Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Griffin Lawson

I t was strange, walking these cobblestone streets again after being away for a year. Not to mention ironic. Charlie and I had ultimately broken up because he wanted the city life, and I'd wanted to stay right here in my little town a couple hours north of Seattle. Then I'd left for Europe, staying in Barcelona, Milan, and Paris, overdosing on crowds and the metropolitan hustle and bustle, whereas Charlie had moved back home to his childhood town of Nowhere, Arkansas.

I'd deleted my Facebook after seeing his announcement.

Goddamn asshole.

I'd long since stopped moping over him; I was mostly bitter about having wasted three years on that relationship. Three years of empty promises and plans that'd never come to fruition. Three years of suppressing that niggling voice at the back of my head saying this wasn't right. He wasn't right for me. I'd tried to force a connection that'd never been there. That part was my fault. It was my fault for wanting something more substantial than a two-month fling.

Additionally, it was a bit of a midlife crisis too. At forty-five, I was supposed to have things settled, and now I had to start over. Only to set myself up for more failure and nights at the bottom of a bottle?

I wasn't sure I could. I didn't know if I had the energy.

I'd vowed to myself to get back to kink. That was all. Find a play partner or two, keep things casual on the romance front, something I was already an expert at—and instead invest more time in my family. I had a niece I adored. A brother and a sister. A handful of cousins with kids. My ma still ran her sandwich shop in Seattle. Maybe that was enough.

I drew a deep breath and rounded a corner, and then I saw Coho Bar Alessia had said the area upstairs was the same size as the one down here. The food wasn't outrageously expensive either, which meant he wasn't working with a long line of cooks.

"Who's the expo?" I asked.

"Tracy's running the back of house, and I do the front," Adam answered. "All the tickets go to him first, and he drives the communication." He side-eyed me. "If I put you in an executive role, you gotta fucking be nice to him. He's come a long way."

Jesus, what the fuck. I'd never been an asshole to him. Just…maybe grumpy.

Maybe.

"You can put me on salad prep for all I care," I said. "I'm here to enjoy myself."

Adam snorted and clapped me on the back. "Only a chef who already has a star will say that. And you completely dodged my demand. Get along with Tracy, all right?"

I showed my palms in surrender. "Whatever you say, Chef." But his comment made me curious. "Are you shooting for the stars?"

His expression was funny and gave the answer away. "Fuck no! I left all that nonsense behind me in Atlanta and New York."

That was a relief. Adam may not have received a star, but he'd retained two. We'd both burned out at some point in our careers as well. It wasn't fucking worth it. I did know Coho was on Michelin's watch list, though.

I spent the next few days learning the new menu, which was made easier by Tracy's absence. He was visiting family in Georgia, though he was due to get back to work after this weekend when we launched Coho's fall menu.

I'd thought it would be tough for him to jump into things without preparations, but apparently he'd assisted Adam a great deal in setting the menu in the first place, so I guessed the golden child would be okay.

Whatever. I could deal with one coworker I didn't like. I had zero issues with the rest of the staff.

I'd even made plans to meet up with some kink buddies this weekend, following through on my promise not to live and breathe work anymore. I needed hobbies. Charlie had never been interested in BDSM, despite his lies on how he'd wanted to "explore." So this would be my comeback. I'd no longer stop by just to shoot the shit with friends; I was going to participate and be a more active member again.

Wednesday and Thursday flew by in a rush. When I wasn't working, I was making plans for my new home. I bought some basic furniture—a comfortable bed, a couch, new TV, shit like that. I'd fallen for this cabin because the previous owner had clearly loved to cook, so it had a great kitchen. One gas stove, one woodstove. State-of-the-art appliances were installed, and I replaced the countertop of the island with marble. The others were left as is. Old, polished wood. The kitchen was by no means large, but two people could cook together comfortably there, and my niece, Novi, had already asked if she could come up from Seattle and visit.

I'd cook, and she would bake. She would complain about high school boys, and I would nod along in all the right places. It was our thing.

By Saturday, I was ready for a night off. I spent the day doing yardwork around the cabin, preparing planting beds for the spring, testing the soil for apple trees, and transplanting rhubarb. Slowly but surely, I built up more excitement about seeing old friends. And some new too. A buddy had added me to a group chat with Tops, mostly those who liked to plan events and munches, so I knew who I could expect. Madigan and I went back at least a decade, and I'd befriended Ryan a few years ago.

After a hot shower, I stepped into a pair of jeans and shrugged on a black button-down. Socks, boots, keys, phone, wallet—let's see… Why not? I grabbed two rubbers and two packets of lube. You never knew. If I didn't need any of it, someone else might.