Chapter 14
Spencer
G rabbing the bottom of my apron, I dab at the droplets beading on my forehead. Sweat is not an ideal garnish for this strawberry shortcake cream puff dessert I’m assembling.
I release a shaky breath. It’s almost over. Just dessert left.
For the past few hours, I feel like I’ve been reenacting a scene right out of Mrs. Doubtfire , hiding in the kitchen, and toggling between waitress and secret behind-the-scenes chef.
I have to keep my apron on in the kitchen so I don’t get my clothes too messy.
I know Nathan isn’t buying this. His skeptical scowl is permanently glued to his face every time I set a new plate in front of them.
But it doesn’t matter because Shaylin is eating this whole ruse up.
That’s the point of tonight. If the dinner goes well, and she agrees to sign whatever deal Brickstone wants her to, this night was a success, and Nathan will have no reason to reprimand me.
Outside of the nervous anxiety, it’s been fun to cook in a professional kitchen. I don’t accidentally hip-check the counter every time I turn around which is already a major step up from my tiny apartment kitchen.
Most of what I made tonight was prepped at home.
The hummingbird pie was my mom’s recipe.
The final touch was using small, heart-shaped cookie cutters to shape pieces from the center.
It was such a waste of pie, but after a drizzle of caramel and dusting of confectioner’s sugar, it looked like a bougie move a fancy restaurant would pull.
Let’s sacrifice a whole pie for two center-cut, palm-sized pieces.
Little do they know, the salad was from a bag, but I made the dressing fresh at least—a zesty lime vinaigrette that I googled.
The filet mignon was also a little overcooked.
I was going for medium-rare, but we got medium-well after they spent too much time in a butter bath.
There’s a good chance I’m my own worst critic, because there were zero complaints from the table.
I actually watched in shock as Shaylin immediately cut a long piece of steak, the size of her whole thumb, and inhaled it like a barbarian.
Good for her. It’s refreshing when women actually eat on dates.
Dates. Ugh. It was supposed to be a business meeting, but let’s call this what it is.
Nathan’s probably swooning over the slender, long-legged, blonde beauty that makes my annual salary in the blink of an eye.
They’re definitely going home together tonight, and I’m trying really hard not to think about it.
I’m trying to think about the good parts of this evening, like when Nathan actually cracked a smile after biting into my Cuban egg rolls.
Those I will accept zero criticism on. They are my own personal twist on our beloved Cubanos.
I slow-roasted the marinated pork shoulder all morning.
I used Lumpia wrappers for extra crunchiness.
While the spicy, dijon-honey glaze is a step away from authenticity, it balances perfectly.
At least, that’s what Mom used to tell me.
These were her favorite. Even after she started chemo and her appetite vanished, she never said no to my Cuban egg rolls.
Ready to bring this entire evening over the finish line, I plate the strawberry cream puffs, and place a few halved strawberries on the side of the treat.
Fighting the urge to drizzle, I dot the inside of the white porcelain dessert plate with homemade strawberry glaze.
It looks fancier this way, and I’m pretending to be an award-winning chef back here.
A tiny sliver of almond on each puff, then a light dust of confectioner’s sugar, and…
“Done,” I exclaim out loud like I’m a contestant on Final Cut finishing my dish in the nick of time.
With a plate in each hand, I eagerly make my way through the double doors into the dining room.
I did it. I actually fucking pulled this off.
There’s a bouncy pep in my step until I turn the corner of the dim-lighted restaurant to see Nathan’s arm around Shaylin.
They’re no longer sitting across from each other.
She’s scooted her chair to him and is wearing his navy suit jacket over her bare arms. He’s rubbing her shoulder affectionately.
The moment he sees me, he drops his arm and shifts his gaze down as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.
My stomach sinks, swallowed up by a black hole of utter disappointment. Stop it, Spencer. You knew. This isn’t a surprise. I try to disappear as I approach the table. I slide their dessert plates in front of them silently and attempt to leave quickly.
“Why are you wearing an apron?” Nathan asks.
I look down and see the evidence of my slipup. Fuck. I forgot to take it off. “Dishes,” I say quickly. “I was helping Tansy clean up.”
He could easily pick apart my lie. There’s stains on the clean white apron, colors from every single course. But instead, Nathan shows mercy. “I see.”
“Hope you enjoy,” I force out and spin around to leave.
“Wait!” When I turn back around, Shaylin’s smile is so innocent. She has no idea she’s hurting me right now. It’s not on purpose. She has every right to go after a man like Nathan. Anyways, she can have him. I hate him. So. Damn. Much. “What is this? It’s so cute I don’t even want to eat it.”
I’m exhausted. I just want to run to the kitchen, make a blanket fort, and fall asleep reading a good book with a bright flashlight. Adulting is too much sometimes. I miss being a kid.
“It’s Tansy’s take on a strawberry shortcake. Instead of a biscuit, it’s an almond-liquor-infused cream puff with a whipped strawberry cheesecake filling. The glaze is a citrus-strawberry reduction.”
Shaylin grabs the dessert with two fingers and takes a messy bite, cream spilling out of the casing of the pastry crust and smearing on her lips. “Mmmm,” she moans. “Can I order about fifty more of these?” she asks, after swallowing. “It’s seriously insane. Nathan, try this.”
I die inside when she holds the second bite of her treat to his lips. He hesitates, but eventually his lips part and she shoves the pastry into his mouth. I’ve never seen a human chew slower. A sloth, sure. It feels as if Nathan is trying to drag out the torture he’s not aware he’s inducing.
“That’s really good,” he finally says. Something changes in his eyes. There’s a sweet sincerity I haven’t seen since the first night we met—just a quick flash of Nate. “Would you tell the chef she’s incredible, and I’m very impressed. Good job.”
I raise one eyebrow. “You want me to tell Tansy Haleen, ‘ good job ’?”
For a moment, nothing exists except us two. The romantic, dim-lit restaurant melts away. Shaylin dissolves into the abyss. It’s only me, Nathan, and all our lies.
“Well, what should I say?”
“Just…thank you.”
He nods in understanding. “Thank you, Spencer.”
It’s so obvious I’m caught, but who cares. Tonight wasn’t about winning per se. It was about not giving up and not allowing any man to underestimate me.
“I’ll let her know.” With that, I turn on my heel and dash away before I’m trapped by further conversation.
My instructions were clear. I could use Tansy’s kitchen, but I better leave it in the exact pristine condition in which it was handed over.
I’m scrubbing a roasting pan so hard, it’s past shining, and in dangerous territory of me scrubbing the metal coating right off.
It’s been about twenty minutes since I’ve been out there.
Either they are lip-locked, or they’re gone. I sincerely hope it’s the latter.
If they left, I missed my opportunity. I should’ve gotten an autograph for Charlie.
Damn my pride. She would’ve lost her mind.
Thankfully, Charlie is at her sleepover at Claire’s.
If I would’ve had to bring her tonight, Shaylin and Nathan wouldn’t have gotten a word in.
Charlie would’ve crawled up in Shaylin’s lap like a stray puppy begging for a new home.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t get the autograph.
She took my guy. I don’t want her taking my sister too.
“Ugh,” I grumble out loud. Stupid, intrusive thoughts. He’s not my guy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shit!” I squeal, the soapy sponge flying out of my hands, leaving a splash of bubbles all over the counter I just wiped down. “Dammit, Nathan. I told you not to come back here.”
Advancing toward me, he is not remotely dissuaded by my command. “Call me Nate.”
“Okay. I told you not to come back here, Nate .”
He’s looking at me like an adorably huffy toddler. “Let me guess, Tansy had to run out?”
I glare at him through narrowed eyes. “Great guess. She had to excuse herself to go take her pain medication.”
“Right. We wouldn’t want her ears to start hurting.” He flicks his earlobe coyly.
“What the hell do you want?” I’m not even going to try to hide my bitterness. It’s too much effort. Ah. Let the lava of my rage flow free.
“You never brought the bill.” To my surprise, he loosens his tie, then unknots it and lets it lazily hang free around his collar. Next, he frees two buttons on his light gray dress shirt. I don’t think he’s hypnotizing me on purpose…
But he is.
“There’s no working register. She’ll just send an invoice to the office.”
“Makes sense.”
He swaggers over to the other side of the counter where my Tupperware is neatly stacked.
I couldn’t tell by his perfect dictation, but the way he’s walking gives him away.
Long, lazy strides, like he’s moving but has nowhere to be.
He’s tipsy. The restaurant bar is already stocked.
I wonder if he helped himself. I make a mental note to tell Dex to tell Tansy she may need her restaurant to bill us for what I’m assuming was a very expensive bottle of liquor.
While Nathan isn’t ostentatious with his money, he also doesn’t strike me as a hooch kind of guy.