Chapter Nine
Four Days Later
Maddox
It was a rare day off, but being the end of the week… I’d take it. One of those days where Jackie promised to take care of the restaurants herself, and to forward any emails to me to be read tomorrow. I didn’t have anything planned, other than possibly stopping by Alaskan Way to peep in without anyone knowing I was there, and thankfully there wasn’t anything else written on my calendar. No business meetings, no doctor visits, no luncheons. I could say, without a doubt, that I had absolutely nothing planned.
So then, why did I feel such an overwhelming urge to do something? I had spent all week thinking of ways to see Everly again, and I did have one idea that was unlikely and nearly impossible, but it was the only trick I had up my sleeve. I hoped Nick wouldn’t mind watching Abby for a bit.
Something wiggled beside me, not unlike a horror movie; I remained still as a creature wormed its way up to me. Stiff, blonde curls popped out of the sheet, and it took me a moment to realize Abby had been hiding under the covers as I slept.
“Hi, Daddy,” she mumbled and rubbed her eyes.
“Hey, sweetheart. How long have you been here?” I wrapped an arm around her tiny frame and snuggled her close.
“Crawled in last night. The wind was scary,” she whined. “Like that movie Uncle Nick was watching before you picked me up.”
I groaned. “You guys watched a scary movie that late?” I wasn’t entirely surprised, which spoke for itself.
“About a guy who chased people with chainsaws and cuts them in graveyards,” Abby said and trembled. “Uncle Nick said it’s good for the brain to watch scary movies early.”
I couldn’t even remember what movie that was, which meant it must have been one of Nick’s B-rated slasher films.
“Don’t listen to Uncle Nick,” I said. “He must have watched one too many scary movies, and his brain is messed up because of it.” Abby giggled.
“Are you going on a date?” she asked. I asked her what she meant. “Uncle Nick said you’re dating.”
“You barely even know what that means. I only went on one date, with Everly.”
“Do you like her?” Abby stared at me with her giant blue eyes, and I was reminded of Everly’s firm refusal. “Daddy?”
“Sure. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t need anyone else but you.” I poked her nose and she laughed.
“Daddy, you need a girlfriend,” she said, and I slowly brought my hands to her sides. She recognized it too late, and Abby screamed bloody murder as I tickled her.
“But then I wouldn’t have time to tickle you!” I yelled, and Abby hit me in the side. She squirmed on the bed, trying to crawl toward the edge, and I pulled her back. “Plus,” I said, getting serious. “I can’t imagine loving anyone else as much as I love you.”
Abby wasn’t one for emotional outbursts, so as I spent a moment bonding with her, she took the opportunity to sneak her arms in my armpits and started tickling me.
“You monster!” I yelled, and she took off from the bed. I chased her down the stairs, where I picked her up and spun her around the room.
“You monster!” she repeated in screams. “You monster!”
I carried her into her room and helped her change for the day.
“What did you eat?” she asked. I had tried explaining to her what a date was before I left, and said that it was a night where two adults shared a dinner. She had seemed so confused, but I promised she’d understand when she was older.
“Steak,” I said.
“That’s so boring!” She picked out my tie, a striped blue one, and fetched my shoes for me. Three-year-olds could be really useful at times.
“It was delicious,” I said, a blatant lie. Abby was already used to the tender portions of steak at my restaurants, and she would have spat last night’s steak out with disgust.
We walked hand in hand over to Nick’s, who answered the door in a paint-splattered apron.
“An early surprise.” He yawned.
“You know how much Abby loves going over here. She’d probably make a tunnel connecting our houses if she could,” I said, and looked over his newest paintings. They were incredible; bright and vivid with dark shadows that really caught your imagination.
“There’s a lot of buzz coming from the galleries downtown,” Nick said. “I sold a few already, and my name’s been popping up in people’s mouths. Soon, I’ll be known in all of Seattle.”
“That’s great,” I said honestly. “They deserve it. You deserve it. I knew you’d get your big break eventually.”
“Is that why you’ve been sponsoring me?” Nick teased. Abby was invested in a mostly blank canvas in the corner, where the corners were covered in stripes of yellow and pin drops of red. She had been working on her own painting for a while, pretending to be Nick’s little apprentice.
“So, now that you got the hardest one out of the way, when’s the next?” Nick asked and plopped down on his couch.
“What?” I frowned, did he mean children?
“Dating. You went on your first date since having a kid, and you’re still standing. That means you’re free to go on others, right?” he said. Nick had been begging me to go out with him for months now, but meeting women at the club and checking into a motel while my 3-year-old was at her grandmother’s didn’t sound like a promising life.
“No dates,” I said. “At least, not with anyone else. You should have met her, Nick. Everly, the woman’s name, she’s smart. Beautiful and smart, with her own aspirations and goals, and damn, I really think she has a chance.”
Nick smirked. “A chance? At what?”
“Well, she’s a chef,” I said. “At Saint Padres, Phil’s place. That asshole you hate. But she had these ideas for her own menu that were amazing, and she’s working now to become head chef. She has no problem speaking her mind, and doesn’t give a shit how much money I make. She ordered the cheapest entree on the menu.”
Nick clapped. “She ordered the cheapest item? She’s obviously the one, Maddox.”
“Go screw yourself,” I whispered below my breath and glanced to make sure Abby didn’t hear.
“It sounds like you really like her,” Nick said. “Poor girl.”
“I don’t know what I feel,” I admitted. “Just that I have to see her again. Will you watch Abby for a while? Not too long, I just have something I need to do.”
“Sure, she needs to work on her painting anyway. I’ll make her some breakfast, and we’ll go out for lunch later.” Nick gestured at Abby’s little workshop in the corner. “You’re going to have an artist on your hands one day.”
“As long as she doesn’t grow up to be like you.” I thanked him and got ready to leave. “Oh, and if you let my 3-year-old watch a slasher film again, I’m going to chase you with a chainsaw around a cemetery.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nick laughed. “Go chase your woman.”
“I’m not chasing anyone. And she’s not my woman,” I mumbled as I entered my car. “Not yet.”
I pulled into an awful parking situation on Third, and after one glance up and down the street, decided to valet three blocks over from Saint Padres instead. It was a busy Monday, in between breakfast and lunch time, and business workers hurried down the street to make it to the office in time. I took my time, hands stuffed in pants, and walked back and forth in front of Saint Padres. The afternoon preps were arriving, and I tried to stay innocuous as I looked for any sign of red hair. My nerves got the better of me, and I walked down a block toward a cat cafe to collect my nerves.
What was I doing? This was never going to work. She was absolutely going to refuse me, possibly even call me a stalker, and hit me with her purse. I paid for a small mocha and brownie and sat in the cat cafe for longer than I’d like to admit. I took Abby there often, and her favorite cat, an adoptable black and white tuxedo who loved purring on her lap, greeted me warmly. He was looking for the 3-year-old who loved scratching behind his ears, surely, and I offered him a pet or two as an apology. His white fur clung onto my dark suit within seconds, and I cursed myself.
There was no way I could confront Everly now, not with cat fur all over me.
I finished my mocha and treat in peace as two other cats lounged beside me. The worker reminded me kindly, once again, that the tuxedo cat was up for adoption, and I pretended to care. Abby would be delighted, but she’s also a 3-year-old with little understanding of what it meant to take care of another living being.
I was making excuses. I realized this as I paid for another mocha and convinced myself that Everly would judge me for three stray cat hairs on my sleeve. I was stalling for time; I was a coward.
Saint Padres was in between the cat cafe and the valet where my car waited, so I slowly walked past it. Just before I turned the corner, however, a flash of bright red caught my eye, and I turned.
Everly was rushing down the street on the opposite road, her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head, and eyes focused on her watch.
This was it. My chance. It was now or never. Seeing her in the flesh, not in the hazy memories of my mind, was like a jolt of electricity to my veins. Had she always been so beautiful?
“Everly,” I said and moved in front of her, but she wasn’t paying attention and she ran right into me.
“I’m so sorry!” she yelled, and stared at me with wide, green eyes. I saw the flicker of recognition, and the shock of surprise, hit her.
“Mr. Moore,” she said and fixed her uniform.
“Maddox, really,” I said. She seemed hesitant.
“Maddox, what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing at her watch. “God, I’m late again.”
“Again?” I bit my lip and stopped a smile. “I wanted to see you.”
Her eyes flickered from her watch to me, and she raised an eyebrow. I realized how inappropriate I sounded.
“I mean, I have a proposition,” I said, and cursed. That also sounded inappropriate.
“I hate to rush you, but I’ve been late twice already this week, and I’m already not on the best of terms with my boss at the moment.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. I only meant that you seemed so skilled and knowledgeable, and in a turn of irony, my chef quit this week.” I forced a smile onto my face.
“Your chef?” she asked. “Like, at your house?”
“Yes,” I said it a little too quickly. “At my house. My personal chef. She made every meal, and was going to teach me how to cook, but she found a better position at, well, death.” I cringed. This was making no sense at all.
“She passed?” Everly covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, I think. But what does your personal chef dying have to do with me?”
“I want to offer you a formal position as my personal chef, and to teach me how to cook. It’s time I learned how to do it myself.” The lie was blasphemous, and if anyone else heard me, Phil, for example, who no doubt was sitting in his office just feet away from me, they would never let me live this down. But it was the only way I could get Everly in my life, while also helping hers. “It’ll look wonderful on future resumes. A lot of people in this city know my name, and they know how I only eat the highest quality food available.”
Everly hesitated, staring at everything except for me. I had expected her to laugh, or to slap me, or just about anything else other than actually contemplating it. But she recognized the potential, it seemed. “What’s your current salary?” I asked.
She whispered a number under her breath, and I almost frowned. Phil was paying her that little?
“I’ll tell you what, the head chef here? He makes well over six figures a year,” I said and pulled out a thin spiral notebook from my pocket and a pen. I scribbled a quick series of numbers, followed by my phone number, and handed it to her. “That’s how much I’ll pay you. You’ll never get paid that much at Saint Padres, even as head chef.”
She stared at the numbers blankly. She would need time to process it, it seemed.
“I’m being serious, Everly,” I said. “I see the potential in you. You just have to see it yourself.”
“This much and I’ll be your chef, and teach you how to cook?” she clarified, and I nodded. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said, and surprised the both of us. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll call you. Thank you, Maddox.”
She rushed into the restaurant and I returned to my car with trembling hands. It worked, so far; my plan worked.
I barely remembered the numbers on the notepad, but I knew they were enough that if she still declined, then she truly did not want to see me again.