Epilogue

Journey

One year later

“Oh Lord, give me strength for the lovebirds.”

I beam at the bus driver and wiggle my fingers in front of his face. “Hey Larry.”

“Get that thing out of here; what are you trying to do, blind me?”

I give him my best phony pout as I retract my hand, weighed down by my cushion-cut diamond engagement ring.

“Not even a congratulations for me, Larry?” Jason asks the bus driver, his hand resting protectively on my lower back.

Larry stares at Jason and gives a flat “Congratulations.” He looks at me and says, “Good luck with that one. Now sit down so we can get going.”

Out of pure pettiness, Jason lingers, planting a kiss on my lips. Larry rolls his eyes. The passengers erupt in whistles and claps.

We sit across from Lola and her husband, who waves hello. To their left are Jorge, Lucy, the bartenders Jack and Tim, the rest of the gang from Rubicon, and Cash and Caroline.

Everyone is all dressed up for an all-night engagement party. As for me, I’m in my favorite navy cocktail dress with the deep vee neckline and swishy skirt.

“Turn on the party lights, Larry, and turn the music up,” someone shouts.

Larry grumbles, but he does it, and soon the booze is flowing, and people are dancing.

Tonight’s plan is to celebrate our engagement and Rubicon’s first Michelin star under my leadership as executive chef, but I feel it’s much more than that.

Jason was finally convinced to resume his role as overseeing all the executive chefs in the company, but he still spends a great deal of his workday next to me, getting ideas and letting me get creative in the kitchen.

Tonight is also about everyone here. Not just about me or even about Jason. A dozen people on this bus could do what I’ve done, or even what Jason has accomplished.

I hope I can support them in the way they supported me.

Jason holds me close as we dance among all our friends, and we laugh as the bus lurches over potholes, making me bump into the stripper pole and nearly tumble over.

But Jason’s got me.

“Careful, Larry!”

“I’m fine, Chef.”

Jason’s heated gaze communicates everything.

“Don’t even start,” I say, close to his ear so he can hear over the thumping music. “We have a whole bar crawl to get through, and then there’s the after-party. We can’t ditch these people because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

My future husband licks his lips. “What am I supposed to do with myself in the meantime?”

I blink up at him.

“No,” he says. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare.”

I say it anyway. “Enjoy the journey!”

Jason groans.

“You just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“Nope.”

He flattens his hands over my stomach and heaves a contented sigh in my ear. “I love you, shortcake.”

“I love you too, Chef.”

THE END

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