Lindsay hadn’t stretched her culinary muscles in a while, but she was taking full advantage of Paige and Josh’s kitchen. It was a little too small and simple to be categorized as a chef’s kitchen, but it was double the size of the little kitchen in her own apartment. She’d never understood why so many Brooklyn landlords only put tiny kitchens in apartments. Did they think everyone used their ovens for storage like a Sex and the City character? If they were legally required to buy appliances anyway, would it really have put them out so much to build some dang counters? Lindsay’s kitchen at least had a single square foot of counter space, but she’d seen some apartments in her day that were little more than a cube fridge and an Easy-Bake Oven.
So, yeah, she was jealous that Paige and Josh could afford a place with a kitchen this nice, especially since, given how clean everything was, they hardly ever cooked or else had a really good cleaning lady.
Paige’s big, fluffy white cat sat on the counter, close enough to the platters Lindsay had set out that she was worried cat hair would get in the food. The other cat, George, was hanging out on the floor as if he expected Lindsay to drop food for him to eat.
“You are SOL, little guy,” Lindsay told the cat.
“How’s it going?” asked Paige from the sofa. The kitchen and living room were one large space in this apartment, so Paige was watching some home-renovation show while sitting in reserve in case Lindsay needed help.
“Fine. We’ve got artichoke dip with veggies, three kinds of sliders, salad, veggie slaw, and french fries. And I never want to chop another vegetable for the rest of my life. Also, your cats are trying to steal food.”
Paige laughed and stood up. “All right, guys. You have to hang out in the bedroom for a bit.” It took some work, but Paige managed to shoo both cats into the bedroom and shut the door. “There are chips in the cabinet next to the fridge, too.”
“Cool.” Lindsay had arranged the slider patties on a plate, ready to go on the griddle as soon as people started arriving. She’d made beef, turkey, and vegetarian patties. She’d wanted finger food that would fill people up.
“So tell me,” Paige said, walking over to look at what Lindsay had laid out. “You invited Brad. Is he bringing dessert?”
“He said something about cookies.”
“And how are things going between you?”
Lindsay shrugged. “Awkward. When I called to invite him tonight, he said no at first. I think he’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
Lindsay sighed. “We had a fight the other night. He wants me to put up or shut up.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wants to get back together, but I haven’t decided, and I think he’s tired of waiting.”
“Ah, okay.” Paige nodded like she understood exactly what this situation was. “But he is coming, right? Because I didn’t buy anything sweet, figuring he’d bring dessert.”
Lindsay laughed. Paige had priorities. “Yes, he’s coming. I convinced him by pointing out that the episode he won is airing right after mine. And he’s mad at me, but he still likes the rest of you.”
The party was a viewing party for Lindsay’s first episode of Mystery Meal. Lindsay was not especially excited to see herself on TV, but her friends had insisted on this party. She figured if anything got too mortifying, she could busy herself in the kitchen.
Josh came out of the office holding two chairs. “Do we have enough seating?” he asked.
“People can sit on the floor,” said Paige. “That rug is pretty soft.”
Josh set up the chairs and stood back to look at the seating area. He and Paige had a sofa and a couple of armchairs, and he’d just added a couple of padded folding chairs that must have been in a closet.
“I’m gonna get those big throw pillows. Maybe people can sit on those.” Josh turned to go into the bedroom.
“The cats are in there,” said Paige.
Josh grimaced and then slowly opened the door. “No, no. Stay in there, Houdini,” he said. Then he closed the door softly.
Paige grinned. “He’s cute when he’s fretting about an event.”
“I thought that was your job.”
“Normally it would be, but he insisted on planning this since I’ve been so preoccupied by the wedding. He thinks he’s doing me a favor. I love planning events, but this is just people I like, so it’s low stakes.”
“Not much for him to mess up, in other words.”
Paige shrugged. Her intercom buzzed, so Lindsay put her attention back on the party food while Paige went to answer the door. Lauren and Caleb arrived a moment later, with little Hannah in her stroller. With practiced ease, Caleb lifted the detachable baby seat out of the stroller and Lauren folded the stroller frame and shoved it out of the way in a corner.
Lindsay walked over to say hello and made baby noises at Hannah, which got her a big smile in response. That little girl was one cute baby, all big eyes and wispy hair.
Evan arrived with a flourish a few minutes later.
“It’s done!” he said, plunking a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. “Will and I are no more.”
“Aw,” said Lindsay. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. The really sad thing is that he didn’t seem heartbroken,” said Evan. He flopped onto the sofa. “He seemed to expect it. So I guess I’m on the market again.”
Lauren picked up Hannah and sat next to Evan on the sofa. “Other fish,” she said.
“Oh, sure. You’re a smug married now. Paige is going to have what I have no doubt will be the perfect wedding. Even Lindsay has an ‘It’s Complicated’ with Brad. And here I am, all alone.”
Lauren jostled Hannah in her lap and said, “I’m sorry you broke up with Will. Breakups always suck. But you have a lot going for you, Ev. You’re cute, you’re successful, and you have excellent taste in friends. I have no doubt your Mr. Right is out there somewhere.”
“You can always ask out Pablo,” said Lindsay. “He’s single again, remember?”
“You should understand by now that Pablo is a symbol,” said Evan. “He’s the living embodiment of everything I want but can’t have. I can’t ask him out now. I’ve been obsessing over him for so long that he will inevitably let me down.”
“That’s cheery,” said Lauren. “But buck up, camper, because this is a party for Lindsay. We’re celebrating tonight, not wallowing.”
“If this is a party for Lindsay, why is she doing all the cooking?”
“Is there anyone else here who you’d prefer to have cook?” Lindsay asked.
Evan made a show of looking around. “Okay, fair point.”
Lindsay got the first batch of sliders on the griddle and so didn’t hear the intercom or know anyone had arrived until Brad was carrying a huge Tupperware bin full of cookies into the kitchen.
His arrival made Lindsay’s pulse spike.
She decided to focus on her little hamburgers. The patties were small enough that they cooked superfast, so she had to keep an eye on them. As she flipped over the first batch, Brad said, “Hi, Linds.”
“Hi.”
“I didn’t know how many people would be here, so I made three batches of cookies.”
“Probably more than we need, but I’m sure we can find people to eat them. Probably Evan. He just broke up with Will, so he may be wanting to eat his feelings.”
Brad turned toward Evan. “Sorry to hear that, man.”
Evan waved his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”
Brad tilted his head like he didn’t understand that and then turned back to Lindsay. “You need help with anything?”
“Nah, go sit. I’ve got this under control.”
She probably could have used another set of hands as she started placing little burger patties on the buns she’d already set out. But she didn’t want Brad hovering around her, especially not with how things were between them right then. They’d hardly talked at all in two weeks. When she’d called to invite him, his tone was decidedly I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed, and Lindsay hated that she’d made Brad feel that way. He had every right to be mad, and she knew that.
“T-minus ten minutes,” Paige said, turning on the TV and navigating to the Food Channel.
Lindsay set out a tray of sliders on the kitchen table with the other food she’d already prepared. “Help yourself, everyone.”
She made a plate for herself after explaining which sliders were which, and then walked over to the living room area to find a seat.
Paige pointed to the center of the sofa. “I believe that’s the captain’s chair.”
“I don’t know if I really want to be front and center to watch myself on TV.”
“Take one of the armchairs, then. You should at least have a comfortable seat after all that cooking.”
And so, Evan, Lauren, and Caleb ended up on the couch, Lindsay and Brad each got an armchair, and Josh insisted he and Paige could sit on the folding chairs since the guests should have had the comfortable seats.
The show came on shortly after everyone settled. Caleb and Lauren handed Hannah back and forth so they could take turns eating without an infant trying to steal their food, although Lindsay caught Caleb sneaking Hannah little bits of cheese.
Caleb was a good dad, Lindsay reflected as she tried not to see her face on the TV. Hannah wore a pink dress with ruffles, an interesting contrast to Caleb’s rougher edges. He had on a blue T-shirt with his veterinary clinic logo and jeans, and Lauren was similarly dressed in mom attire of a purple tunic and leggings, but they looked perfectly content holding their baby.
She heard herself make a dumb joke about skirt steak on screen and shook her head.
Luckily, most of the episode focused on the chefs and what they were up to. The camera panned over the chefs chopping and blending and sautéing. Lindsay did actually find this kind of thing interesting; she still had enough of her culinary schooling in her to appreciate good knife work and nice plating.
At the commercial, she said, “I couldn’t see most of this from where I was sitting. I mean, I could see that the chefs were working, but not close up like this.”
“My French technique teacher would have some things to say about Chef Allen’s knife skills,” Brad said, gesturing at the TV.
“Yeah, his work is a little sloppy,” said Lindsay. “Tasted good, though.”
“I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to judge a show like this,” said Caleb. “I don’t really know anything more advanced than ‘this tastes good’ or ‘this tastes bad,’ so I probably wouldn’t make good TV, but to taste a meal like that must be something.”
“On your next anniversary,” said Brad, “take Lauren to City Tavern on Essex on the Lower East Side. I know a chef there and can probably finagle a table for you to try the tasting menu. I promise you will not be disappointed. They do all kinds of experimental food there, but the executive chef is at the top of his game, and everything is delicious.”
Lindsay was conscious of the fact that Brad was watching her, but she rolled her eyes anyway. “Brad knows everyone.”
“What?” said Brad. “I mean, I do, but in this case, I worked with the pastry chef at Milk Bar, and she introduced me to the executive chef. City Tavern is basically new takes on very old dishes, but it’s excellent.”
“If you find me a reliable babysitter,” Lauren said, “that sounds delightful.”
The show came back on for the judging portion of the first round. Lindsay mostly looked at the floor because looking at the screen seemed to make every flaw apparent. She had one flyaway bit of hair the hairdresser had failed to tame. Her mascara was a little smudgy on her left eye. But that was fairly minor. Her voice was what grated on her. Did she really sound that nasal?
On screen, Ben Hawthorne said, “And the chefs moving to the next round are…” before the show crashed too commercial again.
“Hearing you talk about food is wild,” said Josh. “I had no idea you were so knowledgeable.”
“I did go to culinary school.”
“The sliders are amazing, Linds,” said Evan. “Even the veggie ones. Did you use that weird, pink fake-meat stuff?”
“I did. It cooks up quite nicely. No one will ever convince me it’s beef, but I like using it for burgers. They’re lighter tasting than beef burgers.”
“What’s in the sauce?” Brad asked.
“Trade secret.”
Brad smirked and licked some sauce off the bun of one of his sliders. “Let’s see. Mayo base, I think. Something sweet, probably honey. No, maple syrup. Some kind of spice blend that is heavy on black pepper and paprika. And it’s got a bit of a kick, so…sriracha.”
“You’re just showing off,” said Lindsay.
Brad grinned. “It’s good sauce. I was asking for your recipe.”
“The show’s back on.”
After the segment of chefs making their second-round dishes with heavy cream, Lindsay turned to Brad and asked, “All right, Mr. Pastry. What would you make?”
“With heavy cream?” He considered. “Tres leches cake.”
“In a half hour?”
“Sure. If you make small cakes, they’ll bake in twenty minutes or less. I might make little cakes in ramekins and have them bake while I make the rest of the components.”
“Tres leches cake.” How very Brad to think up something fairly complicated and hard to pull off in half an hour. Lindsay thought he’d be able to do it, though.
Brad shrugged. “First thing that popped into my head. Also, as we’re about to see, I did win this damn show.”
When the episode ended and finally put Lindsay out of her misery, her friends all clapped.
“It is supremely weird seeing yourself on television,” Lindsay said.
“You did such a great job!” said Paige. “I’m not even just saying that. You sounded so smart. I don’t know anything about flavor profiles or Spanish cuisine, and I still found what you said in the skirt-steak round interesting.”
“Well, the second episode I judged airs in two weeks. You all can watch that one without me.”
“Oh, here comes Brad,” said Lauren.
Lindsay had seen the live feed of Brad’s episode, not the edited version. There was a talking-head interview with him where he name-dropped the cat café twice—Paige pumped her fist and said, “Yeah, baby,” each time he did—and then he made a lobster roll.
“I know it would kill Lindsay,” said Lauren, “but if you ever want to make lobster rolls for the rest of us, I’m first in line.”
“What was in the aioli?” Lindsay asked.
Brad winked. “Trade secret.”
“I saw egg, garlic, olive oil…pepper?”
“I threw a dash of Old Bay in there, too.”
After the commercial, they all watched Brad make the Mexican chocolate cupcakes.
“I can’t believe you won with a cupcake,” said Paige.
“I can’t believe he made cupcakes in half an hour.”
“The trick to this show seems to be timing,” said Brad. “I think that’s what tripped up some of the eliminated chefs. They didn’t manage their time well.”
An old episode of Champion Chef came on after Mystery Meal, and everyone kept chatting while they polished off the rest of Lindsay’s food.
Josh asked Paige, “Can we have sliders and french fries at the wedding?”
“No, darling. Seafood. The wedding is at a seafood restaurant.”
“Oh, right. Well, this was great, Lindsay. I’d eat three more sliders if there were any left.”
“There are still cookies,” Brad said, standing. “Chocolate chip, butter shortbread, and cinnamon molasses.”
“Oh, that last one sounds wonderful,” said Lauren.
“I created the recipe. I’m sure I’m not the first person who thought to put both cinnamon and molasses in a cookie, but I’ve spent some time perfecting these.”
“You can put those on the coffee table,” Paige said.
Brad got up to get the cookies, and Josh got up to let the cats out of the bedroom. Both zoomed out, but then got a good look at the crowd in the living room and ran back to the bedroom.
Brad walked back into the living room area with his bin of cookies. When he peeled the top off the container, the scent of cinnamon and sugar hit Lindsay’s nostrils.
In other words, Brad was hot, he was charming, and he knew how to make all kinds of confections. Lindsay had enough of a sweet tooth for this to make him an ideal mate. If she remembered correctly, he made a mean breakfast, too. Could they in some future live in an apartment with a big enough kitchen that they could spend weekend mornings eating his cream cheese–stuffed French toast at the island? Could they feed each other bacon and the latest of Brad’s experimental muffins?
Why was she resisting him so much?
Everyone protested being full and then gorged themselves on cookies. Hannah fell asleep in her father’s lap and he gently put her in her baby seat while he commandeered a plastic baggie to take even more of the cookies home.
It was a nice little family they’d all made. Caleb and Josh had been good additions to their friend group, both of them upstanding guys who clearly doted on their significant others. Caleb was serious and sometimes a little grouchy, but fatherhood had mellowed him out a little. Josh was upbeat and sometimes goofy, but he clearly thought Paige hung the moon. Would Brad do well with her friends, too? He’d fit right in so far.
The longer the night wore on, the harder it was to remember why she didn’t want to be with Brad.
Lauren and Caleb left the party first so they could get Hannah home and to bed. Evan left shortly thereafter, saying he had to get some work done before he could sleep. That left Lindsay and Paige cleaning up the kitchen when Brad offered to help. So Lindsay let him do the dishes.
And then, when everything was tidy again, Brad and Lindsay left. On the elevator ride back to the lobby, Lindsay said. “So, uh. Can we talk?”
“Sure,” said Brad, though he looked wary. “Where?”
“Let’s get a car to my place.”
***
Brad was not at all sure going home with Lindsay was a good idea, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no.
They were mostly silent in the car. It stopped in front of a nondescript brick building. Lindsay led him inside to her second-floor apartment, which was very pretty but very small. Lindsay had never struck him as excessively girlie, but the apartment had bright-white walls that she’d offset with pops of purple and pink in her furniture: purple throw pillows, pink curtains, and a big vase full of pink and purple gerbera daisies on the kitchen counter. The apartment wasn’t much more than a studio with a little sleeping alcove, but Lindsay had organized the space well, with a desk near the kitchen—the only surface with any clutter and probably the place Lindsay spent the most time—a sofa facing the TV, and her bed with a purple bedspread in the alcove.
“This is nice,” he said.
“It’s small. I’m not exactly raking it in as a food writer, although the job at the Forum came with a very nice raise.”
“Well, that’s something.”
A tuxedo cat who was on the small side trotted out to greet them. After the cat rubbed himself on Lindsay’s shins, he gave Brad a once-over.
“Hello there, fine fellow,” Brad said to the cat and immediately felt silly.
Lindsay didn’t seem to notice. “That’s Fred Astaire the cat.”
“Right, of course.” Brad knelt down to pat the cat’s head. Fred Astaire let himself be petted but eyed Brad the whole time like he didn’t trust him. Then he ran across the apartment and hopped up on Lindsay’s bed.
Lindsay said, “Look, I feel bad about how we ended things two weeks ago.”
Brad was suddenly exhausted. He was tired of trying to hash this out with her. He apparently couldn’t resist her enough to say no to coming to her place tonight, but he didn’t want to have the same fight again. So he decided to cut her off at the pass. “You trust me or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
She looked at him for a long time. “I’ve missed talking to you the last couple of weeks. It turns out I kind of got used to having you back in my life.”
“Lindsay…”
“I know, okay? I know what you need from me. You must realize now how hard that is. But I–I do trust you.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her. It felt a little strange for the tables to be turned in this way. Now she was telling him what he wanted to hear in order to get him to stay. But did she really mean it?
He sat on the sofa. His heart ached. He’d never been very good at being stoic or cutting off his emotions. He’d loved her fiercely once, he was falling in love with her again, and he wanted her in his life, but not if it was this fucking hard. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“What kind of future do we even have together? Say we do actually get back together. You’re always going to have an eye on me. I love spending time with you, but we also both have lives apart from each other, and I need you to trust that I will always come home to you. And if I have your trust, I will never abuse it, but I’m going to live my life, too. I’m going to network and talk to people and, yes, probably flirt. And you need to know that it doesn’t mean anything because you’re the most important person in my life.” He sighed, realizing what he’d just said. “Theoretically. And I’m going to fuck up and make mistakes, and you will too, but we can have adult conversations about those things rather than making assumptions based on old baggage and not on the reality in front of us.”
Lindsay looked a little surprised. She nodded slowly. “I’m getting there.”
“Okay. I want to get back together, but I’m tired of jumping through hoops for you.”
“What hoops?”
“If you don’t want to be with me, just say it, and I’ll go home and stop bothering you.”
“Brad, come on.”
He sat up straight and looked at her. She sat beside him on the sofa and looked at the floor.
“You come on, Linds. I’ve been throwing myself at you for weeks. I told you I wanted to get back together. You keep saying it didn’t work out before, so there’s no reason it will now. You don’t trust me, as illustrated by that night two weeks ago. So, fine, I’m done trying to get you back. You don’t want me, I’ll go.”
Lindsay pressed her lips together. Brad was about to get up and leave when she said, “Of course I want you back. Of course I do. We were in love once, and I think we could easily fall back into that, but… Getting over you was so hard that I never fully did, and now that you’re back in my life, I don’t want to let you go again, but I have to guard my heart.”
“Or you can open your heart and let me in again.”
She took a deep breath. “I want to. I want to trust you. I do trust you. I know you’d never cheat on me. I spent years convincing myself that you cheated on me with Phoebe, even when I knew deep down that wasn’t really true. But I needed you to be the bad guy because…if I walked away without that, I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You can fix that mistake.” Brad felt a small measure of hope. But it also felt precarious. There were still a lot of ways they could fuck this up.
Lindsay guarded her heart intensely. Being with Brad made her vulnerable because she had to push her guards aside. When she really did that, he knew they could find a way forward together, but he wasn’t sure she was really there yet.
“You saved my job,” Lindsay said. “You got me this great opportunity, and you told off a reporter in the process. You brought cupcakes to my office. How did I not see what you were doing?”
“I don’t know. I thought I was being obvious.”
She laughed softly. “That year we were together, we did have fun. I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”
“We could have that again. But you gotta meet me halfway. I hate feeling like you’re only with me because I finally wore you down.”
“That’s not what this is. I wanted you to come home with me tonight.”
He was tired of talking. “I should probably go home.” He stood.
“Brad, no. Don’t you hear what I’m saying? Spend the night with me. Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“No, I have the day off.”
“Then stay with me tonight.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you not trust me?”
He thought about it for a moment. “How do I know that you won’t just change your mind again tomorrow?”
“I won’t.” She stood and faced him. “Do you regret anything you’ve done in the last few weeks?”
“No.” And he didn’t. If he had it to do over, he would have called Aaron about getting her on the show. He would have slept with her every time it had happened, too. He’d regret it if he walked away tonight, but maybe it was for the best, because he still didn’t trust this and couldn’t read her mind.
But then she was kissing him. He caught her as she launched herself at him and put his hands on her waist. He held her there and succumbed to it, opened his mouth to let her in.
He was so stupid. She could slip through his fingers at any second.
But he kept kissing her because he couldn’t tear himself away.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him harder into the kiss. She pressed her body against his. She was ready to go, for sure, but was this a mistake?
Brad didn’t know, but he did know he didn’t want to stop kissing her.
“Stay with me tonight,” she said.
“Okay.”
He kissed her again and let her lead him to her bed, even while knowing this was probably the last time they’d ever be together.
***
Brad’s head rested on Lindsay’s chest, and she ran her fingers through his soft hair and sighed happily.
They’d made love. That was the only way she could describe it. She’d tried to use her body to convey how she felt, because lord knew she kept making a hash of verbalizing it. He’d gazed into her eyes as he moved inside her, and there had definitely been a moment when she’d felt everything. When her heart felt full and when she knew without a doubt that Brad wanted her even if he didn’t love her again…yet. She did trust him.
Because Brad had demonstrated, over and over again, that he wanted her, that he was willing to open his heart to her, that he was willing to risk everything blowing up again if only for sweet moments like tonight. It was Lindsay who kept herself closed off, who wasn’t willing to open up, who felt like she didn’t know how to trust another person with her heart.
She felt all in one amazing moment when their eyes met; she’d understood exactly how he felt and what he wanted from her. She wanted those same things from him. And it was on her now to prove it.
She knew her hold on this was not firm. As soon as the ecstasy was over, he’d seemed wary. And here they were, lying in her bed, and they hadn’t spoken for five whole minutes. Lindsay knew Brad was awake even though his face was turned away from hers. His breath was too erratic for sleep.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Okay.” There was wariness in his tone, like he expected not to like the question.
She sighed and considered how to word what she wanted to ask. “I understand full well that continuing to relive the past doesn’t do any good for us in the present, and that things are different now. But I just want to say this one thing.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.”
“Back in culinary school, I used to have this fantasy of opening a restaurant. I didn’t want to reinvent the wheel or anything, but I wanted to serve good food people liked and become one of those neighborhood places with regular customers. I mean, the kind of place that’s like… Well, there’s a bar up the street here and there’s nothing unique about it. They have an above-average beer selection and make a decent hamburger, but the decor is very thrift store, and I always figured the lighting was dim to hide a few sins I don’t want to know about. And, like, this bar has been there for twenty years, and it’s always packed on the weekends. All these trendy bars and restaurants have popped up around it and opened and closed, but this place is a neighborhood staple. That’s what I always wanted to create.”
“That’s a nice dream. It’s what we used to talk about.”
“Yeah. I used to imagine we owned this place together. And we were creative enough to put a few standout dishes on the menu to attract new guests. But I don’t need to do fine dining. A midprice restaurant with reliably good food and, well, a killer dessert menu. That’s what I wanted. And I figured we’d be one of those powerhouse couples. Like, you know, Dean and Stacia?”
Brad was silent for a beat before he said, “Yeah.”
Dean and Stacia Lang had become legends in the last decade for being a restaurant power couple. They’d each won TV chef competitions on their own. They’d owned a restaurant in Manhattan together for ten years and had recently started expanding to other cities. They had a dozen restaurants now. Plenty of people in culinary school had told Lindsay that there was no way two chefs could go into business together and also be together romantically. That was a lot of together time, wasn’t it? Wasn’t a couple like that bound to implode?
Not if they liked each other and had a solid business model.
She said, “Part of me thought we could be them. A solid couple who loved each other and loved the work they did together.”
“I can see that. Again, it’s a nice dream.”
“Did you never see that in our future?”
He rolled and held his head up to look at her. “I mean, back in culinary school, I didn’t think much past graduation. I assumed we’d be together, but I hadn’t given much thought to the future beyond that. Like, sure, sure, the restaurant we talked about back then, I saw that as part of the ten-year plan—well, the twenty-year plan—but it all felt hypothetical and not like a real plan.”
“And what about now?”
“Now, I don’t know. The cat café gig is temporary. I love it, but it’s not what I want to do forever. I mean, I wanted the opportunity to make my own menu, and I got that here, I proved to myself I could do it. Lauren’s letting me have fun for now, but I’m going to need to design a more regular menu. Once I’ve got all the recipes I want in place, there’s no reason the assistants or another pastry chef couldn’t come in and make those pastries. And then… I don’t know.”
“Do you want to open a bakery?”
“Not especially. Somehow, I miss French pastry. I’d been working up to executive pastry chef at a fine dining restaurant. That’s what I really want to do. The kinds of people who come to a bakery want the basics. They want vanilla birthday cakes and chocolate chip cookies, and there’s nothing wrong with those things, but they aren’t really challenging to me in a satisfying way. Figuring out how to make cat treats was actually really fun for me because it was a weird challenge. I like the idea of using unexpected ingredients, doing something a little avant-garde.”
As if he’d been summoned by Brad’s cat-related talk, Fred Astaire ran into the alcove and hopped up on the bed. He settled at Lindsay’s side and started purring, so Lindsay petted him.
“So you want to be innovative,” Lindsay said.
“Yeah. Or at least have discretion over what I make. Like, say I worked at your midprice neighborhood establishment. I’d have to make some dessert staples. Cheesecake, chocolate cake, a brownie sundae, that kind of thing. But I could have a couple of oddball things on the menu, too. And some of them wouldn’t even be that weird, because everyone watches those British baking shows on TV now.”
“Well, like I said, at this imaginary restaurant, we’d have to have a couple of unusual things to attract customers. Like, sure, we’d have to put a burger on the menu.”
“Or those sliders from tonight. Those were good. Did you use a recipe?”
“No. I just decided to make sliders and figured I’d have to do beef, turkey, and veggie and then flavored the meat accordingly. But you’re right. I could do a pork-belly slider and serve it Filipino style with some kind of salty-sweet sauce.”
“Filipino style?”
“Yeah. When I was in San Francisco last year, I ate at this Filipino fast food place that is apparently a California chain, but it was so good I went back twice. The trick is to combine flavors that shouldn’t go together but totally do, like taking something salty like fish sauce and combining it with something sweet like mango.”
“That does actually sound good.”
“Or, like, I want to try to re-create the cream sauce for seafood that the one chef used on the show tonight, because that tasted incredible.”
“So you’d have staples, but you’d apply your wide culinary knowledge to putting a spin on old classics, basically,” Brad said.
“Sure. And again, there are some things the masses want to see on the menu, and you include a few options for various diets. Put some vegan options on the menu, some gluten-free options. But don’t just put a salad or a vegan burger on there; figure out how to make something tasty that happens to be vegan.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I have.”
“Then why did you stop cooking?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? “Part of it was what we’ve talked about. I left school and couldn’t quite find a place that fit me. There weren’t a ton of jobs available, so I was working as a line cook, figuring I’d pay my dues and work my way up. But I hated the drudgery of firing the same dishes over and over.”
“Where were you working?”
“An upscale pub off Times Square. We made a lot of meals for tourists, so it had to be kind of bland and predictable. There was no creativity involved. Zillions of burgers and grilled chicken sandwiches because those were the cheapest things on the menu.”
“Sure.”
“I hated it. I hated coming home smelling like grease. I hated that I had to follow the executive chef’s recipes, because he had some weird ideas about seasoning. So that was part of it.”
“Everyone has to pay their dues.”
“Yeah, sure, Milk Bar.”
“I was making another chef’s recipes there, too. It wasn’t that different.”
Lindsay sighed. The truth was that she’d stopped dreaming after she broke up with Brad. The whole point of that plan had been to open the place together. And she hadn’t seen much value in paying her dues at a job that genuinely made her miserable if she wasn’t going to open that dream restaurant. The future she’d planned for herself had evaporated. So she’d carved out a new niche for herself.
She’d blamed Brad for that for a long time, because she hadn’t been able to face her own failings. But, of course, it hadn’t been Brad who had ended their relationship, and it hadn’t been Brad who had made her slave away in a hot kitchen she hated, and it hadn’t been Brad who’d quit cooking.
No, she’d sabotaged herself. She’d been so afraid of risking her heart that she hadn’t opened herself up to possibilities. Brad had opened her up just enough to let her dream, but she’d never invited him into her soul, not all the way.
But in the time that Brad had come back into her life recently, she’d started to dream again. And she understood now that she had to let him in all the way or this wasn’t worth doing. Anything less than that would just lead them back to heartache.
She wasn’t ready to say all that aloud, so she said, “I just didn’t feel the same joy for cooking that I had in culinary school. So I decided to do something else.”
“Okay.”
“I was just curious if you had any ideas for how you wanted your career to go now.”
Brad took a deep breath and lay on his back. “I guess I figured I’d work at the cat café another year or two. Probably stay on as executive pastry chef but in more of a consultant role while I baked somewhere else. I don’t know if I see myself in my own place, but I’d love to work in a restaurant where I had free rein over the dessert menu.”
“Okay. Just curious.”
“Are you going to stay a food editor?”
“For now. I really like this job. But the Forum is hanging on by a thread financially, so I don’t know how long I’ll have it.”
“You think you’ll ever cook again?”
Cooking for her friends always reminded her how much she loved to cook. So, yeah, she wanted to cook in a restaurant again. She wanted to create recipes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that dream until she started thinking about it again. How she cooked, she wasn’t sure yet. Should she go back to a restaurant? Should she just make a YouTube channel?
She petted Fred Astaire and said, “I might cook again. But I’d probably have to start over if I went back into the industry. I haven’t cooked in a restaurant in four years.”
“Maybe,” said Brad. “I dunno. I worked with a guy two jobs ago who was a great chef but didn’t even go to culinary school. Working in restaurants seems to be half talent and half who you know.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m just saying. And if you opened your own place, there are no rules.”
“That’s a lot of pressure, though.”
Brad nodded. “I’d rather have a regular paycheck myself.”
“It sounds like you have given your future some thought.”
“Sure. I have.”
Lindsay wanted to ask if his future involved a wife working at his side, but she didn’t want to know the answer. If he saw himself with a wife who wasn’t her, it would break her heart, not that she thought he’d say that directly.
“Was that what you wanted to ask?” he said. “What I thought about the future?”
“Yeah, basically. I was just curious.”
“Right.”
So, basically, they were still at an impasse. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t freak out and dump him the next day. Lindsay did trust him, though. This time they’d spent together had shown her that Brad was worth trusting, and the reason things hadn’t worked out the first time was mostly on her. She’d pushed him away because of her own garbage. Now he was back and giving her a second chance she probably didn’t deserve. She wasn’t going to push him away this time, though. He’d proved himself to her. Now she’d have to prove herself to him.