Chapter 13

Jason

Dinner service goes about as well as can be expected when the sous chef is ruminating on something.

Me. I know she’s ruminating on me.

Journey is mostly silent other than communicating about the food and techniques and the plating.

Still, I can’t help but notice she gets much more animated with everyone else.

It’s now the tail end of service, and the expeditor is pushing dessert plates out the door. Overall, everyone works well here.

As things slow down, Journey takes a break before cleaning her station and heads to the ladies’ room.

Cash takes this opportunity to come over and check on me.

“So?”

“She’s not gonna quit. Said she’d give it a week. Rushmore liked his meal, I heard.”

Eyeing me skeptically, Cash asks, “Why did you want to get back on service? At all our other restaurants, we hire executive chefs. Why’d you put on the jacket for this one?”

No point in lying to my best friend. “Because I wanted to work with Journey.”

“You said before you just didn’t want her working for Richard.”

“That’s true. And I wanted to be with her in the kitchen.”

“Why? You hooked up with her once,” Cash asks, trying to keep his voice low while his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

“Oh, that’s easy. Because I love her, she’s mine, and I want to spend every waking moment with her.”

Cash nods, his jaw ticking while I wipe down the Viking stove. “We spent several million dollars because you’re instantly obsessed with a woman.”

I toss my rag into the basket of other dirty ones, then turn to Cash, ready to have this fight. “Tell me, friend. How quickly did you decide to up and move to Michigan to open a restaurant after meeting Caroline?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he says. “My parents still live up there, and they’re not in the best health.”

“But Caroline was the kicker, wasn’t she? We sold off a bunch of stores so you could have the flexibility to relocate and stay in business with me, as well as buy a place up there. When you told me this was all about a woman, I said fine.”

People are watching us, but I don’t care.

“You’re right. That did happen,” Cash says, looking down at the floor, nudging at something with his foot.

“So don’t worry. Sometimes we make rash decisions, but it all works out.”

He nods, and then his demeanor changes in a way that tells me Journey is standing right behind me.

“I don’t want it to be a secret,” she says.

Slowly, I turn to face her as if I’ve just been told by the cops to put my hands up.

The other kitchen staff watches us, clearly having heard what she said. And maybe they overheard the entire conversation I had with Cash, and knew it was about Journey.

There’s no other place as full of gossip as a restaurant kitchen.

Just to make sure we’re on the same page, I have to ask, “What don’t you want to be a secret?”

She nods solemnly. “That you and I are together.”

Every shattered piece of me begins to knit back together in that moment.

“Fine,” I say, blowing out a breath.

I cup my hands over my mouth. “Announcement, everyone! Journey and I are dating! If anyone has a problem with that, please fill out a formal complaint and file it with Cash.”

Cash mutters, “Don’t tell them to do that.”

Most of the kitchen staff laughs or shrugs, then gets back to work.

“See? No big deal,” I tell her. “I guarantee everyone in this room is sleeping or has slept with someone else in this room.”

Lola, the line cook, sweeps by and chirps, “It’s true!”

“On top of that, there’s no one in this room who hasn’t done even crazier, more problematic things for love,” I say.

Jorge, the pastry chef, looks up from his piping station and says, “I proposed to my wife while she was dating my boss.”

“My ex literally kidnapped me for ransom because he thought my parents, who owned the Greek diner I worked at, were rich. Turns out he was very wrong, but I dated him anyway ’cause he was cute,” says one of the servers, Lucy.

“I blew up the last sous chef’s car after he cheated on me. And then I ended up marrying my parole officer after I got out of jail,” Lola says.

“Wait, you did?” Journey asks.

“No, that was two sous chefs ago,” Lucy reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” Lola says, scratching her head.

Everyone nods in a blasé “been there, done that” kind of way.

I turn back to Journey. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, shortcake.”

The nickname snatches her attention back to me.

Several staff members do catcalls and shout, “Shortcake!”

Journey is beet red and hisses at me. “Now look what you’ve done!”

I wrap her up in a hug and kiss the top of her head.

“Let’s get you home.”

She leans back, looking up into my eyes with a hurt expression. “I told you I would give it a week! I’m not ready to go back to Iowa.”

“I didn’t say home to Iowa…oh no, you poor thing, I meant your new home.”

“Oh my god. Tell me you didn’t buy me a house.”

“I didn’t buy you a house. You’re moving in with me because, based on that horrible motel you picked, I don’t trust you to find yourself an apartment.”

“I have enough saved to find a decent place,” she starts.

“Girl, if Jason Riggins offers to move you in, you do it,” Lola offers.

It’s decided then.