You know what’s crazy? Holding hands with RYAN HENDERSON in public! I don’t know why that fact is striking me more than making out with him in private. Forget the fact that our mouths have touched; Ryan lacing his fingers with mine while we walk into his work is the most exciting feeling in the world.
I have the greatest urge to hold our clasped hands in the air like I just won a boxing match and yell, “I’M HOLDING RYAN’S HAND!!!” at the top of my lungs for all of Chicago to hear.
And I act on that urge.
“Shhh, you loon,” Ryan says, yanking our hands back down.
He makes me promise I’ll behave when we go into the restaurant, and I agree, but only because I have one hand behind my back, fingers crossed. I’ll do as I see fit once we get in there.
When we step into the kitchen, a hush falls over it. It’s equal parts reverence and fear. Ryan’s dark eyes slide over every surface, and the entire staff waits with bated breath. I had no idea Ryan struck this kind of fear in people (clearly, they didn’t know him during his saggy-jeans-and-green-leprechaun-boxer phase). But I’m not going to lie; it’s sexy as all get out holding hands with the man that’s making the poor guy in the corner tremble in his stained apron.
I glance up and see the beautiful severe lines on Ryan’s face and savor that I get to be on this side of his life now. The side that knows how many crinkles live beside his eyes when he smiles and that his dimple only pops when he is really and truly happy.
“Chef, you’re back,” says a woman stepping forward before her troop. Her eyes slide from Ryan to me and down to our hands. Her face softens a little—almost as if she’s relieved to see our interlaced fingers. I like her immediately.
“Not officially,” he says, the new stern quality to his voice a little shocking to me. It sends a happy little chill dancing down my spine, and I can’t wait to see what happens next. “I just wanted to stop by, see how the kitchen is running, and show June around.” He squeezes my hand, and for a brief moment, his severity slides away, and he’s just Ryan again. “Nia, this is June. June, Nia is my sous chef. And an incredible one at that.”
Judging by the way Nia’s face beams from Ryan’s praise, I don’t think it’s a usual occurrence for him to dish it out.
For the next ten minutes, I follow beside Ryan as we walk around the kitchen. Everyone quakes, and no one escapes Ryan’s notice. “Tim, you hungover? Don’t let that happen tomorrow or you’re out of my kitchen. Sanders, tell me you’ve not been scorching my sauce like this the whole time I’ve been gone.” He’s ruthless.
“You,” he says, pointing to a wide-eyed young guy. “I don’t even know your name, but if you keep chopping at the pace of a snail, those orders won’t be out until Christmas. Don’t mess it up.” Actually, I cleaned up his language a bit. Turns out, Ryan has a real potty mouth in the kitchen.
It’s Top Chef in here. High-stakes cooking, and if you’re good, you go on to the next round. If you’re bad…I don’t know, maybe you just keel over and die? It feels that way by the fear radiating off of these people.
As much as I’m enjoying this live episode, I can’t help but notice Ryan never once smiles in here like he did in my donut shop. But I don’t know. Maybe that’s just the way things go in the chef world. What I do know is how happy I am to be on this side of Ryan’s wrath.
A few minutes later, we follow Nia out of the kitchen, and while she and Ryan are talking shop in the hallway, I slip off to use the bathroom. On my way back, I peek my head into the kitchen again.
“Hey! Y’all are doing great! Keep at it!” I offer my encouraging speech with a big cheesy grin and a thumbs up. I feel really good about my contribution to the staff morale until I exit the kitchen and find Ryan’s lifted brow and smirk aimed at me.
“Did you just pep talk my staff?”
My eyes go wide. “Never. No. I was just giving that guy some pointers on the sauce.”
“Mmhmm. I’m getting you out of here before you have them all holding hands and singing campfire songs.”
“Oooh, that sounds fun! Do you think they’d do it?”
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple. “Maybe next time. We’ve got a date to get ready for.”
My stomach dips at his words. I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that Ryan has been dragging this out for so long that I’m sure he’s got something spectacular planned. A man does not haul a woman all the way to another state for a mediocre date.
“Oh, so are you taking her to the opening tonight, then?” asks Nia.
“Opening?” I ask Ryan.
He looks down at me. “That’s not the date I have planned. She’s talking about a restaurant opening of one of my old friends from culinary school.”
“Oh, let’s go, then! If it’s your friend’s restaurant, you should be there to support him.”
Ryan studies my face with furrowed brows, trying to find any hints of a lie. “You sure?”
I poke him in the cheek, ready for him to stop looking so serious. “Why wouldn’t I be? Sounds like a fun night out.”
He looks back up to Nia. “Alright, looks like we’ll see you there.”
There’s something about hearing the word we that makes me tingle.
They say their goodbyes, and when Ryan and I are both situated in his truck again, he leans over the console and kisses me. Just as I start to taste the mint in his mouth, he pulls away and smiles. “Are you ready for that date now?”
My heart hammers against my chest. For some reason, I thought the opening tonight would mean postponing the date. I like this option much better.
We get back to Ryan’s place to get ready for this mystery date, and before we part in the hall, he says, “Wear whatever makes you feel most like a sexy lady.”
I have no idea what that means. It’s not a very helpful statement—not to mention a little odd—and leaves me more confused than before he said it. I tried to pry a few more questions out of him, but he just buttoned his lips with a smirk and went into his room. He shut the door; otherwise, I would have watched him dress for no other reason than to get an idea of what to wear myself. NO OTHER REASON.
I open the top drawer of the dresser where I unpacked my clothes, and my eye catches on the I HEART NICK socks my mama bought me. My heart twists. It’s time to tell her the truth. She deserves to know.
Without giving any time to talk myself out of it, I grab my phone, flop myself back on the bed, and dial Mama. It rings three times before she answers. “Hi, sugar! I was just thinking about—”
“Mama. Ben cheated on me!” I blurt it out in one big rush, like a balloon that’s had its end cut off. “I found out just before the wedding. That’s why I called it off.”
There’s a stunned silence for a minute, and I shut my eyes, worried that she’s upset with me for keeping this from her for so long.
And then I hear the three words I was not expecting. “We know, darlin’.”
I peek my eyes open, my shoulders relaxing against the mattress. “You knew?”
This time, I hear the a cappella choir of my giant family. “Yep!”
I shoot up in bed. “Why am I hearing ten annoying voices?”
“Because we’re all together and had ya on speaker when you called,” says Mama.
“Hi, baby sis!” That’s Jake, and he’s grinning ear to ear; I can hear it in his voice.
“Having fun in Chicago?” Evie said that.
“Alright, y’all skedaddle. I don’t think June meant for everyone to hear that declaration.” Thank you, Mama.
“Okay, we’re going. But, June, we all already knew about Ben. So, there’s nothing to feel weird about,” says Jake, his voice slipping further away.
I sigh. Nothing to feel weird about? Nothing other than my family all knowing my giant secret for five years and pretending they didn’t know!
“Okay, baby, we’re alone now. I’m sorry you were on speaker, but I had no idea you were going to blurt your heart out like that.”
“It’s okay,” I say, feeling tired for some reason. Probably because I just dropped the heavy secret I’ve been carrying around for too long. “You all knew? For how long?”
“Since the day you called off the wedding.”
“WHAT!”
“Well, thank you for that. Now I’m going to need a hearing aid prematurely.”
“Mama, how in the world did you know?”
She’s quiet for a second, and I imagine she’s scrunching her nose up in contemplation. “Are you sure you wanna know?”
“Yes.”
“When we saw how upset you were but unwilling to talk about it, Jake and your daddy went to Ben’s house to find out the truth.” Those little sneaks!
“And Ben told them everything?” That surprises me.
“Well…not until Jake grabbed him by the collar and pinned him up against the wall. Then, he was happy to spill his beans. Poor guy, though. Jake still bloodied his nose.”
I let out a breath of air that’s somewhere between a laugh and an exhale. I wish I had been there to see my big brother punch the living daylights out of Ben. Maybe it would’ve helped me heal a little faster knowing that Ben wasn’t completely getting away with his crap. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys knew? Why let this go on for so long?”
“Darlin’, we all knew this was something you needed to feel on your own and sort through in your own time. I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. We’re here to support you and love you, not smother you.”
Great, now I’m crying again. “Thank you, Mama. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Oh, phooey. It took you just the right amount of time. Some of us need to live through the healing rather than talk through it.”
I smile, wishing I was near her to let her wrap me up in one of her hugs. “Have you ever thought about writing fortune cookies?”
“Are you getting smart with me?”
“Never. I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, Sugar. Now, tell me, is Ryan being good to you?”
My eyes drift toward the closed door as I think back over all the tenderness Ryan has shown me. “I’ve never felt so cherished.”
“Good, ‘cause I like that boy, and I’d hate for Jake to mess up that pretty nose of his.”
I sputter a laugh. “Me too.”
After a few minutes, I tell Mama I’ve got to run so I can get ready for my date. It’s hard to put into words the way I feel after hanging up with her, knowing what all my family has done for me over the past five years. I feel like someone has injected something warm and gooey into my heart of stone.
Knowing that Ryan is probably waiting on me, I quickly change into an outfit that makes me feel like a sexy lady (a soft cream sweater, high-waisted jeans, and my hair curled in long waves). I step out of my room and find Ryan in the hallway, wearing a suit—one that makes my mouth drop open and drag across the floor as I turn a circle and start to back up into my room to change.
“Whoa, come back here.” He grabs my arms and tugs me around.
Yep. He’s just as blinding the second time I see him as the first. His suit is dark gray and fits him like a glove. Underneath the suit jacket of my dreams is a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, giving him a just-got-off-work-from-my-super-prestigious-job look. I will dream of him in this outfit every night for the rest of the month.
“You are way dressier than me,” I say, dismay drenching my tone.
His smile deepens, and he pulls me in close to him. I can smell his cologne. It’s smooth like expensive bourbon, and I drink him in. I’m getting drunk off it.
“You look perfect,” he says against my cheek.
I want to say thank you, but instead, some little mouse speaks. It can’t be me because the voice is too high-pitched and embarrassing.
Ryan kisses my cheek and holds out his arm for me to take. We look like a couple going to prom in this pose, but I don’t care. It actually just makes me wish Ryan had been the one to take me to prom. Wearing this suit. And drenched in this cologne. Never mind, I would have become a teen mom.
In the living room, Ryan stops. I thought we would head for the door, but instead, he’s turning us toward the living room. That’s when I spot cheap Chinese takeout on the coffee table and My Best Friend’s Wedding queued up on the TV. He’s poured us two glasses of wine, and it almost looks as if this is where we are having our date.
Now, I don’t mean to be one of those snobby girls who demands a fine-dining experience for their dates, but I really expected something more captivating than fried rice and a chick flick.
“Your face right now is priceless.”
Ryan’s words sink in, and a relieved smile splits across my mouth. I look up at him, laughing. “OH! This was a joke. Whew. You got me. I really thought—” I break off when Ryan’s grin doesn’t turn into a laugh with me. “Oh, gosh. It’s not a joke, is it?”
He shakes his sexy head no, and I want to melt into the earth. My face turns into lava as I begin to extract my foot from my mouth. Racing over to the coffee table, I cradle the Chinese food in my hands like it’s a delicate peace offering given to me from a foreign leader. It’s sacred. I will treasure it forever. “This is…perfect! Just perfect!”
Ryan is still standing in his same spot, wearing his same smirk, but with his hands in his pockets. Someone should take a picture of him and send it to Vogue. He’s gorgeous, and I don’t want to lose him. I plop down onto the offensive couch and manage to not even wince a little when it bruises my rear.
I pat the seat next to me with an overly bright smile. “Let’s get this date going.”
Now he’s shaking his head at me. I’m the silliest thing he’s ever seen.
Ryan walks over to me. “Set the food down, June.” I wish he wasn’t so confident all the time. He’s the one who planned a terrible first date, and yet, I’m the one that wants to crawl under the table. Ryan extends his hand, and I take it, standing up. He puts both of his hands on my jaw and bends down to kiss me slowly. Smoothly. Tantalizingly.
I do melt into the floor this time.
I’m a dollop of Crisco dropped into a hot skillet. Ryan pulls away, and I see not hurt, not embarrassment, not sadness. A smile. “You don’t remember, do you?” he asks.
My stomach falls like it does in the middle of a thriller movie when I thought I had the plot all figured out, and then suddenly, it shifts.
I shake my head. “Remember what?”
“Our class trip to Chicago for our tenth-grade debate.”
“I remember the trip, but…” What does that have to do with anything?
Ryan shifts his arms around my waist. “We were all on the subway, headed back to our hotel, and I told you, Stacy, and Logan that Jennifer Summers had passed me a note saying she liked me. You rolled your eyes, so I accused you of being jealous.”
And just like that, I remember. I remember wanting to stomp across that subway car and rip that hussy’s hair out.
“You looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to date you, Ryan Henderson. Mark my words. One day, I will move to this city and date a sophisticated man and—'”
“I’ll be a sophisticated, sexy lady, and my man will pick up Chinese takeout after work and bring it back to our fancy apartment, and he’ll be wearing a fancy suit from his fancy job, and we will drink fancy wine and watch my favorite movie.” A laugh bubbles through me. “And then I told you that you could never be sophisticated like that.”
He’s chuckling too now. “As if Chinese takeout and fancy wine is the most sophisticated and grown-up thing in the world.”
I pull away from Ryan enough to look at our first date with new eyes. Eyes that are glistening and wet with unshed tears. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“I couldn’t forget it.”
I turn back to Ryan. “Wait. Did you move here because of that?” I ask.
“No. Believe it or not, I wasn’t at that epic level of pining. It was a happy coincidence that the best job offer happened to be here.”
“More than coincidence. Fate.” I’m smiling like a fool at my cheesy line, but I don’t care.
Ryan looks down at me and runs the backs of his knuckles against my jaw. “I would be lying, though, if I said I didn’t hope to run into you now and then, thinking that just maybe you would move here, and we’d be reunited in some tiny coffee shop at an odd hour.”
I reach up and clasp my hands behind his neck. “Such a romantic.”
“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”
“I’m having it printed in big letters on a billboard. Ryan Henderson is a romantic. It has a picture of you dressed in a cupid outfit below the words.”
He leans in and whispers over my mouth, “Just shut up and kiss me, you loon.”
And oh boy, do I.
The Chinese food is forgotten, and Ryan and I make out during the whole movie. That couch somehow gets even more uncomfortable, but given these new memories I’ll have to associate with it, it grows on me.
“Wait,” I say, ripping my sore lips away from him.
He groans and drops his head down by my neck. “What?”
“You never told me about that potential job.”
“Huh?” he says and starts kissing my neck again. “It doesn’t matter.”
Au contraire, mon frère.
I push on Ryan’s big chest, but he doesn’t budge until he realizes I’m serious. He sits up and runs his hands through his wild hair. He takes in a deep breath and releases it. “It was a job for a new restaurant opening, and they wanted me to be the executive chef.”
“Was?”
He tilts his head to fix his dark eyes on me. “I turned it down.”
“What? Why?” I sound panicked, because I am.
Ryan scoots over by me again and takes my hand in his. “June, don’t freak out. I gave it a lot of thought. But when I went to the restaurant today, it just wasn’t a right fit for me. And besides, I’m moving to Charleston.”