Chapter 34
thirty-four
ELLIE
I’ve already written halfway through the journal I picked up not that long ago, thought after thought pouring onto the pages.
It’s amazing, really, the way our body goes through stress and anxiety. If I look back through the pages, I can see when I had anxiety, when I felt helpless. My penmanship isn’t clean or legible. It’s fast and sharp, like if someone were rushing to sign documents.
Most of the pages with the desperate handwriting are about work and Charlie. The pages with soft, smooth writing are about my family, friends, and Rowan.
I came across a page I’d written after having my breakdown in front of the girls on emergency movie night. Anxiety was pumping through me the entire night after they left. Some of the lines are shaky or scratched deep into the paper to the point where you can see an indent on the other side. I’ve never felt this much pressure in my life. Not even during culinary school.
I hear a knock on the guest house door and turn from the kitchen table chair to see August peeking his head in.
He gives me a cheesy smile. “Can I come in?”
“Like you even need to ask.” I turn my attention back to my journal, finishing the entry for the day and then closing it.
August walks to the cabinets in the kitchen and grabs himself a glass, then opens the fridge, scanning his options.
“How’s your day going?” he asks and then pulls out a jug of sweet tea.
I relax more into the chair, grabbing my hair to wrap it in a ponytail and out of my face. “My day has consisted of cleaning, going to the farmers market, and journaling. I dropped off the desserts for Mrs. Anderson's show.”
“Oh shit, how did that go? I didn’t know that was today.”
“It was fine. I got there an hour before it started. I’ve never seen someone that excited over something as simple as chocolate and peanut butter.”
August tilts his head and deadpans. “That’s because the favor came from someone who genuinely enjoys what you make. You remember how she always had her daughter buy a box full of pastries when you ran the bake sale? Answer me this: how did it feel to see her react that way?”
I tap my finger on the table and think back to her expression. It was full of light and joy. Such genuine happiness that it made my heart feel full. I didn’t stay to see what she thought about them. But after I left, I felt…happy and calm. I felt like I accomplished something that didn’t give me anxiety. I felt grateful for agreeing to do it when I dropped it off and witnessed the smile on Mrs. Anderson’s face. I smile to myself thinking about it again.
“You don’t even need to answer me when you have that look on your face.” August pulls me from my thoughts. “Admit it, Ellie, you felt great. You probably even felt amazing. Don’t you miss that feeling?”
I look up at him from the table. “Of course I miss that.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and then bring my focus back to my brother. “I don’t know August. You know I can’t just leave New York and everything I’ve worked so hard on.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that you should really give this all some thought. Okay? At least promise me that.”
“I will. I promise.” I give him a smile and quickly change the subject. “Now, enough about me. What are you doing today?”
“I have a date tonight.” He smiles brightly.
I wiggle my eyebrows with a knowing grin. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Someone Beau knows. He thought I’d have a fun time.” He shrugs.
I grimace. “Wait, are you getting his sloppy seconds?”
August makes an equally horrified look. “God, no. They’re just friends. And they aren’t each other's types.”
“Is this date a serious one or more of a casual thing?”
“I’m not going into it looking for a relationship. Just something casual.”
A sly smile plays across my lips.
“What?” he asks.
“Are you trying to make someone jealous?”
He pinches his brows and jerks his head back. “Why in the world would I try to make someone jealous?” He crosses his arms.
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“I’m not playing shit.”
I raise my hands with a smile. “Whatever you say.”
“Shut up.”
I laugh, watching him put freshly washed green grapes in a bowl and sit across from me. He picks a grape off its stem and looks at me.
“So.” August throws a grape into his mouth before saying, “Heard about the date you had with Rowan.”
“Everyone keeps saying this was a date. It wasn’t a date. It was two friends going out to eat.” I raise my brows.
“Yeah, sure.” He pops another grape into his mouth. “Have you talked to him since then?”
“Yeah, we’ve been texting, but I haven’t seen him in person. It feels awkward, which sucks because I miss him. I want to hang out with him.”
“I think he’s mad at himself. He said he was going to come talk to you in person.”
“He hasn’t said anything about coming to talk to me. When did he tell you this?”
“Yesterday. When he does talk to you, are you guys going to—you know—try again, or?”
“I don’t know. I’m still figuring out things with work. I spoke with my boss the other day. They were checking in, and I told them that I was looking forward to coming back to work. I haven’t given them an answer on what we spoke about before I left for vacation.”
“What are you talking about?” August arches a brow.
I fiddle with my fingers before answering. “They want me to be the head pastry chef. Executive pastry chef.”
August chokes on a grape, coughing before he looks at me. “What? Why didn’t you tell any of us? That’s a big deal, El.”
“I don’t know!” I exclaim, raising my hands. “So much shit was happening at once. I couldn’t process it.”
“You need to tell mom and dad.”
“I know, August,” I say, exasperated.
“Right now,” he pressed, his eyebrows raising.
“What? I’m not telling them right now.”
August rises from his chair. “If you don’t tell them, I will.”
I stand up. “It’s not your business to tell them.”
“Ellie.” He walks over to me, and I peer up at him. “This is very big news. This can change a lot for you. Maybe it will be positive, maybe it will be negative, I don’t know. But what I do know is you came home partly because of work. If you were in a different position, it would be an easy answer. You know it’s not. Not anymore.”
I slump my shoulders. I know he’s right. I know that it’s not an easy choice to make. Maybe it would have been a few years ago when I was in a better space mentally. Then again, it’s an opportunity I may not have again.
August puts his hands on my shoulders. “Ellie, you need to tell Mom and Dad. The sooner, the better. Please.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. I would do anything for my brother, as he would for me.
Am I willing to put myself through more stress just to take another step in the culinary industry? Will my becoming an executive change things for me and I get back to who I used to be?
I’m scared to find out.