3. Gianni

gianni

. . .

Inside the small office off Etoile’s kitchen, I took off my coat and sat down at the desk. Leaving here by two o’clock meant I had a lot to get done in the next few hours—check yesterday’s sales and time sheets, do inventory, place orders, help Ellie load the wine and glasses she was taking to Harbor Springs into my SUV. I also wanted to run home and change clothes, just in case Ellie needed a hand pouring or the hostess needed help serving.

Anything I could do to increase Ellie’s chances of snagging that 30 Under 30 spot, I’d do it.

But before I did anything, I had to call my dad. We both had Monday nights off and usually spent them cooking together at my parents’ house, trying new ingredients, testing out recipes, coming up with fresh takes on traditional favorites, giving my mom a hard time, making her taste everything and tell us whose dish was better (she would never choose).

I wasn’t sure I’d ever get married—and it wouldn’t be until I was much older and too tired to do anything else—but if I did, I wanted the kind of marriage my parents had. It wasn’t that they always got along perfectly, like Ellie’s parents seemed to, but no matter how much they scrapped, at the end of the day they were always on the same side—usually it was them against me and my twin brothers, who were two years younger and ten times as rowdy. My poor mom had to put up with a lot of shit when we were kids, and my dad worked crazy restaurant hours, so she had to wrangle us on her own most of the time and take care of our baby sister too.

My dad knew it, and the only time he’d ever really get mad at one of us was if we’d done or said something that upset our mom. He was a guy’s guy, and he could be a real dick in the kitchen if things weren’t done exactly the way he wanted them, but he was madly in love with my mother and always had been. He said he knew he’d marry her the first day they met.

That was why last summer, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, he’d asked me to come home from L.A. and run the kitchen at his restaurant, Trattoria Lupo, for a few months. Lick My Plate had already finished filming, but I wouldn’t have hesitated anyway—I jumped on a plane, rented an apartment not far from the restaurant, and dedicated myself to his kitchen like it was my own.

Luckily, the cancer was non-invasive and treatable, but it was still a rough time. She’d needed surgery and radiation in order to lower the risk of recurrence. My dad wanted to focus solely on her, and she was overwhelmed trying to manage her health and get my younger sister—her name was Francesca, but we always called her Chessie—ready for her freshman year at Kalamazoo College.

Since my mother would have been livid if she’d known he asked me to come home—she didn’t want anyone to know about her diagnosis—I never said a word about it to anyone. I just said I was taking a break after the show wrapped in order to consider my next move. The offer from Ellie’s parents—who I called Uncle Lucas and Aunt Mia—to open Etoile had come just after my mom’s surgery. After talking it over with my mom and dad, and making sure the Fourniers knew I could only commit for six months, I decided to take it.

Although, if I accepted the new reality show I’d been offered, I’d have to get out of the contract at least a month early—that was one of the things making me hesitate about the contract. I didn’t want to go back on my word.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pop.”

“Hey. We still on for tonight? I’m gonna kick your ass with a duck breast.”

I laughed. “You probably would, but I can’t make it tonight.”

“Scared I’ll beat you?”

“Listen, old man, I had a prawn and chive dumpling with sake butter and ponzu planned that was gonna make you weep.”

“Damn. That does sound good. Why can’t you make it?”

“I have to take Ellie up to Harbor Springs. She’s doing a private wine tasting at somebody’s vacation home, and she was planning to drive alone.”

“Tonight? There’s a huge storm coming.”

“I know. Believe me, I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen.” I explained who the host and hostess were and why Ellie was so determined to get there and impress them. “She’s convinced that somehow, tonight is going to change her life.”

My dad laughed. “Yeah, you can’t talk to a woman when she gets that in her head. Well, be careful. Leave early, go slow, and get off the road if it gets bad.”

“I will.”

“You give any more thought to that other TV offer yet?”

“Some.” I hesitated. “It would be a hard thing to walk away from.”

It was another cooking competition show, where experienced chefs would mentor attractive B-list celebrities who claimed to be clueless in the kitchen, and their meals would be judged by a panel of experts. It was called Hot Mess, and as ridiculous as the concept was, it would probably be a huge hit.

But the offer was to host the show, not appear as one of the mentor chefs or judges, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to move in that direction—away from the kitchen.

And contrary to what Ellie implied, I loved Abelard and enjoyed working here. I’d had a lot of input into the kitchen design, the hiring, the menu, and the methods. I was proud of the way it had turned out. But I’d never planned to stay forever.

I never planned to stay anywhere forever.

As a kid I’d been restless, never wanting to sit still or do what I was told. Fragile objects tempted me to smash them, rules dared me to break them, every hill had to be climbed and conquered—boredom was the enemy. As an adult, I still had that burning desire to go everywhere, do everything, fuck shit up. I never wanted to stop moving or settle down or even grow old. The question was always, what will my next adventure be?

I wasn’t positive another TV show was the answer, but I’d told Spencer, my agent, I’d decide on the network’s offer this week. For a second, I thought maybe I’d talk to Ellie about it on the ride to Harbor Springs. She was smart and ambitious too, so maybe she’d have some advice. Granted, she was likely to give me some shit about cutting out of Etoile early, but maybe she’d be so eager to get rid of me, she’d encourage me to take the gig.

Then she’d watch every single episode and lie about it, I thought with a grin.

“I agree, it would be hard to turn down,” my dad said. “But ultimately, is another show what you want to do? Is that the direction you want to take with your career?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “But I don’t want to waste time doing things that don’t matter. I like cooking for people, learning new things, coming up with new ideas. I don’t even think I’d be in the kitchen much on that show they’re pitching. I’d be the host. Fucking window dressing.”

“It’s a bitch to be so good-looking.”

I laughed. “Yeah.” I tried again to put my finger on what was holding me back and heard Ellie’s voice in my head. “Do you think it’s just bullshit? A joke?”

“Nah. People like to be entertained. Those kinds of shows are an escape.”

“So I have to decide if I want to be an escape or a chef.”

“Being an escape pays better,” my dad pointed out. “You could take the paycheck and do something more worthwhile afterward.”

“True.”

“When do you have to give them an answer?”

“Next week. And then I’d have to talk to Lucas and Mia about leaving Etoile before my six months is up. I’d have to be in L.A. by the first of April.”

“I’m sure they’d understand. And that’s almost three months away, but the sooner you tell them, the better. They’ll need the time to find someone to replace you.”

“I know.” I glanced out at Etoile’s kitchen, torn between staying and going. “I do like it here.”

“But it was always temporary, right?”

“Right. You know me—no standing still.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to get the phone calls from the principal anymore.”

I laughed. “Me too. Later, Pop.”

We hung up, and I looked at the radar again. Once more, the giant gray and white cloud heading our way gave me pause. But it was still a little ways off and likely wouldn’t be an issue on the drive there, as long as we left on time. And maybe I’d make those dumplings anyway, bring them with us tonight and offer them as an appetizer.

Setting my phone aside, I got to work.

By two that afternoon, my SUV was loaded with cases of wine, boxes of stemware, and an insulated cooler bag with the ingredients I’d need to plate the prawn and chive dumplings with sake butter I’d prepped. It meant I hadn’t had time to run home and grab a nicer pair of pants, but I figured we could swing by my apartment on our way out of town.

“Ready?” I asked Ellie, who stood at the back of my car looking over everything. She was all bundled up in her winter coat, mittens, and snow boots, as if we were walking to Harbor Springs, not driving.

“Yes.” She frowned at the cooler bag and pointed at it with one hand. “What’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I reached up to close the hatch, and she grabbed my arm.

“Gianni, what is it?”

“It’s just an appetizer. I had all the ingredients because I was planning to make it at my parents’ house tonight. Those are the plans I had to cancel.” I paused for effect. “You’re welcome.”

She looked scandalized. “We can’t bring food !”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s insulting! The hostess is cooking.”

“I’ll just offer. If she turns me down, fine.”

“What is it?”

“Prawn and chive dumplings with sake butter and ponzu sauce.”

She scowled. “That sounds delicious.”

I laughed at her mad face. “They are. I thought they’d be a nice surprise, but if you want me to take them out, I will.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure everyone will love them, and I can pair them with the sparkling white. Just...just don’t make tonight about you, okay?”

“It’s just some dumplings, Ellie.”

“I know, but you have this way of—of sucking up all the energy in a room. You’re entertaining without even trying to be, so just stay in the background and don’t be charming,” she begged. “Don’t even smile.”

“I will be a bump on a log. Now will you let go of me so I can shut this and we’re not late?”

Reluctantly, she took her hands off my arm, but she stayed right there while I shut the hatch, as if she didn’t trust me not to add any other illegal cargo to her ship.

Once it was closed, I turned to face her. Snowflakes floated down around her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and her skin seemed paler than usual—was she nervous?

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said, her brown eyes troubled. “I just have a weird feeling.”

“I thought you had a feeling that tonight was going to change your life.”

“I did. I do . I just...” She shivered.“I have this other feeling that something could go wrong.”

“The weather?” I looked up at the gray sky. “Come on, it’s barely snowing. These are just flurries.” I thumped a hand on the back of my car. “She’s sturdy. We’ll be fine.”

“Aren’t you the one who said I should cancel?”

“I changed my mind.” Taking her by the shoulders, I turned her around and steered her to the passenger door, which I opened for her. “I turned the seat warmer on for you. Get in and toast your buns. Leave the rest to me.”

“Okay.”

“If you want, I can give you some lessons in charm on the drive.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped up into the front seat. “Wow. It is nice and warm.”

“See? Now relax. Everything is gonna be great.” I shut the door, hustled around to the driver’s side, and we headed out.

Abelard Vineyards was located mid-way up Old Mission Peninsula, a narrow, eighteen-mile strip of land jutting into Grand Traverse Bay. Its gently rolling hills and surrounding waters not only gave it gorgeous views, but a microclimate that was particularly suited for growing grapes and other fruit. We passed several other wineries and farms on the twenty-minute drive to Traverse City, as well as some luxury vacation homes. Ellie seemed distracted by the scenery for a while, but the moment I exited the highway, she snapped to attention.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing around. “This isn’t the way.”

“I have to stop by my apartment real quick.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to show up in jeans, okay?” I turned into my complex.

“Why didn’t you do this sooner?”

“Two minutes, and we’ll be on the road again. Promise.”

She remained silent as I pulled into a spot in front of my building, arms folded over her chest.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“No.”

“I’ll leave the car on so you have heat.” I opened the door and started to get out.

“Wait, I’ll come in,” she said, opening her door too. “I forgot to go to the bathroom at Abelard, and it’s a long drive.”

“Okay.” I shut off the engine and grabbed the key fob, locking the doors behind us.

Ellie followed me into my apartment and looked around. It wasn’t a big place—one bedroom, one bath, small living room and kitchen right behind it—but it was enough room for me.

“Kinda sparse,” she said, taking in my couch, coffee table, and lamp, which was really the only furniture I had.

“Yeah, it’s just a few things my parents gave me from their house. I didn’t know how long I was going to be here, so I didn’t want to buy too much.” After ditching my boots, I went around the corner into my bedroom, gesturing to a door off the hall. “Bathroom is right there.”

“Thanks.”

Inside my room, I took off my coat, lifted my sweater over my head, and tossed it onto my unmade bed. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I traded my jeans for a pair of dress pants and yanked a clean white shirt from a hanger. After buttoning up and tucking in, I zipped up my pants and grabbed a nicer belt.

From the back of my closet, I snagged a small duffel bag and tossed in a good pair of shoes. On impulse, I grabbed a clean pair of underwear, some deodorant, and an extra pair of socks—just in case. I tossed it all in the bag, and at the last second, decided to throw in my jeans and sweater too.

I turned off the light and opened the bedroom door at the same time Ellie came out of the bathroom. We stood chest to chest for an awkward moment—or maybe more like face to chest. She’d taken her boots off at the door too, and in her socks she was a solid eight inches shorter than me. I glanced down at her feet and started to laugh.

“What’s funny?” she demanded.

“Your socks.” They were bright aqua blue with strawberries and some kind of small animals on them. “Are those beavers?”

“Hedgehogs.” She covered one foot with the other. “These are my lucky socks, okay? My dad got them for me. I love hedgehogs.”

“Okay.”

“What’s in the bag?” she asked, pointing at my duffel.

“Whips. Chains. My gimp suit.” I shrugged. “If the party gets fun, I want to be prepared.”

She exhaled, her eyes closing.

“Relax, it’s just my dress shoes. A change of clothes.”

“Why do you need a change of clothes?”

“My mom taught me to be prepared.” I sidestepped her, dropping my bag in the hall and moving into the bathroom. “Didn’t yours?”

She stood behind me, watching as I checked my reflection in the mirror over the sink. “Um, only every single day of my life. I was the only kid in elementary school that had a spare raincoat, umbrella, hat, mittens, and scarf in her locker at all times.”

“I think I stole an umbrella from your locker once.”

“You did. It had hedgehogs on it, and it was adorable. You whacked it against the flagpole, and it got all bent out of shape.”

“Sorry. I’ll get you a new one.” I ran a hand over my scruffy jaw. “I didn’t shave today. Or yesterday.”

“Too late to worry about that now.”

I fussed with my hair a little and caught her smirking in the mirror. “What?”

“You’re so vain about your hair.”

“I am not.” But I totally was. If she wasn’t standing right there, I’d have gotten my blow dryer out and given it a little more life.

“You so are. I bet you have more hair products than I do.” She nodded at the vanity cupboards. “Open that.”

“No.”

She elbowed me aside and opened one door, then burst out laughing. “My God! You have more hair products than Winnie and me put together ! Is that mousse ?”

“Enough.” I grabbed her from behind and dragged her out of the bathroom. “We have to go. You’re in a hurry, remember? Go put your boots back on.”

But I didn’t let go of her right away. I was bigger and stronger and felt like I had to take her down a notch by showing it. Plus, not gonna lie, her hair smelled amazing—like summer at the beach. I almost asked her what shampoo she used.

She tugged at my arms. “Let go of me, you big umbrella-bashing bully.”

I held on a couple seconds longer than necessary, then released her. Back in the bathroom, I shut the door, used it, and washed my hands. Figuring she’d hear the blow dryer if I turned it on, I settled for messing with my hair with my fingers. After a quick spray of cologne, I tossed a couple products in my bag, hid them beneath my jeans and sweater, and zipped it back up.

When I opened the door, she was standing right there, a grin on her face. “Did you pack the mousse? The blizzard might flatten your ’do.”

“Go,” I barked, giving her a gentle nudge with my bag. “We’re going to be late.”

I followed her out, locked the door, and popped the hatch on my SUV. The temperature was dropping quickly, and the wind had picked up. The flurries that had been gently drifting from the sky when we’d left Abelard were blowing sideways. I tossed my bag in the back, and a few minutes later, we were on the highway again.

“It’s like we’re on a romantic little road trip,” I said as we headed north.

“No, it isn’t—it’s a work event.” She reached over and poked my shoulder. “ My work event. You’re going to stay in the background, remember?”

“So, like, don’t take my pants off and dance on the table?”

“I would murder you with a corkscrew. Then I’d flatten your hair in your coffin.”

“Damn. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Thank you.” A few minutes later, she sniffed. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

“That smell.” She leaned toward me, nearly putting her face in my neck. “Did you put cologne on?”

“I forget,” I lied, unnerved at the way my pulse quickened with her lips so close to my skin. “I might have.”

She laughed. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I like to smell nice.”

She inhaled once more, then settled back in her seat. “It does smell nice.”

I glanced at her, surprised at the rare compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Focusing on the road again, and the snow swirling across the pavement, I felt warm beneath my coat as I thought about my hands on her body in the dark.