Two Years Later

“Two foie gras quesadillas, two tofu curry meatloafs, and six macaroni and cheese samosas on the fly, ready in five!”

I call out the orders, my voice never wavering as chaos swirls around me like a tornado. I thrive in this, live for this, feed off the raw energy flying around the kitchen.

“Yes, chef!” My sous calls back to me, the entire galley moving at warp speed.

“Hey, lady, your boy just scored a three.” Blair points up at the television we have mounted to the wall in the gleaming white and stainless-steel kitchen of my restaurant, Elite.

Turning to watch, I see Colton’s lean, muscular, drop-dead gorgeous body on the screen. The camera zooms into his face, those eyes that I look into every morning completely focused as beads of sweat drip down his forehead.

Bloody hell, my bloke is beautiful.

“Yes, baby!” I cheer as he scores another two points on the television.

Someone claps, one of the sous chefs, and I snap back into boss mode, scowling. “All right, enough slacking. Get me those plates in the window!”

When Colton got the call to join his current team in New York, I hadn’t hesitated in the slightest in telling him to go. We both knew I couldn’t join him, not right away, but I would have never gotten in the way of his greatest dream.

When I’d said that, he countered and told me that I was his greatest dream, and that someday he’d make an honest woman out of me.

Someday was only three months away now, my beautiful emerald engagement ring flashing on my left hand as I examine the plates, checking for any swab of sauce out of place.

Colton had proposed the night I’d arrived in New York as its newest permanent resident, just about a year and a half ago. I’d stayed in Paris for six of the loneliest months of my life to stay at Bon Amor and gain some street credit for my cooking skills. And then, when I couldn’t stand to be away from Colton another moment, I enlisted the help of my father to help me build my restaurant.

Sure, people could say I’d had it easy in this business because I had a rich daddy who funded me. And it was true, I had never had trouble with investors or wondering where the next installment of funding was going to come from. But I worked bloody hard, fought tooth and nail for every good review I, and Elite, had earned. And it was fast becoming one of the hottest spots in Tribeca. It wasn’t easy, and I worked longer hours than most anyone I knew, but I absolutely loved it.

“Do you want me to make you an espresso? You’re going to need all the energy you can get.” Blair raises an eyebrow at me.

I poached her six months ago from the restaurant she was working at, not having to work hard to convince her to come run my bar staff. She had full access to buy whatever wine and liquor she wanted, as well as work up the drinks menu. She was fantastic, and our signature alcohol concoctions were one of the most raved about parts of Elite.

I nod, knowing I’ll need it too. “Yes, please. Our flight leaves right after closing here, and we’ll be on a time change on the West Coast.”

I’m flying with Colton overnight to his next series of games in California. It will be the first three days I’ve taken off from the restaurant since its opening, but I’m excited for the road trip with my fiancé. Even if he’ll be playing two games in the course of seventy-two hours, it will give me time to go over every final detail with our wedding planner.

And have my dress fitted again.

I sigh, dreaming about the resort in Ojai we booked for our wedding weekend. Nestled on a cliff overlooking the ocean, serene and out of the way of any business. The day would be a small collection of people who meant the most to us.

Colton told me that he wanted me to have whatever I wanted. I’d told him that I could have gotten married in a flour sack for all I cared. The only thing that meant a damn was that I was getting to marry that giant, handsome man.

And okay, the fact that I was wearing a stunning Carolina Herrera wedding dress didn’t hurt either.

I’d spent a good portion of this year planning our wedding, but not obsessing over every detail. No, I cherished picking out the decor, writing my vows, and especially taste testing the food. The day would be a complete representation of us … complete with the replica Michael Jordan jersey groom’s cake that I was surprising Colton with.

At one point in my life, being one of the privileged meant almost everything. It was the way I measured my worth, a world that held mystery, status and wealth was the basis for how I operated. And even though both the man I loved and I were now in career paths where we were recognized fairly often, or written about in the papers, I’d grown to pretty much ignore, and even shun, the popularity and praise.

Meeting Colton, and experiencing the things we had gone through together in the last four years, had changed me. Yes, I was still a little cynical and a lot sarcastic, but I was no longer that wild thing I once was. I knew now that needing someone didn’t mean being dependent on them. I could still have my interests and freedom, and at the same time be completely in love with a man and want to spend my life with him.

And that was how our life was going to be. Just like magnets, we could be opposites. One of us could be on one side of the country winning a basketball game, while the other was barking orders late into the night in a five-star kitchen.

But at the end of the day, we were always pulled right back together. Two sides of the same object, attracted to each other by the mutual love we shared.