CHAPTER 8
Maya
SEBASTIAN AND I DIDN’T TALK ABOUT MY DATE WITH Nikhil again. We were too consumed with work and, in my case, birthday planning, maternal matchmaking, and general anxiety about my life, but that was neither here nor there.
The most important thing right now was the official announcement of the Derek Gardiner frozen foods line. It’d rolled out that morning, one week after my disastrous date at Brasserie M, and I’d been glued to my phone since.
The major trade outlets had instantly picked up the news, which was amplified by a splashy billboard campaign near key supermarkets, aggressive online marketing, and a special interview we’d set up for Derek with Gourmand magazine.
The fallout from last month’s listeria contamination had died down.
No additional cases were reported, and we’d even received commendations for our effective crisis response.
We were still dealing with reputational brand damage since “Singh Foods” and “listeria” were now intertwined in the general public’s minds, but it could’ve gone a lot worse.
Overall, the collab announcement went as well as I could’ve hoped… so why did I feel so uneasy?
“Social media reception is good.” Sebastian scrolled through his phone. “Most journalists and influencers are intrigued by the idea. They love Derek, so that’s a plus for us.”
“Most?” I frowned. “Who are the outliers?”
We were working out of a previously unused office at my family’s company headquarters in Midtown. This was our new meeting spot going forward, since people kept coming up to say hi to Sebastian at Valhalla and interrupting us.
We’d had a full-blown argument over the location, but in the end, I’d won. The Singh headquarters was the perfect midpoint between my Upper East Side apartment and his West Village townhouse, and it had more free space than the Laurents’ New York offices. It just made sense.
One point to Team Singh.
“The major one is Hollis Miller,” Sebastian said. “He made a whole video ranting about ‘chefs who sell out,’ but that’s how he is. I’d be shocked if he had something nice to say right off the bat.”
I groaned. Hollis Miller was an influencer who fashioned himself the “internet’s truth teller” for all food-related topics. He spewed some garbage takes, but he’d amassed millions of followers who took his word as gospel.
“We’ll have to prove him wrong,” I decided. “He can’t complain about Derek being a sellout if the product is so good it blows his fucking mind.”
Sebastian made a noncommittal noise. He’d been distracted all day, but I let it slide since I had my own issues to deal with.
I tapped my pen against the desk, strangely restless.
Putting Hollis’s video aside, why couldn’t I celebrate pulling off a flawless launch announcement? I should be sending a company-wide email highlighting the impressive stats, not stewing in uncertainty.
Maybe it was because something about the contamination cases still didn’t make sense. There was a missing detail that tickled my brain like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
Or maybe…
I glanced over at my least favorite Laurent. He was still scrolling on his phone, his brow furrowed.
Maybe it was my proximity to Sebastian. He was still irritating, infuriating, and every other negative adjective that ended in ing, but he was also comforting, in his own way. I knew what to expect when it came to him, but I felt the sands beneath our relationship slowly shifting.
First, there was my apology to him at the Vault, which I’d blurted out in a fit of drunken guilt.
He’d accepted it without question, which was out of character for him.
Then he’d suggested the Five Trials to take my mind off that shitty week (he could deny it, but I knew that was what he’d been doing).
Last week’s dessert had been the cherry on top.
I’d fucked up when I’d called him about it, but I had to know. What was he playing at?
Between the chocolate bonbon and free cake, I was convinced Sebastian was waging some form of food-based warfare. To what end, I had no clue, but I didn’t trust his seemingly innocent actions one bit.
Sebastian put his phone away and stood. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
He stared at me like I was particularly slow. “To lunch.”
“I’m just going to order delivery. There’s too much to do here.” Now that the world knew about the collaboration, I had to make sure the actual launch was perfect. If I didn’t win an award for next year’s rollout, I was going to be pissed and, worse, embarrassed.
That was the part no one told you about succeeding. Once you achieved something, you had to keep achieving it and more. The baseline rose with every accomplishment, and if you didn’t meet it—especially if you were a woman in corporate—you were perceived as having “lost your touch.”
Perhaps there’d be a day when I stopped caring about others’ opinions, but today was not that day.
“Maya.” Sebastian leaned forward and planted his hands on the table. His eyes drilled into mine. “You are not eating some sad, wilted salad for lunch when there’s an incredible ramen place two blocks away. I know the owner. We’ll be in and out in forty minutes, tops.”
“Forty?” I was aghast. Did he know how many emails I could answer in forty minutes?
I liked a nice, leisurely meal as much as the next girl, but not during work hours. Not when my reputation and pride rested on my ability to pull off the biggest, best product launch the food industry had ever seen.
“They have the best vegetarian ramen in the city,” Sebastian coaxed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it. Trust me.”
“You eat the ramen,” I said firmly. “I’ll stay here.”
I sounded like a total killjoy, but I didn’t mix work with pleasure. Not that I considered lunch with Sebastian a pleasure—it was the principle of the matter.
His eyes narrowed. After a minute, he shook his head and left.
Finally.
I exhaled, my entire body deflating. When he was here, he took up so much oxygen that I had to remind myself to breathe.
The problem was, when he wasn’t here, I had nothing to distract me.
I stared at the notifications popping up in the top-right corner of my screen like clockwork. Emails, texts, and WhatsApp messages about everything from ad metrics to my birthday cake to bridesmaid duties for Priya’s wedding.
My pulse sped up. I grabbed my water bottle and took a healthy swig, trying to calm my nerves.
It’s fine. I can outdo myself. I always did.
But what if I didn’t? What if I performed worse than I had in the past? Would it be the start of a slippery slope downhill? When did I start second-guessing myself so much anyway?
I’d sailed through my teen years and twenties with the assurance of someone who was used to winning. Even when I lost—usually to fucking Sebastian—I brushed myself off and got right back up. I never considered the possibility that my setbacks would be permanent.
I was in my early thirties now, and the sudden negative mindset shift worried me almost as much as the prospect of failure.
I opened my to-do list and tried to figure out what to check off next. I’d just settled on reviewing some new ad creatives when the door swung open, and Sebastian walked in carrying a large brown paper bag.
“That was fast,” I said. He’d only been gone for twenty minutes.
“I didn’t dine in.” He placed the bag on the table and opened it. The savory scent of broth and noodles billowed across the table, and my stomach let out an embarrassing rumble.
Sebastian retrieved a black takeout bowl and pushed it toward me.
“Eat it while it’s hot, or Harumi will personally hunt you down.
The ramen shop owner,” he clarified when I raised my eyebrows.
“He normally doesn’t do takeout since it affects the taste and texture of the noodles, but since you were being your annoyingly stubborn self, he made a one-time exception for me. ”
His tone was dry, and his expression held a trace of exasperation. That didn’t stop a wave of warmth from cresting in my stomach.
I couldn’t stand it when Sebastian acted like a normal, decent human. I much preferred when he was being an ass.
It was easier to hate him that way.
“Don’t read too much into it.” It was as if he’d heard my thoughts. “No one has ever had a bad meal when they’re with me. I won’t let you ruin my perfect record.”
“Maybe they were just too polite to tell you your recommendations suck.”
Sebastian’s eyes sparked with a mix of humor and challenge. “Then try it and tell me what you think.”
I did, and dammit, it was good. Better than good. The rich broth, the perfectly chewy texture of the noodles, the balance of flavors—it was the best ramen I’d ever had.
I glared at Sebastian’s knowing smile. I was tempted to spite him by lying, but I also wanted to devour the rest of the bowl immediately.
“Don’t say a word.” I pointed my chopsticks at him. “This is sustenance. That’s all.”
“Your commitment to denial is adorable.”
“Keep it up, and you’ll be wearing this ramen soon. Let’s see what Harumi has to say about that.”
Sebastian laughed, but he took the hint and stopped provoking me.
We ate quietly. This was much better than eating a sad salad alone, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.
Our relationship had changed, but it hadn’t changed that much.
“Do you remember when our school hired that new chef our junior year?” Sebastian broke the silence a little while later. “I’m pretty sure he was the reason for Fasting Friday. No one wanted to eat his lasagna.”
“Which was why he was fired in record time.” I shuddered at the memory of his bland, runny pasta. “He was pretty horrible.”
“His replacement wasn’t that good either. You’d think they would’ve served us better food, considering how much they charged for tuition.”
“I guess the top chefs weren’t interested in catering to a bunch of teenagers in Switzerland.” I twirled a noodle around my chopsticks. “Honestly, the school should’ve hired you. Even as a teenager, you cooked better than most of the professionals.”
Sebastian’s brows arched. “Was that a compliment, Sal?” He sounded amused.
Heat scorched my cheeks. “It was the truth. I can give credit where credit’s due.”
Cooking was one of the few areas where I didn’t bother trying to compete. My talents in the kitchen were limited to a handful of dishes, and I liked eating food way more than I liked preparing it.
“I always thought you would become a chef,” I said. “I didn’t see you going into marketing.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, his expression shuttering. “You can’t do it all.”
I examined him, my senses tingling. I’d never given much thought to his career path.
In our world, taking over our families’ companies was expected.
But I had sisters who were buffers for our parents’ expectations; Sebastian didn’t.
He was an only child. The golden boy. The pressure for him to follow a prescribed path must be immense.
My mind flashed back to our freshman year of college. There’d been a huge snowstorm. The dining halls were closed, and food delivery services were limited. Sebastian invited a bunch of people over to his apartment and kept us fed all weekend.
I remembered how happy he’d looked in the kitchen and how genuine his smile had been when I’d (reluctantly) complimented his cooking.
I couldn’t remember him ever looking that happy in an office.
A strange tightness squeezed my chest. I finished my ramen and pushed the bowl aside. “If anyone can do it all, it’s you,” I said. “That’s what makes you so annoying.”
Sebastian’s mouth tipped up at the corners, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The tightness squeezed harder.
Maybe I was having a heart attack. That would track with how my year had been going so far.
“If our families weren’t friends, do you think we would’ve talked?” Sebastian abruptly switched subjects.
“Of course. We were in the same year, and our school wasn’t that big.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
My heart stuttered at the quiet, unexpected intensity behind his words.
Oh, God. I really was having a cardiac episode.
I opened my mouth, but my response drowned beneath the echoes of yet another memory. Senior year of boarding school, minutes before our commencement ceremony.
“Maya, wait.” His hand caught my wrist.
“What do you want, Sebastian?”
“I…”
A student volunteer from the administrative office had interrupted us, saying they needed Sebastian backstage ASAP to go over some things for his valedictorian’s speech.
Sebastian never followed up with what he was going to tell me, and I never asked. But there were times, when I was alone and obsessing over that split-second interaction, that I thought… That maybe he…
No. He’d probably wanted to rub his valedictorian status in my face. That was why he’d nicknamed me Sal, after all. It was short for salutatorian, and it was his way of reminding me of the one accomplishment I’d never achieve.
“I’m sure you would’ve weaseled your way into my life somehow,” I said, finding my words. I hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in my voice. “You’re relentless that way.”
A flash of what looked like disappointment crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“True. I’m nothing if not persistent.” He tossed another smile my way.
It felt even emptier than the last one. “Well, this has been fun, but I have to head out. We have a new restaurant opening in Pittsburgh next month, and I need to finalize some details.”
“Fine. I also have to—” I stopped short, my pulse spiking again for an entirely different reason.
Pittsburgh.
That was it. That was the detail that had been nagging at me.
I shoved my chair back and stood so fast I banged my knee on the underside of the table. I barely registered the pain through the sudden adrenaline rush.
Sebastian frowned. “Are you okay? What—”
“I have to go. I just remembered I’m late for, um, a doctor’s appointment.” I grabbed my bag and practically ran to the exit. “See you next week!”
I didn’t wait for Sebastian’s response. The door slammed shut behind me, and my heart pounded as I rushed downstairs.
I could be overthinking, per usual. Pittsburgh might not be connected to that summer’s listeria outbreak at all, but my gut told me there was something there, and my gut was rarely wrong.
Driving was easier than booking a last-minute flight. Our family’s jet was under maintenance, and I didn’t want to deal with a crowded airport.
Thankfully, I’d driven to work that morning, so I didn’t need to go home to fetch my car. I texted Vivian to reschedule that night’s party-planning session and entered a new address into the GPS.
I was going to Pittsburgh.