Epilogue

Olivier

"Are you nervous?" Hazel asks as we leave the metro. I want to say yes, but I know she's talking about the restaurant opening, and I'm not nervous about that.

"It's going to be great," she says, squeezing my hand.

"I know," I say with a smile, then bring her hand to my lips to plant a kiss on it. "We're ready."

I've got a fantastic sous chef, the place looks amazing, and the menu I've prepared for this week is inspiring. Needless to say, I'm pretty confident.

We arrive at our new restaurant that's nestled on a cute 6th arrondissement street. We named it Jeux de Mets which is a French pun. "Jeu de mot" means "pun" in French and "mets" means "dishes." Before entering, we stop in front of it to admire the navy-blue facade and the gorgeous flower arrangements, which are situated around the front door in standing and hanging planters. Hazel's doing, of course. She's played a huge role in the refurbishment of the space, but also in the creation of the menu. She even suggested we do a special event every week, and we've settled on four: Escargot day, Grenouille day, Crêpe day and even Kale day. But since it's the middle of October, tonight, we're showcasing the butternut gnocchi on the menu. The first dish we made together, and one of my new favorites.

We're doing a soft opening with only friends and family. Our first real service will be tomorrow. Even Ivy and her fiancé are coming. It'll be their first time in Paris, and I'm eager to finally meet them.

The dining room is not huge—sixty square meters—but it feels like home. The walls are painted in dark blue and beige, and the hardwood floors enhance the cozy at-home atmosphere we wanted to give this place. All around the room are speech bubbles with our favorite puns—in English and in French, since Hazel is getting so much better now. We even have a blackboard where people can add their own. Some of my personal favorites are "Robert Brownie Jr," "Not All Heros Wear Crêpes ," and " Cereal Killer."

When I step into my brand-new kitchen, my heart swells with pride. Finally, after all this time, I'm doing this. My dad wasn't thrilled when I left the palace, and he hasn't been very supportive, but Mom said he's coming today. I hope I'll be able to change his mind.

"Your dad will love it," Hazel says, coming up behind me to give me a hug.

"Are you a mind reader?" I ask, turning to wrap her in my arms.

"Maybe."

"Well, I hope you're right."

"I am. You'll see," she says, nuzzling her head against my chest. "Let's start getting everything ready."

With a nod, I start pulling the supplies and ingredients out. We have to be particularly organized today, since it's only the two of us. But I'm relieved that we finally found a waiter and a dishwasher who will be joining us next week .

To make it easier on us, we're serving a tasting menu today. We start preparing everything for the full house we're expecting. I'm so in the zone, I nearly forget this is such a big day for me. Not because of the restaurant's opening, but because today could change everything for me. For us.

I steal a peek at Hazel, who's in charge of making the gnocchi. She's working with such diligence and care, a surge of pride overwhelms me. Sure, this is my restaurant, but she's the fuel behind it and the reason I'm confident it'll be a franc success.

Finally, we've prepared everything that could be made in advance, and we're ready for the big moment. The tables are set, and the stress is beginning to rise.

In a flash, we transform from a quiet restaurant with only the two of us to a full house bursting with smiling and encouraging faces. We're doing a stand-up apéritif before serving the food, and everyone is enjoying Luc's champagne.

"Brother," Matt says, stepping into the restaurant with Agathe and the girls not far behind. "This looks great." He slaps the back of my head and gives me a hug. He's already been here a couple of times, and even lent a hand, but he hasn't seen the finished product yet. No one has.

As we part, I'm smiling from ear to ear " Merci ."

" Où est Hazel ? And is there a rin—"

I quickly shush him, placing a hand over his mouth to stop him. Turning around, I realize with a wave of relief that Hazel is at the other end of the room, talking fast with her sister and her fiancé, Dan.

"Wait. Don't tell me you changed your mind?" Matt says, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course not. I just haven't done it yet."

"Hey," Agathe says, shuffling closer with the girls. I receive a new round of hugs, and she congratulates me before bombarding me with questions about the restaurant and what I have planned for today.

"Great turnout too," she says, looking around.

It is, and I'm grateful for everyone who came to support Hazel and me. Many of my chef friends are here, including Gabriel and Ludo. I also invited some of my staff from Cezanne, friends from school, cousins, uncles, and a few of my mom's friends. But my mom hasn't arrived yet.

I glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Twelve-forty. My mom is never late, especially not by forty minutes .

"They're coming," Agathe says, rubbing my back. "Your mom told me so again yesterday."

"I know," I mumble. I force a smile before turning around to talk with Ludo. I know she wouldn't miss this for the world. But I also know my father and the firm position he's held against me opening my own restaurant. I'm well aware how stubborn he can be. How stubborn they both are. And in my mind, I see them arguing over it. Her pushing for him to come and him refusing to. Then, a knot forms in my stomach. What if it's not that, but something that happened on their way over here?

I grab my phone from my pocket. But as I do, the bell on the front door jingles to indicate a new arrival. I glance over, and my heart leaps when I spot my parents on the threshold, my mom practically shoving my dad inside before closing the door behind her.

I make my way to the entrance, and Hazel is already in my mother's arms when I reach them.

"You came," I state, furrowing my eyebrows as I look at my dad. I still can't believe he's actually here.

He clears his throat, unzipping his coat. "Well, your mom made me come. And I wanted to see what you could do. "

My eyebrows shoot up, and my heart rattles in my chest. "Really? I thought you disapproved."

"I do. But I have to try your food before I make a final judgment, don't I?" His voice is low and grumbled, but I hear every word loud and clear. How could I miss it? It's my dad's mantra. He's been teaching us to "try things before we hate them" our entire lives.

I nod, watching him as he strides into the dining room. He's immediately accosted by Ludo, and they start talking.

"He'll come around," Mom says, kissing me hello. "I'm proud of you, mon fils . And he'll be too."

Hazel laces her fingers with mine and gives me an encouraging look. "You'll make him proud."

I've never been so animated in the kitchen. Every crackle of food roasting in the pan, every warm aroma, every plate I garnish fuels me, and it's like there's a fire inside me I didn't know existed. A flame that's roaring with pleasure. Hazel is mostly serving today, and every time she comes back with words of praise, my heart booms in my chest, and pride overwhelms me.

"Everybody is loving it," she gushes, wrapping her arms around my waist. I turn around and pull her close, dropping a peck on her forehead, then her lips. She murmurs, "I told you we could never go wrong with crêpes for dessert."

"You were right. I donut know what I'd do without you," I say, holding her tighter.

A goofy smile lights up her beautiful lips, and I know her mind's already going a thousand miles an hour, trying to find a cute response.

But it'll have to wait. Because my dad is standing at the kitchen door, clearing his throat.

My pulse quickens, and Hazel must feel it, because she places her hand on my hammering chest for a second and gives me an encouraging look. Then, she smiles and leaves me alone with him.

My dad takes a few steps into the kitchen and looks around curiously. He opens his mouth, then closes it. I wonder if he's holding back on his criticisms or just doesn't know where to start. He ambles around the room, inspecting every inch of the kitchen, and my blood is now as cold as the ice cream I served with the crêpes.

Finally, I can't take it anymore. "What do—"

"You did good, Olivier," he says, his dark eyes now fixed on me. "You chose a good location, the kitchen is well-equipped, and the menu is well-thought out."

I pinch myself to make sure this is actually happening. "What about the food?" I ask, wringing my hands. "Did you like it?"

He pauses for a beat, and my stomach twists. I knew it was too good to be true. Then, he responds, "I did. The appetizer took me by surprise, I have to admit. It was a little bold to add the yuzu. It could have taken over."

"But it didn't," I venture, though it comes out like a question.

"No, it didn't," he says, his gaze piercing. "The gnocchi were made perfectly, and the sauce was smooth, provided in just the right amount. I also liked the play on the texture from the crushed nuts and the freshness that the parsley brought to the dish. Simple, but smart."

My eyes widen like two saucepans, and I keep pinching myself. I'm pretty sure it'll leave a nasty mark, but who cares? My dad liked my cuisine !

"I still think it's a waste not to have you working at a higher level," he grumbles, hands behind his back.

Here we go.

"And the crêpe soufflée technique could use some fine tuning, but there is potential, and I think you can be successful here. At least, that's what I hope for you."

I'm now holding onto the counter for support. "Really? I—thank you. I didn't think you'd like it, and you're right, there are a lot of things I could improve. Even the sauce. You said you liked it, but I think it's missing something. I just don't know what yet."

His mouth twists as he thinks it over. "Huh. Really? I thought it was perfect."

I press my lips together to hold back my smile, but it's too powerful and practically breaks my face in two.

My dad's face softens, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. "The crêpe soufflée technique, however . . ."

A chuckle bursts out of me. "Agreed."

"But it's nothing unfixable. Nine a.m. tomorrow. I'll help you."

"Yes, sir," I say with a nod, coming over to him with my hand outstretched. But to my utmost surprise, he pulls me into a hug.

Today was everything I ever hoped for. No, more. I never even dared to dream this big. But the pressure is still on, because the biggest moment is yet to come.

We're finishing cleaning up, and if Hazel is half as exhausted as I am, she doesn't show it. She's still beaming as she puts everything away with the same energy she had this morning.

I walk up to her, wrap my arms around her waist, and make her turn around to face me. She gasps in surprise.

"So, sous chef, did today live up to your expectations? What do you think of this new job?"

She giggles, her eyes sparkling. "It was amazing. I always knew I wanted to work with food, but I didn't know I could actually be good at it. And I was, right?"

I chuckle, drawing her even closer. "Of course you were. The best sous chef I've ever had. You're very talented. You belong in the kitchen. With me."

She kisses me softly on the lips. "That's never been clearer than today. It didn't even seem like work. "

I know the feeling. It never feels like work for me either. Not when I'm cooking my own cuisine. Cooking is a passion, and working from your passion is pretty much an endless vacation. "I need to ask you something," I say, swallowing hard as I fidget with the corner of my pocket. "It can't wait."

A frown clouds her perfect features. "Okay."

"Hazel," I say, dropping to one knee. Her eyes widen, and her mouth parts slightly. Well, at least she's not running away. So far, so good. "I've never been happier than since the moment you chased me down that street in your stilettos." Smiling, I pause to remember that night. Because that's when everything changed.

She chuckles, shaking her head lightly. I continue, "You've helped me fall back in love with cooking, and you captured my heart along the way. I could never imagine a life without you. I'm nuts about you, and I love you s'more and s'more every day," I add, fighting a face-splitting grin. I'm relieved when I see that her expression matches mine. I pull the small box from my pocket and open it in front of me. "Will you please marry me?"

Wetting her lips, she leans down and says, "Oui . My heart beets for you, Olivier. Lime all yours. "

Darn. I love this girl so much.

Laughing, I lift her up into my arms and kiss her with everything in my soul. Looks like fall is our season of love after all.