Chapter 2 #2
Sadé shook her head. “It’s all divine timing, princesa.
Listen, when honeybee expressed wanting to move to Roseville, I wasn’t with it.
I wanted to stay in D.C. and open our nail bar there.
But look at how well we're doing out here. Everything worked out the way it’s supposed to. The same will happen for you.”
I smiled at her endearing words. Sadé always knew what to say and when to say it.
“Dessert is served,” Raven announced while carefully carrying a cart with three ramekins of the rich custard. I sat up, ready to indulge, while Sadé continued smoking. “What y’all out here talking about?” Raven hadn’t even settled in her seat before being nosy.
Sadé and I exchanged a look.
“Why are you so nosy?” Sadé rolled her eyes. Seconds later a smile spread across her face that made Raven do the same. I watched them in disgust. Sadé’s tan was just as enviable as Raven’s.
“I’m gonna take this to-go,” I told them, uninterested in watching them ogle each other.
Raven pouted. “Already? It’s barely noon.”
“Yes, I need to get to B we didn’t take her influence lightly.
The chime resounded throughout the restaurant, alerting me of Nadir's prompt arrival. I peered through the window from the service area, waiting for him to round the corner. The dining room wasn’t complete, but I knew he was eager to see the updates.
Nadir glanced around the restaurant while nodding.
His gaze lingered on the artwork on the wall.
My heart fluttered at the smile on his face.
He hadn’t seen the restaurant since I had the walls painted a warm terracotta color and the new sepia laminate floors were installed.
Before he could catch me staring, I busied myself with our food. Reaching for my phone, I lowered the music playing.
“All this for me?” Nadir asked as he strolled into the kitchen.
The smile in his voice matched the charming one on his face as he walked over to me. I tugged on the bottom of my chef’s coat, unable to contain my excitement. I removed it in enough time to hug him. The moment he was within arm’s reach, a throng of butterflies filled my stomach.
“Hey,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck. Biting down on my bottom lip, I inhaled his citrusy, bergamot scented cologne.
“Wassup,” he replied, squeezing me tightly, like he always did. “You finally made time for me, huh?”
His deep, gravelly voice sent warmth through me.
“Stop it. I always have time for you.”
“Not lately,” he said, stepping back to meet my gaze.
His hold on my waist remained firm as he awaited my reply.
My eyes roved his russet brown skin, from his slanted chocolate-colored eyes to the wide bridge of his nose until I stopped at his lips.
The same soft lips that left sweet kisses on my forehead from time to time.
“I’m just playing with you,” he told me moments later.
The sweet smirk on his lips pulled at my heart.
My gaze returned to his. “I know.”
I ended our embrace once my senses kicked in and moved to the counter where the food was waiting.
“The dining area looks nice. Sadé painted?”
I nodded while smiling. “She is finishing the rest this week.”
Sadé painted grapevines in the corners of the restaurant and inscribed, “Cooking is an act of love”—a saying my abuelita used often—above the kitchen entrance. She was finishing up a vineyard mural in the dining room. It looked beautiful so far and I couldn't wait to see the finished product.
“So what’s on the menu, Chef? What am I trying today?”
“I made a few things for us.”
He chuckled before listening as I listed each item.
“In the fridge is dessert. I made tembleque and panetela.” I clapped my hands together, excited to dabble in each dish. Nadir’s mouth curved into a mischievous half-smile.
“What?”
“You got that twinkle in your eye, princesa,” he said.
When he called me by my family name, I didn't feel chafed like I did by my siblings. Every time my nickname rolled off his tongue, goosebumps covered my skin. He said it like he should’ve been the only one worthy of calling me such a name.
I hated how much I loved hearing it from him.
There was no way I’d ever tell him because he’d never stop.
“Ha-ha,” I said dryly, and he chuckled. “You love to tease me.”
“I do.” Nadir rubbed his hands together while eyeing everything. “Where do we start?”
Again, I looked over his appearance. I expected him to dress more casually since it was just us trying my dishes.
But I wasn't mad at the all-black fit he sported. Stretched across the broad expanse of his chest in elegant script was the word, Ray’s.
The high-quality cotton shirt was tucked into his tailored slacks.
“First, mofongo and tostones. I can’t decide which one to put on the menu.”
I grabbed two stools for us to sit, then handed him a set of silverware.
Nadir nodded while eyeing the plated dishes. “I’ve had mofongo before, remember?”
“Yes, but I tweaked the recipe a bit, and as you can see, this one has shrimp. The one you had before didn’t.”
Glancing at the dish, I admired how nicely I’d plated the mix of mashed plantain and broth, topped with three shrimp.
I picked up the fork and took the first bite.
Nadir ate a piece of shrimp, and while he chewed, I watched closely to gauge his reaction.
A beat passed before he shrugged and made a sound that meant he might’ve been impressed.
Picking up his fork, he dug into the dish.
For a long second, he was silent. His eyes lowered as a smile played on his lips.
Finally, he closed his eyes and savored the flavors of my abuelita's spice mix.
“You got a gift,” he told me. There was warmth in his eyes. He put down his fork, then picked up mine. “Here,” he urged the fork toward my mouth.
I wrinkled my nose and swatted at his hand.
“You know you didn’t need my help with this, right?” He lowered the fork. “I’ve never tasted anyone’s cooking as good as yours. Don’t tell my momma I said that though.”
I fought back a simper. “I do need your help. Everything has to be perfect.”
Nadir sighed. “Relax. Just enjoy the food, don’t critique it or try to figure out if you should’ve added another pinch of salt or whatever you chefs say. Out here we don’t care too much about that. Good food isn’t just about taste, it’s a feeling. You feel me?”
I nodded, and this time I accepted the fork when he held it toward my mouth. A moan slipped from my lips as I savored the spiciness of the broth and a slight sweetness in the plantain.
My abuelita always said, “A little bit of sweet mixed with a little bit of spice guarantees a good bite, every time.”
I smiled after swallowing the small portion.
“Shit is amazing, right?”
After wiping my mouth, I replied, “It is.”
Nadir ate another forkful of mofongo. “Your abuelita would be proud.”
Heat filled my cheeks at his sweet words.
“Your Spanish is getting better.”
“Thanks to my teacher,” he replied coolly with a wink.
He wore his newly trimmed locs in a loose, sloppy bun. I tilted my head to the side, wondering if he was still upset about missing Avery’s birthday. The only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was stressed. He claimed having his hair hanging in his face bothered him more.
Shaking away a sudden wave of intense fondness I felt for Nadir, I moved onto the next part of the tasting.
“I’m thinking of pairing this with a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc.” I poured the wine into the glasses in front of us. After examining the wine’s defects, I swirled the glasses gently to activate its aromas. Nadir watched attentively while biting back a smile. “Inhale and tell me what notes you smell.”
Nadir accepted the glass and followed instructions. For now, he was an oenophile, but I would make sure he’d become a connoisseur sooner rather than later.
“It’s fruity.” I nodded, impressed by his observation. “I smell pineapple. Is that right?”
“There are notes of pineapple, yes.” The boyish smile on his face had my heart beating triple time. “Now, take a sip,” I instructed him. For a second, his eyebrows furrowed, then they lifted.
“I taste citrus notes, I think?” His thoughtful eyes met mine. “Is that right?”
“It is. This isn’t a test,” I told him.
Nadir pushed out a breath, then took another sip. His relief was amusing to say the least.
“It is when I'm sitting next to a master sommelier.”
While rolling my eyes, I replied, “I’m still learning.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”