, I’d never even heard of the show. What you should be looking for are streaming opportunities or trying to do more than just internet videos. Have you thought about how you’re gonna monetize long-term?”
Now, Cierra straightened up. Julian placed his right hand back on the wheel during her readjustment.
“I don’t think about it like that, I guess,” she said in a small voice.
“Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was that, I don’t know, I just don’t see how being a private chef is going to be sustainable.
You’re young now, you don’t have real responsibilities, but soon you will.
Being on call is gonna get old soon. And being on socials — again, it’s great for now — but do you really want to be posting regular videos of yourself for years on end? I’m just thinking about your future.”
With only seven years between them, issues like this rarely came up.
But the way he was talking to her right now made her feel like she was his misguided niece — not his girlfriend.
Furthermore, she resented that some points he brought up were valid.
When she first took the position with the Lawsons, she was desperate, and her primary goal was staying afloat.
And while she was no longer in dire straits, she had wondered about the long-term.
She was thirty, and her priorities were shifting.
Making enough to pay rent and go out once a week wasn’t enough anymore.
She wanted savings: enough to think about maybe buying a house in the next decade or traveling internationally by herself without putting it all on a credit card.
She wanted benefits. Also, she wanted more control over her time.
This time next year, she wanted to be in a backyard somewhere playing with her soon-to-be niece or nephew.
More weekends with her mom. And while she got what she needed out of the job this summer, she knew that if she kept on this path she’d end up with the same problems.
She’d given it an honest run: going after her culinary aspirations, changing her career, busting her ass for her dream of having a spot on Plated.
But she had other dreams, too. And part of getting older, and realizing what her personal priorities were, meant acknowledging when it was time for her to say, I gave it all I got.
She didn’t want to let her dreams ruin all the other realities that made her life worth living.
Zelda’s ‘dream job’ made her a nervous wreck half the time, and she hadn’t had a day off in years.
Erik’s ‘dream job’ had fired him, and now he was happier than he could have imagined doing something completely different.
Dreams could deceive, but dreams could also change.
“Cee?” Julian asked, pulling Cierra back to the present.
“They’re more than cute videos. It’s how I get business. It’s how I got the opportunity to apply for Plated in the first place,” she replied defensively.
Julian exhaled and turned left onto an unpaved rural road, leading deeper into the forest. “Listen, I’m not coming for you. Can we start over? I’m sorry for how that came out. You know I think your job is great.”
“It’s fine, not a big deal,” she said softly. “Sorry, I have other things on my mind. Just, um, a little in my head about this application I think. Thanks for apologizing.”
“I understand,” he said. He squeezed her leg again, and they began the ascent up the gravel road toward their destination.
In a clearing the size of a football field, a cabin made of aged wood sprouted up from the hilltop, culminating at an imposing, pointed peak.
The entire front and back of the cabin, in a typical A-frame and adorned with the standard materials, were eighty percent windows.
The windows’ privacy treatment was obvious, reflecting the ferns, sky, and long grass of the surrounding property.
Cierra hopped out of the passenger door and went to grab her bags, but Julian had already beaten her to the trunk.
“I got it, babe. Your job this weekend is to relax. What do you think?”
Cierra spun slowly around on her heels, taking in the foliage’s smell, the warmth of the sun hitting her skin, and the noise.
Rather, the lack of noise. In Manhattan, there was always something blaring in the background.
Sirens, cars, screaming, construction. But here, there was nothing but the mountains.
For Cierra, it was like listening to a song without the bass or drums, leaving the melody exposed.
“It’s better than I could have expected,” she murmured. “I don’t know why you ever leave.”
“There’s someone very important to me in the city,” he replied. That was yet another worry: What would become of them if she moved?
Cierra walked over to Julian and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m glad you like it. Wanna go inside?”
She widened her brown eyes and nodded her head emphatically, running to the porch. She opened the wooden door to the mountain get-away and gasped.
Instinctively, Cierra went straight to the kitchen.
It had an open lay-out, with black granite countertops and a hanging baker’s rack filled with metallic, vintage-looking pots and pans in various shades of silver and copper and even a few cast iron skillets.
They hadn’t fully discussed what they were planning on doing for food, but on the car ride, they’d spotted a few markets and still had time to make it before they closed.
There were also a few nearby restaurants, but when Cierra opened the fridge door, she was greeted with a fresh grocery haul.
“I had my housekeeper grab some basics,” Julian said happily. “Obviously, this is a getaway weekend, and I was thinking I could cook for you this time around.”
“Julian . . . this is so . . .” Before she could say anything else, he embraced her from behind. One of his hands slid under her shirt, roaming upward, while he lightly bit her ear.
“Can I show you the upstairs before dinner?”
Her cheeks flushed, with a wide smile on her face as she turned to him. Julian scooped her up and carried her fireman-style up the stairs. Cierra squealed and laughed as she got a view of the living area upside down.
The upstairs was like a cove, with a spacious bedroom and ensuite bathroom, making it feel like their own alpine world.
Here, in this cocoon, the worries of whether she’d get accepted to the show melted away.
She fantasized about what life could look like with Julian full-time: making breakfast, going on swims in a nearby river.
Then, memories of Erik flooded into her mind: cooking alongside her in Mexico, splashing around the pool in the Catskills, brief glances on slow mornings while he sat near the kitchen island as she meal-prepped.
Pulling her away from her thinking, she looked up at Julian from where he’d softly placed her on the bed, ignoring the gnawing questions beginning to surface.
She’d made the right choice, end of story.
She was happy. Julian was everything she ever wanted, and she wasn’t going to let any distractions get in the way.
So why couldn’t she help but wonder: if she was falling in love with Julian as she purported to be, then why did her heart ache at the thought of being away from another man?