12. SOPHIE
SOPHIE
The flowers arrive early in the morning, about an hour after I get up and come down to the kitchen to finish the orders I started last night.
After the incredible opening last night, I want to keep the momentum going and make sure that my first full day open goes just as smoothly.
My prep list is spread out, multiple pots simmering on the stove, and I’m covered in olive oil and flour when Marco carts in a flower arrangement the size of a small child.
“These just came.” He sets them at the end of the prep station.
I wipe my hands on my apron and stare at them for a moment. They are extraordinary. White peonies and garden roses, something trailing and delicate I don’t know the name of. My stomach twists as I reach for the card, already hoping and dreading whatever Vin wrote.
The card says: Congratulations on your opening night. The food was extraordinary. — Gavin
I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, the twisting in my stomach turning into a lead ball. Not from Vin. I set the card down, smooth my apron, and go back to my kitchen.
Of course it’s Gavin. Of course he’s the guy who sends flower the morning after my opening after sitting there and supporting me all night. I would expect nothing less from the guy who’s been showing up, quiet and persistent, for weeks now.
Vin, on the other hand, he’s the guy who shoves your face into the pillow and pounds into you while calling you his dirty cumslut. He shows up covered in blood in the middle of the night expecting you to absolve him of his sins before he shatters your soul. He’s not the guy who sends flowers.
Last night? Clearly an anomaly. He must have hit his head. But Gavin? He shows up, steady and supportive, as always.
I turn sharply on my heel and head back to the prep station and keep pushing forward.
**
The lunch rush hits early, differently hectic than last night, more laidback but crowded.
Two food writers I recognize from Instagram perch at a corner table, notebooks open.
A group of women in suits are splitting the burrata three ways and one of them has her eyes closed like she’s receiving a sacrament.
A few men sit at the bar, laughing and drinking Italian draft beers.
The new Arsenal is 1000 times more alive than the old Arsenal. And it’s mine. It’s all mine.
The ticket printer starts, and I go back to work.
I don’t see Gavin come in, but I hear him talking to Marco at the server station. I wipe my hands on my apron and push through the kitchen door to find him grinning in a dark jacket with his collar open.
“There she is,” he says.
“Gavin.” I smile. “The flowers are beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did.” He says it simply, like it’s obvious. “How’s the first full day going?”
“Good.” I glance back at the kitchen, automatically. “Really good, actually. Come in, sit down if you want coffee.”
“I won’t stay long,” he says, but he follows me to the bar and settles onto a stool. “I wanted to check in. Last night was…” He shakes his head. “You’re extraordinary, Sophia. What you’ve built here.”
I blush under his praise and drop my gaze to the bar top. “Thank you.”
“You know, last night, with Vin.” Gavin tilts his head, choosing his words. “He seemed a little intense with you.”
I keep my expression easy and find a way to be truthful without revealing too much. “Vin has a lot of opinions about everything, and last night it was the contents of my menu. That’s pretty normal, actually.”
“Right.” Gavin nods slowly. He always seems to know when not to push. “I believe you promised me that once the restaurant opened, you’d let me take you out.”
I laugh at that, because he’s not wrong. “I did say that.”
“I’m here to collect.” He spreads his hands. “Nothing elaborate. We could just go up the street and get a sandwich or a cup of coffee when you have time.”
The idea is genuinely appealing. I’ve been so busy and even just taking an hour of down time would be amazing.
“That sounds good actually. Yes. Okay.”
“Yeah?” His grin takes over his whole face.
For some reason all I see is the crushed look on Vin’s face when I told him we were done last night followed by his intensity when he dried me off and put me to bed.
“Do you think maybe I could convince you to cook just for me sometime?”
The question lands strangely. Is he just the next guy who wants me to fuck and feed him? I try to push the thought aside.
“Yeah.” I laugh again. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I would never.” He stands, sliding off the stool, and pauses.
“I’ll text you,” he says.
“You do that.”
He’s halfway to the door when my phone rings.
I look down at the screen.
It’s Vin. My heart practically stops beating. He almost never calls. The number of times he has I can count on one hand, and each time something was wrong.
The phone keeps ringing. I want to answer it, but I don’t. I let it ring out. I stand there staring at the blank screen for a long time after it stops ringing. The image of Vin’s face is branded on my brain, his voice saying please. Please! Vin Demonio practically begging me to—
To do what? I shake my head. To be his side piece, his mistress, his gumar? Hell no.
But… my answer to you is always yes. And it is. Even when it shouldn’t be. Which is exactly why I cannot keep answering.
A text comes through from Vin before I’ve finished the thought.
Sorry. I called you by accident.
I stare at it. I type back before I can stop myself.
It’s okay.
I watch the three dots appear and disappear and appear again.
How are you
Another pause. The dots again, then nothing.
Vin, do you need something?
No. Just checking in
I set the phone face-down on the bar then pick it up again. My new kitchen staff is struggling to keep up with the orders and Gavin is still at the hostess station chatting with Marco. Now is not the time for this. I slide the phone in my pocket.
It buzzes, and I can’t help myself.
I lied. I didn’t call on accident.
My throat tightens. I type back, quickly, before the soft, stupid part of my brain takes over.
Vin, you can’t do this.
The dots appear immediately.
I want to see you.
I glance into the kitchen then over at Gavin. Focus, Sophia. This is not your man.
I don’t want to see you.
I put the phone in my apron pocket before I can read his response. I don’t pull it out when the buzz comes again. Instead, I keep moving, keep my hands busy, keep my eyes on the food in front of me, but the orders are starting to slow and I’m running out of things to distract me.
“Hey.” Gavin appears at the kitchen door. “Any chance you can take a quick break? We could grab coffee across the street? Just 20 minutes, I promise.”
I pull the phone out of my apron without reading Vin’s text and slide it into my back pocket.
“Twenty minutes,” I say, untying my apron. “And you’re buying.”
He smiles. “Obviously.”
I head out with Gavin without looking at my phone. Without responding to Vin.
It feels like a strong start.