37. Michael
“I’ve told you a million times not to use this olive oil as a finishing oil.
This bottle is for cooking, and this one is the fancy shit for finishing,” I seethe, reprimanding my cooks for what feels like the millionth time.
“Again. Do it again. And you can be the one to explain to our customer why their order is late.”
I turn on my heel and stomp off into the restaurant office before throwing myself into the chair behind my desk. Head in my hands, eyes squeezed shut, I wait for the inevitable moment Lexi walks through the office door.
“What the hell was that?” Her voice is as venomous as mine was.
“What gives you the right to speak to our kitchen staff that way? I believe when you first wanted to open this place you vowed never to be like your former Chefs de Cuisine and treat people like garbage. And yet, here you are, being an absolute dick.”
“I know,” I mumble through my hands, more ashamed than words can describe. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell me that. Go tell George and the rest of the kitchen staff. The serving staff, too. You’ve been a nightmare to work with lately.”
I free my face from my hands and nod. “I know.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
I heave a sigh and sit up straight in my seat, trying to project confidence—though I’m sure everyone can tell it’s an act. Losing the love of your life will destroy your sense of worth like that.
“I’m going to do better. I promise. It’s just, the stress of the new business and gearing up for a new school year. You know, getting used to a new routine. It’s been tough. Rachel and I have been—”
Lexi holds a hand up. “Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.
Because you and I both know your shitty attitude has nothing to do with the stress of the new business or the new routine you and Rachel are trying to settle into.
Don’t try to lie to me. Or yourself.” She rolls her eyes. “You and I both know what it’s about.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, unwilling to admit to her why I’ve felt like dying most days.
Why I’ve felt like running and never coming back.
That the only thing that’s held me together is my daughter and the blessing it is to have her in my life.
That I’ve held onto her harder than before because my heart cannot stand another loss.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“I don’t think you are.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her again, this time with more insistence.
Lexi purses her lips and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’m going to need you to get up, apologize to your staff, and go home. Take a week off to decompress. Because you are not fine, cus.”
It’s safe to say I do not take Lexi’s “request” easily—my first instinct is to argue with her, tell her it isn’t true. But I can’t deny I’ve turned into someone even I can’t stand to be around. Miserable. Broken. Short-tempered. Argumentative. And what isn’t good for me, isn’t good for my daughter.
I sigh. “I’m not sure how getting away is supposed to help, if I’m honest.” My loneliness follows me everywhere, after all. “And also, I don’t exactly have the time. We just opened a restaurant, in case you forgot.”
Lexi rolls her eyes at me. “They key word there is we. Meaning, I can cover for you while you go away. That’s the whole point of having a partner—to share the load. So I say you need to get out and take a break.”
“I don’t think now’s the right time.”
“Now’s the perfect time. Rachel doesn’t officially start school until after Labor Day, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So. You have this weekend. Why don’t you guys take a trip? Bond before things get crazier. Go camping or something. At least for a night.”
“I don’t know…”
“Think about it. In the meantime, get your ass back in the kitchen and apologize.”
I blow a puff of air and get to my feet, following Lexi into the kitchen.
Camping has never exactly been my thing—least of all during a holiday weekend when every single beach and campground is packed—but, in the end, a father-daughter bonding day with Rachel sounds pretty good, even if I know it won’t fix my broken heart.
“So, what exactly do people do when they go camping?” Rachel asks, watching me as I pitch our tent.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Hike. Fish. Hunt.”
“Right. But there’s no hiking here—everything is flat, so it would be more like walking. Fishing is kinda gross. And I would never hunt.” She shivers, which makes me smile. No, she would never hunt—my daughter loves animals way too much.
“Well, we can also just hang out. Go to the beach.”
She smiles. “Okay.”
Later that night, after spending all day at the crowded beach, I wrap Rachel up in a blanket after grilling a couple of burgers in our portable grill, and teach her how to roast the perfect marshmallow (slowly, for a perfectly gooey inside and toasty outside texture).
“Did you have fun today?” I ask, opening up the conversation after a lull.
She shrugs once, not looking up from her marshmallow as it hovers carefully over the roaring fire. “Sure, it was fine.”
I know she’s partially lying, though. Because while we did enjoy the time we spent together, I know her feelings were hurt when she approached some older girls playing on the beach and they rejected her.
It shattered my heart watching it all from afar, and while I wanted to march over there to give them a serious talking to, tell them that they’re missing out on the best kid ever, I know it would’ve made matters worse for Rachel.
Still, I don’t think the topic can go unaddressed.
“So, do you want to talk about what happened at the beach with that group of girls?”
She’s quiet for a moment before answering. “No. Not really.”
“C’mon, kid. Please?” Silence. “I just want to know you’re okay.”
She shrugs again, and I begin to wonder whether I’m finally entering those dreaded pre-teen and teen years everyone has warned me about. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Am I going to have to pull teeth to get her to talk to me about the difficult things?
I think back to my teenage years and answer my own question, because if my parents had cared to ask me for a single second what was going on (which they certainly didn’t), I still wouldn’t have told them anything.
“I’m fine. Just… a little sad.”
I nod. “They weren’t nice. Your feelings are valid.”
“It isn’t just that, really. Sure, they weren’t nice. But mostly it just reminded me that—” Her eyes flash wide and she cuts herself off.
“What? Reminded you of what?”
“I… don’t want to say.”
I raise a brow expectantly.
With an overly dramatic sigh and an even more dramatic eye roll, she finally speaks: “It reminded me how much I miss Cami and Emi. And how much fun I had this summer. And those girls not letting me hang out with them… Well, it made me scared that I won’t be able to make friends this year once school starts up next week.
Last year was tough.” A sheen of tears covers her eyes, so I get up from my seat and take one next to her.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close into me and press a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’m so sorry things have been so hard on you. Just know you are an amazing kid, and I know you’re going to find your group of friends at this new school. Especially once you join the drama club.”
Rachel smiles—barely. “I know. I have a good feeling. But it still doesn’t take away the fact that I miss my friends.
I don’t even know when I’ll see Cami and Emi again.
” She looks up at me with tears and heartbreak in her eyes, and it absolutely shatters me.
“I didn’t want them to leave. The girls or Diana. ”
“I know. This whole thing has been hard on me, too,” I admit, though I probably shouldn’t out loud.
“Why did you guys break up?”
“I—” I swallow once. “We didn’t really break up. We were never really together.”
Rachel shoots me a look that is way beyond her years—a cut the bullshit look that makes her look so much like her mother, it rattles me.
As if Jessie had crossed over onto the plane of the living to give me a stern talking to for being an asshole, for letting Diana walk away from me—from us—so easily.
“C’mon, Dad.”
I sigh. “It’s complicated. They live in a completely different state, across the country, kid.
It would’ve been… It would’ve been way too much.
” I try to give her the less complicated, kid-friendly version of Diana’s motives for ending it, but it’s easier said than done.
Especially since I haven’t completely come to terms with it myself.
“Does it also have anything to do with the girls’ dad? Does Diana still love him?”
I smile, my daughter ever so perceptive. “It does have a little to do with their dad, but no, she doesn’t love him. Sometimes, when parents get divorced, things get a little messy. And Diana is currently in a very messy situation.”
She nods pensively. “I feel bad for them. Cami was really sad about everything. She used to tell me how much she missed her dad. How lucky I was to have you. I told her that when Mom died, you took me in and… I think for a minute there she got a little jealous that you chose to be with me after… everything. She mentioned that once her parents separated, she barely ever saw her dad.”
“Yeah.” I’m devastated to hear how upset Cami was. I’ve always known she was more aware of what was going on around her than she let on, but it’s still difficult to hear. “He has his own set of issues.”
“Not everyone can be as cool as you,” she says with a shy smile.
I hug her close to me again. “That’s the second time you’ve said I’m cool.”
“Ugh. Don’t get used to it.”
I chuckle.
“You’ve been sad, too. I can tell.”
I gulp, cursing myself for not having prepared to have this conversation. We’ve been skating around the girls leaving, but I knew it would come eventually.
“Yes. I… I have been upset about Diana and the girls leaving. We had a good summer together. I miss them.”
“It’s more than that, though, isn’t it? Do you love her?”
I sigh and put my head in my hands. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation. Aren’t you a little young for this?”
“For discussions about love?” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably? But I just want to understand. Because even before we sort of found out that you and Diana liked each other like that, the three of us could kind of tell you liked each other. You smiled a lot around her.”
I chuckle. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I sigh wistfully. “I don’t know. I guess, yes. I love her. But you’ll realize when you grow up that life isn’t always black and white. That things aren’t always so simple. Just because two people care about each other, doesn’t mean that they can be together.”
Rachel looks away as she seems to process my words, and it takes her a moment to respond. “I think that’s dumb.”
I sigh again. “I don’t disagree.”