Chapter 14 #2
Zeke shakes his head. “I’m not part of the team yet, but Slick Vic told me they’re trying to juggle the increase in demands for DJs, so I’m hoping they like what I bring to Black Sheep.”
“They will,” I say, confident in his skills. Zeke’s been good with music since we were kids. He’s also been good at reading straight through me.
“Enough of that. What’s up with you, bro? You seem heavy. Olivia on the brain?”
“Not in the way you think, Z,” I say.
Then I tell him that two years ago I mentioned to my mom that we should brainstorm ideas for our own special night at the restaurant.
She shot me down, arguing that profit margins were fine and that Celia’s Place would do as well as it’s always done long term.
I got her to compromise on the major renovation to the front-of-house so that we could at least bring in more customers, but she was salty for so long about losing those ugly chickpea-colored walls.
Then a week after we found out her breast cancer returned, she turned to me in the kitchen and said, “Let’s do your idea. What is it?”
I asked if she was joking. She wasn’t. She truly wanted to add something else to her plate and mine when she was sick again and we had to focus our extra energy on making sure she got the proper care team and whatever it took to fight the cancer.
I told her she just felt guilty for shooting me down and now that she thought she was dying, she wanted to add it to a bucket list.
She told me I was just scared that she really was dying and I’d be on my own.
I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so we never did, but I should’ve known she hadn’t given up.
My mom was the persistent type; the proof is in the fact that she was talking to Olivia for nearly a decade and I had no idea.
Then last night by the fridge when Olivia told me about the timing of their last email exchange, there was a tingle in the back of my brain.
Celia Rodriguez decided to email my ex-girlfriend to brainstorm ideas behind my back, and I’m pretty positive the only reason she didn’t follow through with it was because she quickly realized she didn’t want to put any more pressure on me.
Her cancer was aggressive. She tried to work, but between treatments and rest, she barely could, and she’d worry out loud about me when I’d sit in the chair beside her bed after long days in the restaurant.
Zeke passes Teddy another napkin because my boy got chocolate syrup on his shirt, then shoots me a serious look.
“Did you ask me to come for ice cream knowing I’m lactose intolerant but can’t resist because you want to talk about your mom keeping this pen pal thing with Olivia from you?
” he asks. “Or because you want to get your head out of your ass and finally honor her wishes that were your idea in the first place?”
“The latter,” I tell him. Not wanting to give any attention to the sting of betrayal I first felt when Olivia told me they’d been emailing all these years and instead focus on the important part of the revelation: Olivia came here thinking my mom had unfinished business that she could help with.
“Now that things are a little steadier again at Celia’s Place, I think it’s right to think about how it’s going to do long term.
Look at this damn ice cream shop playing Drake to attract people who want to chill here.
If I don’t keep up with the changing culture in Providence, Celia’s Place might not survive.
But without my mom here for it…I don’t know, Zeke. ”
“You don’t know what?”
“The thought of interacting with more people on a social night makes me want to crawl under a rock. That would have been her thing,” I say.
A decade after Celia Rodriguez opened Celia’s Place, it became an integral part of the Providence community.
People come for birthdays, we cater weddings and baby showers, my mom was asked to be a godparent to a customer’s child.
The priest who baptized me still comes in for lunch.
She might’ve given me the talent, but I’d be a liar if I said I want to hug customers and laugh with them instead of taking my breaks to sit in silence.
But the food can only speak for itself if people are actually coming to the restaurant to eat it.
Right now, that’s not a problem, but earlier a voice in my brain insisted that the saliva-sharing couple were eating at a cool new spot instead of my restaurant.
“If you want change, you might have to be uncomfortable for a while,” Zeke says.
“I know.” I frown. “Got any ideas?”
“I’d say you can have me in there spinning a set every week,” he says, “turn it into a party spot after hours, but your mom’s flip-flop would descend from the sky and slap you good.”
“Her flip-flop would have enough wingspan to slap us both,” I say, and even Teddy laughs.
Neither of us needs confirmation to know that she wouldn’t have wanted that type of vibe at the restaurant. I’m sure it wouldn’t have even been on the table if we had brainstormed.
“My sister told me she caught up with Olivia the other day,” Zeke says.
“That girl’s well traveled inside restaurants and outside of them.
She used to cook fancy dinners for rich people and shit.
Imagine the vibes she’s had to create? Ambience and all that.
Bet that’s why your mom specifically went to her to ask for advice. ”
“Yeah,” I say. “I thought the same thing.”
“So why the hell are you over here asking for my advice?”
“She replaced the fridge in the back room today, Zeke,” I say.
“That thing from the eighteenth century? It’s about time. Didn’t the handle fall off last month?”
“I fixed it.”
“With duct tape?” Zeke wrinkles his nose. “This is why I’m not gonna brainstorm with you. You hate change. I’m surprised you even want a social night. And you sound ungrateful too. Shit, if Olivia has money from being a fancy private chef and wants to replace appliances, that is not your problem.”
I think of the emergency fund for the restaurant that my mom had been saving for years and refused to touch and how hard it’s been for me to touch it either.
Even for appliances that clearly need to be replaced.
“I appreciate that she bought the fridge, and I won’t deny it’s going to be nice not to clean up that mess every day, but it will be a problem if she keeps investing in the restaurant like she’s cementing a spot there. ”
Zeke leans closer with his elbows on the picnic table. “You scared she’ll never leave?”
“Oh, she’ll definitely leave,” I say to Zeke right before Teddy’s spoon drops and I hand him the extra one I had because I knew that would happen.
“But that doesn’t mean she won’t randomly pop back in when she feels like it.
If I ask for her opinion on how to make sure the restaurant thrives, she may never sign it over to me. ”
Zeke picks up the dirty plastic spoon from the ground and taps the table with it, tilting his head.
“It’s all making sense now. You know, I’ve wondered if you’re stuck on Teddy’s momma.
But maybe it never worked with Daniela, just like it never works for your picky ass with the women you’ve been trying to date, because none of them are Olivia. ”
“I’m not picky,” I say. “You’ve heard about my dates, Z.”
“They’ve been bad, and this last girl definitely has issues with boundaries, but I still think you’re picky. And that’s fine because fate probably just brought back…your other half.”
He says the last part in a sickly sweet mocking voice, and I’m damn near ready to take my son and go.
His words make me remember a time when I couldn’t imagine my life without Olivia and there wasn’t a woman alive who could compare.
Because she really did feel like my other half.
Where she was a night owl, I loved the mornings.
Where she was social, I liked my quiet. And that wasn’t a bad thing because we balanced each other out.
I craved her connection in ways I can’t explain.
But we were kids then, and I was a fool in love.
It’s been ten years, she’s still her, and I’m still me.
If I hate change, she loves it. If I want to try to fix something and make it last, she’s comfortable with throwing it away and trying something new.
Now I know for sure we’re too different for anything that’ll last. And that’s not even considering the way she left me.
“You’re bugging,” I say. “And isn’t Olivia married, anyway?”
“If this is your slick way of asking if Vero told me about Olivia’s love life, she didn’t,” Zeke says.
“But I think it’s common sense that whatever Olivia had going on before isn’t going on anymore.
Assuming she’s not a liar, don’t you think her husband would be worried about her spending so much time with her ex-boyfriend?
Because if my wife was in this weird-ass situation, I’d be sitting in a booth at the restaurant every day until she figured it out. ”
“Not everyone’s like you, Zeke.”
“And that’s a shame,” he says with a smile. “But come on, bro. I know you’ve thought this same thing too. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
My cousin gives Teddy another napkin. The mess is getting out of control. There are rainbow sprinkles in his curly hair and he’s still trying to finish the ice cream.
“She doesn’t wear a ring, but no one does in the kitchen,” I say, scratching my eyebrow and trying to remember if she had one on when she came to meet me that first day.
Except I’m distracted when a feeling shoots up my spine thinking of our hands touching on top of the towels yesterday.
I blow out a breath. “And maybe I’ve thought something like it, yeah.
She hasn’t mentioned a husband once, but this is about the restaurant.
Let’s stop twisting it into something else. ”
Zeke raises both hands in the air. “If that’s true and you’re not just scared to have your little heart broken again, then consider what I’m saying.
There’s a scenario in which she’s still married.
That means she probably wouldn’t be able to pop back in all the time.
But regardless, it shouldn’t hurt you to ask her for advice.
You know she’ll leave. Vero knows it too.
Olivia’s not going to keep your restaurant hostage and shackle herself.
Don’t even tell her the social night was originally your idea.
Let her feel like she’s helping with your mom’s unfinished business.
Give her a purpose. That’ll probably get rid of her sooner than whatever you’ve been trying.
And I think you already know this. Maybe you just needed me to say it. ”
Zeke’s right. And anyway, my plan to drive her away with bottom-of-the-barrel restaurant tasks hasn’t worked in the slightest—she’s far too eager and helpful for that.
But if she thinks she’s fulfilling my mom’s wishes…
and if anyone has an idea that’ll stand out among the things already being done in Providence, it’s probably Olivia.
When she was a teen she’d help my mom switch up the menu, rearrange seating, make sure the music was good.
And I love being a chef. I love my mom. She led me to my purpose.
I owe everything to her, and I owe it to myself to keep growing the place we both loved now that she’s gone.
An event night will cost me up front, but I do have the emergency fund and I could always put the money back once we see profit.
And if there’s any reason to work with Olivia, it’s this.
Both ideas make my chest tight, but I have to believe they’ll be worth it.
“Teddy boy,” my cousin says, “do you see that look on your dad’s face?” Teddy stares at me, a smudge of ice cream on his chin. He nods. “That’s the look of a man who’s come to his senses. Now we can go play ball at the park and stop going back and forth with him.”
I don’t tell my cousin that part of the reason I don’t want to give Olivia a reason to stay longer is because of my son.
I’m not sure how I’ll feel if I have to see them interact.
I know there’s nothing going on between me and Olivia.
There won’t be. But after Rachael being weird about Teddy today, I don’t know how I’ll react if Olivia is weird about him too.
Especially because there was a time when I thought a future with her meant we’d have kids together.