Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Gabe spent Sunday night and all of Monday in a whirlwind of celebrations and business meetings. Many people who were in town just until Tuesday wanted to grab time with him, and he wanted to accommodate as many of them as he possibly could.

He kept trying to find a time to talk to Madison, but beyond a few texts, there hadn't been a free minute in the day. She'd been understanding, encouraging him to revel in his victory and explore every opportunity. He deserved it.

She deserved it, too, and he knew it was only the slightest of differences that had put him in the position he was in. He wished that winning hadn't come at her expense. But that was the essence of competition: only one person came out on top.

He was happy the competition was over because he didn't want to compete with her. He didn't want them to be rivals. He wanted a much different kind of relationship. What that relationship could be, however, got more complicated with every potential offer, some of which could take him out of the city, out of the state, even out of the country.

Tuesday morning, he woke up determined to talk to her before he spoke to anyone else, but that plan was derailed by a surprising call from Larry Shaw.

After that conversation, he left his apartment and walked down the hall to ring her bell. He waited a long minute, then rang the bell again, feeling a crushing wave of disappointment that she might not be home.

Then the door flew open, and Madison gave him a breathless smile. She wore a tank top and shorts. Her blonde hair was damp, her cheeks flushed, as if she'd just gotten out of the shower. Every time he saw her beautiful face, he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, and today was no different.

"I wasn't sure if I heard the doorbell ring or not," she said. "I was blow-drying my hair."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She let him in, and they sat down on the sofa in her living room. "You've been a busy guy."

"I have. My head is literally spinning."

"What's going on? From your texts, it sounded like you were having a lot of meetings."

"I've had some very interesting offers floated by me," he admitted.

"Like?"

He hesitated. "We don't have to talk about me. I want to know how you're doing."

She shook her head. "I want to talk about you, Gabe. I'm not a sore loser. You beat me fair and square."

"I think you beat yourself with one tiny mistake."

"One big mistake, and one I don't usually make. But that was on me, and I want to know about the offers. Please share. You don't have to feel bad because good things are happening for you. I want good things to happen for you."

"You're a very generous person, Madison."

"So are you. Tell me the good news."

"Well, Georgia still wants me for her show, but they have a chef under contract, so she can only offer me the fill-in guest spot. She thinks that could lead to a full-time gig as soon as the other contract is up, which is in about two months. However, she introduced me to some other producers, and one of them wants me to host my own show. Apparently, people seem to think I have a face and personality for TV."

"I think they're right," she said with a warm smile. "You do have a good-looking face, Gabe. And a lot of charm. What kind of show would that be?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I also got a call from a documentary filmmaker, who is making a movie about food in different parts of the world and wants me to lead a tour through Venezuela, using my heritage and my cooking knowledge to find other great cooks from that area and introduce the world to them."

"That sounds interesting, too."

"My grandmother would love it," he said. "But that's more of a temporary gig. It would take a month to film, and that's a lot of time depending on what else I'm doing."

"Maybe you can be a guest chef on Georgia's show and do the documentary when you're not doing that."

"That's a possibility. I don't really know what to do. One minute, I'm this guy who makes tacos in a food truck and the next minute, I'm supposed to be a celebrity television chef?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "It's hard to wrap my head around that."

"You have never been just a guy who makes tacos in a truck," she said. "You've always been more than that. I'm so glad the world sees your talent."

"It feels good to have offers, but they're taking me far away from my original dream of owning my own restaurant, Madison. That's what I've always wanted."

"All these could just be steps to get to that place, Gabe. Also, it's only been a day, so you may get offers from restaurant owners, too. This is just the beginning for you."

"What about for you?" he asked, his recent call with Larry ringing through his head.

She gave him a speculative look. "Did you speak to Larry?"

"Why would you think that?" he countered.

"Because he told me yesterday that he should have hired you instead of me. I thought he might get in touch with you."

"Larry called me this morning," he admitted. "He said he might be making some changes and wanted to know if I'd consider taking over La Marée."

"I'm not surprised," she said, her expression dimming.

"I'm sorry, Madison."

"This is what you always wanted, Gabe. You parked your truck down the street from La Marée to prove to Larry he made a mistake, and now he's looking to you to save the restaurant."

"I did all that before I met you," he said, needing her to really know how much his feelings had changed. "That was before I knew how good you were. I hope you don't still believe I want you to fail."

She met his gaze. "I don't believe that."

"Good," he said with relief.

"This isn't on you, Gabe. Larry is disappointed in me for many reasons. I lost the competition by undercooking one of our signature dishes. The roast chicken dish I got the most praise for isn't even on our menu. Besides all that, he doesn't think the numbers are growing fast enough. The only way he'll consider keeping me on is if I continue to compete in cooking competitions to build a name for myself that will draw people in and create positive publicity for the restaurant."

"He's an idiot. You need to be cooking at your restaurant, consistently bringing people back for your incredible food. That's what will build your business. And that roast chicken dish should definitely be on your menu."

"I told him that, but he doesn't agree. He's worried about his investment. He gave me a chance because of my father, but now he wants to take more control."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, realizing what a difficult position she was in. "You could compete again. You could look at the competitions as a way to build your restaurant. You almost won this last one. You could do it all again."

She nodded. "I've thought about it. But I wouldn't be building my restaurant anymore; I'd be building his. There would be another chef making the food while I was out making my name. Larry told me in the beginning I'd have autonomy, that I knew the restaurant world, and he didn't. But that changed almost right away. He wanted input on the menu. He chose some of the décor. He was very particular about pricing and what kind of food he wanted to serve. I was on board for most of it because I did come into it wanting to run a fine-dining restaurant, and he was, for the most part, giving me a lot of say. But now he's lost faith in me, and once that happens, it's difficult to get it back."

He frowned at her words. "I don't know how Larry could lose faith in you. You barely lost the competition and look how many chefs you beat along the way."

She shrugged. "It is what it is. What did you tell him? Are you interested in taking over La Marée?"

"No. I told him he's being too impatient. Restaurants take time to grow. You've only been open six weeks, and you haven't even had a chance to see the bump in revenue from being in the finals. A lot of people in that audience will come to your restaurant, Madison. They'll want to meet you and taste your food. He should give you time to prove that."

"He thinks I've had enough time."

"Well, he's wrong. And I told him I'm not interested in running La Marée. It's not the kind of restaurant that would showcase my talents. But it is the kind of restaurant that will showcase yours."

"I don't think so, Gabe."

There was a finality in her voice that surprised him. "What does that mean?"

"I'm going to tell Larry today that I'll run the restaurant for another month. I appreciate the opportunity he gave me, and I don't want to leave him in the lurch. But we are not on the same page, and I think we'll both be happier if we part ways."

He was shocked by her words. "Are you sure you want to quit your dream, Madison? I know you said he had more input than you wanted, but it's still your restaurant. And the kitchen is amazing. It's a dream to cook in. You need to think about this. Give yourself some time to recover from the competition and to show Larry that what you did the past two weeks is already paying off. This is too big of a decision to make so fast."

"I've actually been wondering if I'm in the right place for some time now. The past few weeks I have learned so much Gabe. Not just about running a restaurant, but about myself, how I want to cook, what I want to cook, and who I want my customers to be. I've been trying to be the chef my father could be proud of, that he could talk about to his friends. It's so ridiculous that I'm thirty years old and still trying to make that man respect me. I'm done."

"He wasn't happy that you lost, was he?"

"I knew he wouldn't be. But I had a good talk with my mom after the finals. She has always supported me, and I realized I never gave her credit for that. All I could focus on was my father's disappointment, instead of her joy and encouragement. Why did I give him so much power over me?" she asked in bemusement.

"Because he's your dad."

"My mother says he drives himself just as hard as he pushes the rest of us. He hates the feeling of being a loser, and that's why he's so tough on us, because he doesn't want us to feel like failures. She might be right. I know he loves us. He just doesn't know how to be a parent who doesn't criticize. Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not him. I'm not my siblings, and I'm not my mom. I'm me."

"That's more than good enough, Madison," he said, liking the new strength and confidence he saw in her beautiful green eyes.

"I'm beginning to think so, too," she said. "You've always built me up, Gabe. Even when we were trying to beat each other, you were there for me. You pushed me in a good way."

"You did the same for me. But that said, let's just admit we were the two best chefs in the competition."

She laughed. "Well, it's probably good if we only say that to each other."

He grinned. "I agree. What are you going to do if you quit La Marée?"

"I don't know." She paused. "I did get a call this morning from a restaurant group in San Diego. They want to talk to me about running a restaurant for them."

"What?" he asked, shocked by her casual statement. "Why didn't you say that before now? That's huge."

"I'm not sure how real it is. It was just a message from an admin. I'm sure they're talking to a lot of people. They'll probably call you, too, Gabe."

"Don't downplay it, Madison. This is a good thing, and I'm very sure it's real."

"I'll call them back and find out. Anyway, I don't know what the future holds. But I don't think it will be in fine dining. It struck me when you brought our friends to the restaurant how nervous some of them were about eating there, and that's not the feeling I want to create. I don't want to be exclusive or elitist. I don't want to just serve people like my father and Larry. I had more fun cooking in your truck for those kids than I've had in a long time. And making that roast chicken, that's my style. Rustic, classic but elevated, beautiful, cooked with love and respect for every ingredient. That's who I am," she said passionately. "I know I've made good food at La Marée, but the whole scene: the pricing, the way the menu is written, the formal service… It's not accessible to everyone, and that bothers me. I want to be authentic from now on. I want to be me, faults and all." She blew out a breath. "Sorry. That was a long speech."

"That was amazing," he said, impressed by her words. "You've gained a lot of clarity and confidence."

"I have," she said with a nod. "That reviewer was right. My food is good, but it doesn't have enough soul, and I need to fix that. I can't do that at La Marée."

"Maybe you can. Tell Larry what you just told me."

"I did. Not in exactly the same way but close enough. He said he wants his original vision of the restaurant. He wants the chef who told him she could make that happen. But I'm not that chef anymore. And he has changed, too. I understand it's his money on the line. The risk is great for him. He should have absolute confidence in who runs his restaurant, and he does not have confidence in me."

"Someone else will," he said with certainty.

She met his gaze head-on. "I think so, too. Anyway, it sounds like we both have changes coming up."

"Changes, opportunities, and possible moves. But that's our professional lives. Let's get personal," he said, feeling suddenly nervous because there was a lot on the line.

"Considering what you just said, this is probably the wrong time to even attempt to figure out our personal lives," she said slowly, her gaze a mix of emotions.

"I disagree," he said strongly.

His words brought a helpless smile to her face. "Why am I not surprised you disagree, Gabe?"

"Because you know there's something happening between us, and I don't want it to stop happening," he said. "Do you?"

"You might be moving away, and I might be as well. Starting something now seems foolish. Who knows where we'll be in three months? We could be miles apart. We could be countries apart."

"We already started something, Madison," he argued. "The first night we met, I couldn't take my eyes off you. And while you might have been a little drunk, I was completely sober, and I didn't want to stop talking to you or kissing you after we left the bar. When my idiot brother's call interrupted us and you took off, I was afraid I wouldn't see you again, and I was incredibly disappointed. I'd never had such an interesting and odd conversation with a woman. Certainly no one had ever asked me what I wanted my last meal to be. I was intrigued."

"That was the tequila talking."

"But then we started discussing food, and you were as interested in the subject as I was, and that almost never happens."

"Not for me, either. I have bored a number of men with my roast chicken story."

"If only they had realized just how good that chicken was you were talking about."

She smiled. "You were skeptical, too."

"I was, until I tasted it. You did your mentor proud."

"I think so, too. I finally got it right because I was cooking with love and passion, not just precision and perfection."

"It needed all of that to be as great as it was."

She nodded. "I kind of wish you'd made your hallacas for the final round."

"I thought about it, but that's my grandmother's dish, and her recipe, one she hasn't chosen to share with me, although I basically know it just from having watched her all these years. But I felt like I needed to make the menu mine."

"That was a good decision." She took a breath and let it out. "I liked you that night at Maverick's, too, but then I hated you the next day when I realized you were responsible for the line blocking my door, making a mockery out of my restaurant being half-empty every night."

"I wasn't a big fan of yours, either, until I realized my impression of you was completely wrong. You weren't just playing at being a chef. Your father didn't buy you the job."

"He did connect me with Larry."

"But you had been cooking in the trenches for years. You were well-trained and well-suited for that job. And you were trying so hard to make things work. That's when I realized how petty I was being. You weren't my enemy. My lack of vision and obsession with Larry's rejection of my offer to work for him were the things that were holding me back, not you." He took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. "That's all in the past. I want you to be in my life going forward."

"I want you to be in mine," she admitted. "I just don't know if we can both get what we want and make that happen, too, Gabe."

"We can if we try. We can have it all."

"I'm not sure that's true."

"We'll make it true. You should go for what you want, and I should go for what I want, but we're chefs, and we can cook anywhere, right?" He took a breath, wanting her to understand the depth of his feelings for her. "You've got my heart, Madison, and I can't live without my heart or without you. So, wherever you go, I'm going. I'll find an opportunity here if you want to stay in Oceanside. And if you want to leave, I'll look for something to do somewhere else."

Her eyes grew teary. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. But I can't let you give up opportunities for me. You'd end up resenting me."

"I wouldn't. Because I know what my priorities are. I didn't just learn how to cook from my grandmother. I learned that love means putting someone else first. And I want to put you first."

"Did you just say you love me?" A tear slipped from her eye, and he wiped it away with his finger.

"I think I did, and I didn't mean to make you cry."

"They're happy tears. No one has ever wanted to put me first, Gabe."

"Thank God, because then I wouldn't be here with you."

She gazed into his eyes. "You have my heart, too. So, wherever you're going, I'm going. You're right. I can cook anywhere. And I'll cook a hell of a lot better if I'm with you. We can argue all night about kale."

"I have better ideas for our nights than arguing about kale. But I do like that we can do that, too."

"So do I."

He felt a wave of relief at her words. "Then we'll figure it out. We'll factor each other into any decision we make. What do you think about that?"

"I think you're going to be stuck with me."

He smiled. "I sure as hell hope so."

She cupped his face and gazed into his eyes. "We may not know where we're going eventually, but I'm thinking we should start now by going into the bedroom. Didn't we agree that whoever won would comfort the loser?"

"I don't remember that deal," he said with a laugh. "But what we found together, Madison, that's the real prize, so we both won. That deserves celebration more than comfort. And we've delayed our celebration far too long." He pulled her into his arms for a kiss…that was once again interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. "Damn," he muttered in annoyance.

"You should get that," she said. "It might be important."

He checked his phone. The number did not belong to anyone in his family. "Not as important as you." He shut off his phone, then pushed her back against the sofa cushions with a smile. "No more interruptions. I want to show you how much you mean to me, Madison."

"I want to show you the same. And by the way, I'm falling in love with you, too."

"Good. So, kiss me already."

"Okay, but just to warn you…I'm never going to want to stop, Gabe."

He smiled. "I'm counting on that."