Chapter 29
twenty-nine
LIAM
Maya:
Just landed in Tallinn. I’ll call you when I get to the hotel
Me:
Would it be terribly unattractive of me to ask where in the world that is?
Maya:
You really underestimate how attractive you are. And it’s in Estonia
Me:
Oh yeah, I remember now. You have a new hotel there, right?
Ever since I stopped being an idiot and texted Maya last week, we’ve talked on the phone every day. She left Antibes right after her work was done, but then she said she needed some more time in Europe before she came back. Something about making a compromise with her father.
At first I was disappointed she extended her trip. But then she told me she wanted to do it so she wouldn’t have to leave again any time soon.
Maya:
Yep! Just one more stop in Bergen and then I’ll be home. It’s not exactly the best time of year to visit the fjords, but the snow is beautiful. Pray for me that I don’t freeze!
Another city I can’t place. I should probably google it instead of asking her again. But I’m not sure I even care where she’s going. I’m solely focused on when she’ll be home . I really love hearing her use that word. I’m kind of addicted to it.
Me:
It’s probably just as cold here, but I do have a fireplace and a very warm bed that’s been patiently waiting for you
She sends back a string of emojis that has me chuckling at my phone. I’m not sure why she always includes the french horn with the eggplant, but I look forward to finding out in person.
It’s over a week before she’s finally en route to Burlington. The last text she sent before her flight details was in all caps saying she was never going to Scandinavia in January again. Weather delays have not been our friend.
I picked up Poppy thirty minutes early from school, knowing how upset she’d be if she missed the homecoming. And in some weird twist of magic, Mr. Milkshake snuck into the car before we left town. Neither of us noticed him until we were pulling into the airport.
Now Poppy has him curled in her lap while we navigate to the private terminal.
“Where is she?” my daughter asks for the tenth time since we stopped the car. She’s kicking her heels on the seat and bouncing the poor cat in her lap. In Poppy’s defense, he was not invited on this trip.
“I’m pretty sure that’s her plane,” I say, pointing to a jet in front of us. “Let’s just wait a minute and see if she comes out.”
It seems like I’m going to need to have another talk with my daughter about listening to what I say because in seconds she’s out of the car—still holding the mysterious cat—and running toward the plane.
“Poppy!” I yell, chasing after her. Luckily she’s not very fast, and even more luckily, Maya finally makes her appearance on the stairs just a moment later.
She looks ethereal walking down the steps, like the sun is shining only on her. The wind whips her hair while she clutches the lapels of her long coat. And to my delight, as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs she rushes right toward us, excitement bubbling across all her features.
“Daddy said I could hug you first,” my daughter yells as soon as we all collide. And then, still wrapped around Maya, she says, “I just have to let him kiss you and not make it weird.”
Maya laughs. “Do I get any say here?” She picks up Poppy and balances her on her hip while she leans toward me. “How about a group hug?”
I wrap one arm around her, another around Poppy. Without even realizing it, I have a fistful of Maya’s hair in my hand. Then I use it to pull her toward me.
“One kiss,” I propose. “Poppy approved.” I drop my lips onto her forehead, let them linger just long enough for her to know how good it feels. “All right, let’s get you home.”
When I pull back, Maya’s eyes are closed, but her smile is wide. She sets Poppy down and gestures for someone to bring her luggage to the car. Then she takes a longer look at Poppy and furrows her brow a bit. “Is anyone going to mention why the town cat is here?”
The ride home is…loud. Poppy’s excitement about having Maya back hasn’t seemed to dissipate at all, like she still can’t believe she’s here. She keeps reaching up from the backseat to touch Maya’s hair or squeeze her arm. She’s giving a play-by-play for every single minute of the whole month Maya’s been gone.
She’s even started describing some of her dreams. One was only about noodle rice.
“Sorry,” I apologize on my daughter’s behalf. Again.
“It’s okay,” Maya says, reaching back for Poppy’s hand. “She’s just feeling iktsuarpok. I was too, the whole flight here.”
“What’s that mean?” Poppy asks, just as I’m thinking it. Maya is always teaching us words from other languages, but I don’t think we’ve heard this one yet.
“It’s like feeling so much anticipation that you just can’t contain it, but specifically when you’re waiting for someone. Someone you can’t wait to see. It’s Inuit.”
“I didn’t realize you spoke the native language of Alaska.”
She smacks my arm. “Word nerd, remember?”
“How could I forget? I’m making gnocchi for dinner, just so you can tell me that I gave you the abbiocco .”
Her eyes light up and she sighs dramatically, falling back in her seat. “I can’t wait to feel an intense abbiocco in your bed. Wrap me in flannel and wake me up when it’s spring.”
I laugh. “How about I wake you up in two weeks? Can’t miss your birthday.”
“Oh,” she perks up. “And Galentine’s Day. I definitely wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“Yeah, about that,” I say. “Ellie brought Poppy an actual invitation. It said she was ‘cordially invited to Galentine’s Day brunch, food prepared by Chef Liam Harley.’ Care to explain?”
“I might have offered your services. And I’m formally requesting a crepe cake, if you can be persuaded.” She bats her eyelashes, like she has to do anything to persuade me to feed her.
“It’s a tea party, Daddy,” Poppy adds from the backseat. Ellie was over last week telling her all about this special holiday. I wasn’t sure if my daughter was more excited about the party itself or the fact that she knew Maya would be back for it.
“Pretty please,” Maya chirps beside me. She wraps her hands around my biceps and rests her chin on my shoulder. “We will be oh so grateful.”
I turn to the side, slip a quick kiss to her forehead. “Anything for my girls.”
“You did it. I officially have the abbiocco ,” Maya says, curling up in my bed. Our bed. For now, at least. “I can’t believe you used vanilla in that brown butter sauce. It was so good I almost want to ask for more.”
“I just braised the pods. It’s not like I added any extract.”
“If you think I have any idea what those words mean, you have way too much faith in me. Just promise you’ll make it again one day.”
I slip into the bed beside her. “Deal.”
It’s a weird feeling, having her here. She’s been gone for a month, and yet it feels completely natural to be curled up together. It felt natural to do the dishes together, walk the dog together, put Poppy to bed together. Everything with Maya just works .
“Mmmm,” she sighs, wrapping an arm over my chest. “You’re so warm. I think I was cold that entire trip.”
“Sounds like a good reason to stay here then.”
“Agreed.” She yawns. “Would you hate me if?—”
“I have no expectations, Maya. I’m just happy you’re here.”
“Oh, thank god. That meal was not conducive to welcome home sex. It’s your fault, really.”
“I’ll take the blame. Tomorrow, I’ll make nothing but chicken and vegetables.”
The sound of her laughter vibrates around me and I pull her in closer.
“Thanks for picking me up at the airport. That was really nice.”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll always pick you up.”
“It’s a big deal to me. No one’s ever done that for me. Not unless I was paying them.”
Over the last week, Maya’s opened up to me more about her relationship with her parents. If I’m being honest, I still don’t understand it. It’s not that they don’t get along, or even avoid each other like my family does, they just only seem to care about business.
“I mean, you could have tipped me,” I quip. But it’s hard to force the lightness into my voice. Because the more I think about Maya’s family, the more I think about Quentin’s offer. About what it could mean for my own family.
“Could I talk to you about something?” I ask.
“Of course.” She picks her head up and balances on her elbow next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Well,” I start, stretching my arms a bit. “When you were gone, I got a call from my agent. A few calls, actually.”
“You have an agent?”
“Hey, don’t act so surprised. You knew my name before we met, remember? I was agent-worthy.”
“You’re still very agent-worthy,” she purrs. “I just didn’t realize you had one. That’s all.”
“The truth is we barely talk anymore. But there was a time when I kept him busy so…anyway, he’s been working on getting a deal for a cookbook?—”
“That’s awesome! What’s the hook? Does it have a name? When can I buy one?”
“Whoa, slow down, Bloom. I barely have a recipe list together. And anyway, I thought he was calling me about the book, but he actually has a restaurant group that wants to open up a new property with me, in New York.”
Her lips part and she blinks, once, twice. For what seems like the first time ever, she doesn’t know what to say. “That’s…great. Right?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “That’s what Quentin kept saying. It’s a great opportunity, a great location, great timing, great for my brand, great great great, but…”
“You can’t decide if it’s great for Poppy.”
It’s not even a question. That’s how well she understands me.
“It could be, in theory. Again, that’s what Quentin said. Poppy’s older now, doesn’t need me around all the time. And being back in New York, in the scene, it would open up doors I closed a long time ago. Maybe another Michelin star, TV appearances, more revenue streams, all of it.”
Maya nods, chewing on her lip. Her gaze floats from my face to the bed and around the room. It looks like she’s trying to solve this dilemma through some complex mathematical equation.
“If you need more money?—”
“Don’t you dare.” Maya’s lips part like she wants to reason with me. “I do not need money. Sure, it’d be nice to make more, but…just believe me when I tell you that I’m fine.” Another reminder that Maya still has no recollection about me sharing who my sister is. One of these days, I’ll have to tell her again. Not that Kennedy supports me or anything, but she made sure I’ll never have an issue taking care of Poppy, no matter how insane the medical bills might be.
“Okay,” she says, holding out her hands to gesture she’ll leave it alone. “Well, would it make you happy to have another restaurant? To be back in that world?”
It’s funny, of all the time I’ve spent mulling over every word Quentin said, not once have I really thought about it this way. It would make me more money. It would give me new opportunities. But would it make me happier?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “When I was younger, I was so focused on being a success. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but the awards and the notoriety were these constant north stars that I felt like I had to achieve to prove to…well, probably to prove to my parents that I wasn’t a fuck-up. But now, I don’t know if I actually care about those things anymore. Maybe I never did.”
What makes me happy now is making the best milkshake anyone in the diner has ever tasted, or spending a day with Poppy while she learns to ride a horse, sleeping in with Maya, and planning the menu for the next best meal of her life.
“You have nothing to prove, Liam. You are incredible. Chef, father, man , all of it. Screw your parents. Parents suck.”
The way she says this makes me chuckle. It also makes me realize how much happier I’ve been not trying to prove myself. I love the life I’ve built here and I don’t know if I could replicate it back in the city. But…
“I also thought going back to New York might be good for you, for…us,” I whisper, desperate to know how she feels about it.
Her eyes flash back to mine. “You thought I’d want you to move back there?”
“I thought it might make it easier for you to see a future with me.”
“Liam.” She presses against my chest and rolls on top of me, sitting up to straddle my hips. “If you want to win awards and become the world’s sexiest celebrity chef, by all means, I will not stop you. And you’ll be a great dad either way, because you want to be one. Because you care .” She leans down and presses her lips to mine. “I really hope you believe that. You’re amazing exactly as you are.”
“And you?” I ask.
“Me? Well, I just turned down a job myself.” She giggles like it’s nothing, but I’m hanging on her every word. “My dad offered me the whole Europe office. I said I didn’t want any position that couldn’t keep me based here. So it looks like you’ll be stuck with me either way.”
What? She just breezed through that like she gets job offers every day. Hell, maybe she does. He offered her the entire Europe office? I don’t even understand what that means. But she also said…
“Did you do that for me?” I’m not exactly sure what answer I want. Maya shouldn’t have to give up anything to be with me, yet I’m also kind of desperate to hear that she did.
But she shakes her head. “I did it—” She takes a deep breath and readjusts herself on top of me. My hands stay glued to her thighs. “What do you want, Liam? From me, I mean.”
“What do I want from you? Nothing. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she says. “We all want something from each other. For instance, something I want from you is delicious brownies. Or orgasms. Or your warm body at night when I’m cold.” I laugh but she looks perfectly composed. “So what do you want from me?”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure her out. I know she’s been lied to, been taken advantage of. There’s a lot I still don’t know, but between everything Maya has already told me, and Ellie’s murderous rampage in my car, it’s obvious that Maya’s hesitant about falling into a new relationship for good reason.
But she shouldn’t be hesitant with me.
“I want,” I pause, squeezing her legs. “I want to give you delicious brownies. And orgasms.” I couldn’t be more honest if I tried.
“Come on,” she whines. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” I slide my hands up and around to her back, gripping her waist. “Look at me. I want a lot of things, Maya, but I don’t want anything from you. I want things for you. I want you to smile so big that your eyes are practically shut, every single day. I want you to moan and sigh with each bite of a meal because it’s just that good. I want you to have the kind of home and family that you’ve always dreamed of. And I want to be the one to give you those things.”
“Liam,” she exhales, her voice cracking.
“And orgasms. Don’t forget the orgasms.”
This time she laughs, swats at my chest.
“I’m serious, Maya, about all of it.”
“Me too,” she says thoughtfully. “I didn’t turn down the job for you. I did it for me.” She leans down again and straightens her legs until she’s lying flat on top of me. “I’m sorry it’s taken a while for me to figure this out, but I’m sure now. This is exactly where I want to be.”
And somehow that answer is even more satisfying than anything I dreamt up in my head.