Chapter Twenty-One
A bead of sweat rolled down my spine and I contemplated puking. I set the plate down, brushed my hands over my chef coat with trembling hands and then tucked them quickly behind my back.
This afternoon had been the single most terrifying experience of my life. I’d arrived in the Sarita kitchen at nine this morning and started serving Ezra at three. He’d given me sixteen chances in the form of unique dishes to blow his mind.
I hoped to do it in twelve.
It was risky.
After setting the last and final dessert in front of him, I started second guessing everything I’d done and didn’t do. Every tiny, insignificant decision. From where I’d gotten my prosciutto for the fire-roasted Padrón peppers that I’d tossed in sea salt and turmeric, finished with mint, to the firmness of the goat cheese I used for the honey dipped goat cheese balls I lightly fried and served with a mint cream sauce.
But I’d especially second guessed my choice of using only twelve dishes. Three appetizers, four second plates and five thirds. Oh, and then the dessert course, which I didn’t really count since it barely passed as servable.
Ezra eyed my bite-size tres leches cakes and churro fries with caramel crema dipping sauce. I didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but I had done the desserts in the tapas style of the rest of the meal. Little bites that were meant to be shared around the table.
They weren’t the most inventive of desserts ever created, but pastries were not my specialty. I also knew Ezra hired a pastry company to handle the sweet courses throughout the harem, including Sarita. This course was a test to see how well-rounded I was. That was fine. My caramel dipping sauce was spectacular. And my churro fries had turned out perfectly. I had made the cake bites yesterday, so I sincerely hoped they hadn’t dried out yet. But they looked pretty.
I’d had a third dish planned, some puff pastry fritters with a custard drizzle. I was going to cut them in little S’s and wow him with my ability to theme like a boss. But I’d scrapped the idea when I realized they were too similar to the churros. There was no point in ending the meal with a fried-food-fest that could rival the county fair.
Ezra turned to the other two judges with him and I felt like I’d accidentally signed up for a cooking reality show on Bravo.
Killian sat to his right, serious and intimidating. He wouldn’t go easy on me no matter how much he liked me. And he knew all my weaknesses from my years of working under him.
As if he wasn’t bad enough, Arón Delgato sat to his left. Delgato owned three Spanish restaurants in the Charlotte area and a pretty famous flagship out of Raleigh. I’d sat in a lecture he did when I was in culinary school and he’d intimidated me back then. Now my knees trembled, and I had started mentally willing my body to stop sweating.
This was the end, I reminded myself. For better or worse, I’d managed to get through the entire service without a major calamity.
After the first courses of goat cheese balls, Spanish Rioja-glazed chorizo, and chickpeas, and then heirloom tomatoes and spring onion toast with brazed manchego cheese shavings, I had relaxed into doing what I do best.
Other than having to serve the three judges myself and explain each dish, I’d spent most of the day in the kitchen with my head down. It had felt amazing to finally cook in Sarita. I took full advantage of the huge space, even if I didn’t have it all to myself.
Vera had the kitchen staff prepping for the night on one side of the big space while I took up the other half. They pretty much stayed out of my way except to offer encouragement or loud whistles when I’d done something that especially impressed them.
That was probably the best part of the day—working near the staff I was coming to appreciate and respect. Vera had done some whipping into shape with their preparation and skills, and they’d seriously cleaned up the kitchen in her short tenure. But they were also good people. Talented people. I knew that if I had the opportunity to lead them, we could do some incredible things.
“Did you find that you had enough time to prepare for this meal?” Killian asked after he’d sampled both desserts.
I thought back to the last week of frantic prepping. Wyatt had given me some wiggle room at Lilou so I could spend more time at home perfecting the dishes I wanted to make. But I hadn’t left him totally high and dry. The current state of my apartment verged on catastrophic. And laundry would need to be done ASAP. I was presently wearing my last pair of clean underwear.
Not that Wyatt would have complained if I suddenly started going without.
“Of course,” I told him.
His lips twitched. He knew I was lying, but he thankfully didn’t call me on it. “Where did you get the idea for the caramel crema? I enjoyed the way you tweaked a more classic dessert.”
I shrugged and attempted a wobbly smile, admitting the truth this time. “My head. It’s a dish I personally enjoy. I wanted to bring in the elements of all of my favorite things and showcase my personality in them.”
“You’ve done that,” Delgato murmured. It was impossible to tell if he was complimenting or insulting me. “And the crispy squid? Actually, just walk us through the second course.”
My brain blanked on what I’d even served for the second course. It didn’t feel possible to have done all of this in one day. And yet, somehow, I’d created the best meal of my entire life.
There were things I would have done differently now that I was on this side of the mayhem. But I’d given it everything I had and was super proud of what I’d accomplished.
“I wanted something light and edgy, but also balanced. There was a lot of pressure to impress you with just this one meal.” I laughed lightly, and they smiled at my honesty. “I also wanted to bring in some other cultural flavor profiles. I know this is a traditionally Spanish restaurant, but one of my favorite things about cooking is bringing different tastes together and making them work to feature the best of everything. Crispy squid is one of my favorite dishes. I served it with the harissa aioli to cut the richness of it and then squeezed some lemon over the top for that acidity that I feel all fried seafood needs. Another favorite flavor profile of mine is artichokes and bacon.” I grinned again. “Okay, I’m a big fan of bacon in general. But the crumbled smoked bacon and gorgonzola over grilled artichoke hearts is a particularly heavenly combination. Patatas bravas seemed like an obvious choice. But I julienned fingerling potatoes, so they would present nicely with the roasted serranos. The smoked paprika aioli and fried egg over the top was an idea inspired by Wyatt’s asparagus on the Lilou menu. Seafood is such an obvious choice for tapas, but I wanted to stretch some of the concepts already on the menu. That’s where I came up with the cold PEI mussels. So, I cooked them first in red wine and chopped tomatoes, onions and pineapple. I bulked up the broth while they simmered and then quick-cooled all of it. I finished the dish with fresh coriander.”
“Those were my least favorite,” Arón commented.
I nodded, accepting the criticism without defending my dish. I knew I was taking a risk with the pineapple and the temperature. But I hadn’t wanted to play it safe or predictable.
“I liked the pineapple,” Killian added thoughtfully. “I mean, I don’t think I want to eat mussels cold every time I have them. But the dish itself was interesting enough to catch my attention and boasted the chops to back it up.”
“Thank you, chef,” I said quietly, demurely, with all the decorum in the world. On the inside, I’d thrown my hands in the air and was basically twerking in celebration.
Ezra didn’t comment one way or the other. “And the third course?”
I went over my stuffed sardines with chorizo and poblano peppers; the prawns tossed in a garlic-chili-lemon glaze; the cheese and cauliflower fritters with a mint yogurt dip; and the marinated saffron lamb skewers and salsa verde. I’d also served the Padrón peppers with that course.
They said even less about my third plates. Other than Ezra’s casual, “There was a lot of mint throughout.”
“My attempt at cohesion,” I answered lamely.
Ezra pushed the dessert to the middle of the table and folded his arms over his chest. His eyes moved over the dishes I’d slaved over that sat mostly untouched. They’d been picked at and ripped apart, severely inspected for mistakes and flaws.
I didn’t know what they found. And I couldn’t have told you if anything had turned out like it was supposed to.
The temptation to second guess every single thing I’d done and thought and approved today was so strong, I felt strangled by it. Instead, I forced my brain to focus on the technical aspects I knew I could control. The pepper was perfectly tender. The lamb was finished exactly right. My mint yogurt dip required exactly this amount of chopped mint leaves.
My execution was perfect. TBD on what any of it tasted like.
“What makes you think you can handle a kitchen like Sarita?” Ezra asked in a voice that was calm and direct. I’ll admit I was terrified.
This was it. My chance. I thought of Wyatt’s text this morning. Don’t fuck it up, Swift. You deserve this.
Such a charmer.
Still, I smiled like an idiot at his straightforward advice. That he believed I deserved a kitchen of this caliber said everything I needed to hear. And the advice was sound. Don’t get in your own way. Don’t overthink it. Don’t let them intimidate you into cooking anything less than your very best.
And I didn’t.
I’d given it all today. Now I just needed to prove to Ezra that I would give it all every day.
Smiling to soften what I was about to say, I swallowed the remaining fear and embraced this thing I wanted so badly. “I like to believe I could handle any kitchen given the chance. I’ve spent the last five years at Lilou, some of that time as sous chef. I’ve worked under two of the best chefs in the industry.” I wasn’t even trying to butter Killian up. It was the truth. “I’ve learned from them, I’ve grown under their guidance and expertise, and I feel ready to take the next step to executive chef. I want that to be at Sarita because I get her. I get her vibe. I feel the connection in our souls. I know I would be a great asset to her kitchen. But more than that, I know I would be good for her. I want her to grow. I looked at her stats over the last two years and they’re not impressive. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be getting awards and accolades. There’s no reason she shouldn’t have one of the best menus in the country. I believe I have the ability to give her those things. My background is in Latin cooking. I fell into Lilou on a fluke. And while I’ve loved working there, I have more potential than that kitchen.” I caught Killian’s direct gaze and remembered the advice he’d given me. “That said, I think Sarita is already doing a lot of things well. I don’t want to step in here and change everything. I just want the opportunity to expand and mature what you’re already doing here.”
Ezra nodded, accepting my answer. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought his shoulders might have relaxed some and the look in his eyes had softened. He went on to ask me about work habits and hours, how I felt about putting in the time and energy it took to be executive chef. And then he asked me how I thought I would fare working alongside him.
Clearing my throat, I gave him the nicest answer I was capable of giving him. “To be honest, I’ve watched Killian and Wyatt work with you and I’ve seen them both frustrated with their inability to independently create. If you micromanage everything I do, I think I’ll end up just like them. But I hope that you would trust your hiring process and me. Sarita has all my best intentions. I only want great things for her. I’d love to be as autonomous as possible. Let me find the menus that work the best. Let me have complete creative control. And let me show you I know what I’m doing.”
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Good god, you sound just like Wyatt.”
I smiled at my feet. Killian saved me from responding by saying, “She has a point. Stop nit-picking your chefs into insanity.”
Ezra turned a glare on him that was clearly meant to shut him up. “Your opinion isn’t necessary on that particular subject.”
“Just sayin’,” Killian muttered. “We all leave for a reason.”
Ezra ignored him. “Thank you for your time, Kaya. I’m going to review my notes, discuss the meal with my associates and when the interview process is completed, I’ll let you know what I decide.”
My mouth went dry and I resisted the urge to chew on my lip ring. “Thank you. And thanks for this opportunity. I appreciate it.”
I turned and walked to the kitchen. Keeping my pace even until I was out of sight, I held my chin up and managed to keep it from wobbling. As soon as the door swung shut behind me, I collapsed against the counter and let out a shaky breath.
“Hey superstar!” Molly called across the kitchen from where she stood with Vera.
I looked up and resisted the urge to beg her to make Ezra give me the job. Instead, I smiled, even if it was trembling, and said, “Congratulations, Molls! Engaged!”
We met each other in the middle of the kitchen and hugged. It was short a short hug though, because I needed to grab her hand and check out her gigantic ring.
“A pearl?”
“My choice,” she explained. “I’m not a fan of diamonds.”
“It’s gorgeous. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m so happy for you!” she countered. “There are so many rumors flying around about you right now, I don’t which one to grill you on first.”
“Wyatt!” Vera shouted. “She’s banging Wyatt!”
“Oh my God.” If my cheeks hadn’t already been the color of raspberries, they would have quickly blazed with embarrassment. “That’s not true.”
Molly pulled back, confused. “You’re saving yourselves for marriage?”
“No, I mean… Yes? I mean, fine. We’re banging. But that’s not all we’re doing. We’re also dating. In like an actual relationship. With real commitment.”
Molly turned back to Vera, her long dark hair whipping me in the face. “Did you hear that, Vere? They’re in an actual relationship with real commitment and everything.”
“You guys are the worst.” I laughed. “And the meanest! I’m a wreck right now. It’s unfair to pick on someone so emotionally fragile.”
“There’s that too!” Molly squealed. “You’re taking over Sarita? That’s so exciting!”
“Er, no. Again, your facts are wrong. I feel like you would have made a terrible PI, Molly.”
“You’ve never seen me Facebook stalk someone,” she countered seriously. “I can find anybody on the internet. I mean, anybody.”
“It’s true,” Vera corroborated. “And also freakishly scary.”
“What I mean is that, I’m interviewing, but who knows who Ezra will pick. That man is an enigma.”
Molly laughed. “Hardly. Which is why I’m confident you’ll get the job.”
“We’ll see.” I sighed.
Vera waved her hand dismissively in the air. “You got this, champ. I didn’t raise no fool.” At Molly’s confused look, she added. “I’ve been mentoring her for the past few weeks. She’s amazing now.”
“She’s always been amazing.” Molly laughed.
“Also, mostly you just made me bus tables. There wasn’t a whole lot of mentoring going on.”
Vera waved a butcher knife at me. “I mentored the shit out of you. I want full credit when you get the job.”
“I’ve missed so much,” Molly lamented.
“Well, that’s what happens when you go on vacation for six years,” Vera snapped back.
“Tell me all about it though! Vera and I will never get a vacation like that. I want to know every single detail. I mean, did you read any good books? Or take any naps? Explain in detail to me what it was like to take a nap. I can’t remember.”
She rolled her eyes, but thankfully launched into the story of what it was like to relax while I cleaned everything up from my day of cooking. She sat with me for over an hour until her fiancé realized she was hanging out in the kitchen and came to haul her out.
“Molly,” Ezra growled her name upon entering the kitchen.
She hopped off the counter where she’d been happily chirping every detail of their Virgin Island getaway. “I just got here!” She winked at me and hurried from the kitchen. “I’ll put in a good word for you, Kaya!”
Ezra stared at the swinging door in horrified awe of the woman he loved. “I don’t know what to do with her.”
I pressed my lips together and decided not to comment.
To me, he said, “I just wanted to thank you again, Kaya. You really impressed me today.”
Setting my roll of knives down, I accepted the hand he’d extended toward me. “Thank you for the opportunity, Ezra. It would be a dream come true to run Sarita’s kitchen.”
He smiled, real affection for his restaurant shining through. “Do you have your references? I mainly need the one from Wyatt.”
Clearing my throat, I pulled out the sealed envelope from my purse. Wyatt had given it to me yesterday. We’d discussed what to do about our relationship and if Ezra really needed to know that we were dating. Honesty was always the best policy, but our relationship was so new. It hardly seemed fair to compromise Sarita because of my love life.
And yet, given the choice, I knew I would pick Wyatt. Sarita was important to me, yes. But Wyatt was everything to me.
Staring at Ezra’s polished shoes, I confessed, “You should know that Wyatt and I made our relationship official this week. We’re dating.”
His silence said more than words ever could. Especially when he finally spoke, it was a stilted “Oh.”
Lifting my head to at least pretend I had courage, I quickly explained, “I realize this might affect your decision, but I wanted to let you know anyway. Wyatt and I have worked together for the last five years and I feel as though his opinion of me will remain objective, but we’ve also had feelings for each other for a while.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “I know.”
It was my turn to say, “Oh.”
He smiled at me and I was taken aback so strongly I nearly lost my balance. “I might not have known about your feelings for him. But it’s no secret he’s been harboring a crush on you for ages. That said, if he’s written his recommendation with hearts over the I’s, I’m going to ask you to find someone else.”
I laughed, and it felt real and genuine and so light. “Thanks, Ezra.”
“Be good to him,” he ordered. “He’s as persnickety as they come, but he cares about you, Kaya.”
“I care about him too,” I said honestly, my body warming with just the thought of him.
“Good to hear.” He patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll talk soon.”
I went straight to Lilou after I left Sarita. I had to see him. Today had been crazy and all I wanted was Wyatt and his arms around me.
I was dressed for work because I’d worn my usual coat and black pants to interview today. Driving like a maniac, I slammed my car into an employee parking spot and snuck in through the side door of Lilou. Nobody noticed me. They were too busy with what they were doing.
Dinner service had just started, and the crash and clatter of the kitchen filled my ears immediately. I paused just inside the door to watch the beautiful chaos that defined my life. Rarely did I take a moment to savor the hustle and bustle. I was always a part of it, swept up in the movement and focus.
Everything felt familiar and foreign at the same time. I watched Dillon throw things in a pan and whisk furiously at the sauce just beginning to simmer. Benny stood over a huge rib roast, slicing off ribeyes to order. Endo hurried back and forth as he kept his dishwashers and bussers in line. Charlie murdered duck after duck after duck.
Wyatt really needed to fire him.
My gaze fell on my boyfriend and even in my head the word felt strange. But it also felt like not enough. After all these years, it was bizarre to think of Wyatt, my one-time nemesis, my one-time friend, as my boyfriend. The word and description felt juvenile, immature… lacking.
He was so much more than a boyfriend. He was my rock. He kept me grounded when all I wanted to do was fly off the handle. He was the man that had healed me and saved me from myself. He challenged me, always pushing me to get better, and be better. He made me want better things. He was my heart and my hope and my future.
And what we had together wasn’t just a relationship, it was the beginning of something so beautiful my heart felt like it could burst.
I had never been in a relationship that felt so perfectly right. Not that we were perfect. We couldn’t have been further from it. We still bickered and argued. We were still constantly trying to one up the other. But that only made our story more incredible.
My past had damaged me in a way I hated to admit. Nolan’s dismissal of what I thought had been love had gouged my self-worth with an icepick. He’d made me feel less than, unwanted. He’d broken me.
Wyatt did the opposite. He filled in those holes in my chest and promised he would keep filling them in for as long as I needed him. He didn’t let distance scare him or allow change to get in our way. He embraced our differences and cherished the person that I was. He made me feel loved and worthy and wanted. He healed me.
Our love healed me.
I watched him lean over a plate as he worked the finer details and garnishes, and then he wiped the edge of the plate with a towel. His profile was cast in bright light from above, sharpening his jawline and nose, highlighting his masculine cheekbone and the shaved side of his head. His tall toque stood at attention, and his crisp jacket hugged the lines of his muscular body. I watched his steady hands slash sauce over the protein and then delicately sprinkle microgreens, turning an ordinary looking dish into a work of art.
I was so lucky to know him. Not just because I loved him, but because he was so good at what he did, so dedicated to perfecting his craft and being the best possible chef out there. I had never met a man I respected and loved more.
And I knew going forward, no matter how mad he made me, I still would never meet another man that could compare to him.
Feeling my gaze on him, he passed the plate to a server and turned to face me. His mouth split into that breath-stealing grin and he cocked his head in wonder. “How’d you do?” he asked without saying hello.
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Did you kick ass?” he asked.
Nibbling on my lip ring, I shrugged both shoulders this time. “Hopefully.”
He started nodding and laughing. “Yeah, you kicked ass.”
His confidence in me burned a blush on my cheeks and I realized the whole kitchen had paused to watch us.
Wyatt jerked his chin and said, “Come here.”
It was that small command that ruined me. He’d stopped caring about his kitchen and the food piling up in front of him. He didn’t notice his staff watching us or the clamor of diners on the other side of the in and out doors. All he saw was me.
All he wanted was me.
And so I did what any sane, rational girl would do. I ran to him, leaped into his arms, and let him catch me.
His arms wrapped around my legs and held me there as our mouths crashed together. We kissed like we always kissed, desperately and voraciously and like we’d been waiting for this moment our entire lives. I held his face in my hands while I tasted him, butterflies swarming my belly and heat pooling between my legs.
God, how did he do this to me every single time? Would it always be like this?
Yes, I instinctively knew. Yes, with Wyatt, I would always want him this badly and love him this madly and drive him this crazy. And he would do the same to me.
The kitchen erupted with whoops and hollers and lewd suggestions. We pulled apart and smiled at each other.
“I love you, chef,” I whispered to him.
His eyes darkened, and he squeezed my ass. “I love you, Ky. Want to get out of here?”
“And go where?”
He set me down but pulled me against him immediately. “Anywhere.”
“What about the kitchen?”
“Fuck the kitchen,” he laughed. “We need to go celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
His smile twitched with mischief. “You finally quitting.”
“It’s not final yet!”
“A guy can hope.”
I laughed because he was ridiculous and funny and mine. “If we both leave, who will run service tonight?”
He turned his head and yelled, “Dillon, you’re in charge!”
“What?” was her shrieked reply.
Wyatt turned to Benny. “Can you help her out, man?”
Benny grinned. “My pleasure.”
“What?” Dillon repeated even louder.
I smiled at my friend. “I owe you one.”
She rolled her eyes and straightened her bandana. “You owe me at least ten.”
Wyatt pulled his hat off and tossed it at her. “Try not to set the place on fire.”
“No promises.” She swore under her breath.
Wyatt grabbed my hand and smiled at his staff. I was positive they all assumed he was having a stroke. He had never smiled this much at them ever.
I mean ever.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. “You’ve got twenty-four hours with Glinda the Good Witch but if you fuck anything up for her, you’re fired. See you tomorrow.”
Then he pulled me from the restaurant and we escaped into the night. We stripped out of our bandanas and chef coats and had a proper date in the sweaty clothes we had underneath. We laughed over street tacos and walked around downtown. Then we grabbed a few drinks at Craft, the bar that Killian had been poaching for. Apparently, Wyatt knew the owners too.
At the end of the night, I followed him to his house in my car where we stripped out of the rest of our clothes and spent the entire night not arguing once.