Page 6 of The Kitchen Contract

I choose to believe that would still be true even if I wasn’t the only one.

You’d be right!

I lean back in my chair. Fingers crossed Nora will reach out soon and put me out of my misery.

6

NORA

When Annie texts me to see how plans for the show are coming, I’m not sure what to say. I don’t really want to tell her that I spent the first two days after book club trying to think of the best way to break the news that I’d had a temporary lapse of sanity and wasn’t going to do it after all. Taking on a new project with a veritable stranger? No, thanks.

Sure, I’d sound like a coward—because I am. And I’d probably kick myself for a long time for passing up an opportunity to do something that could be really fun and exciting. But what kind of person agrees to something like this in the moment? Certainly not me. Besides, I already had a chance to make my mark in the food world and I blew it. What evidence is there that I could pull it off this time?

Except I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The possibility utterly consumed my waking—and dreaming—moments until ultimately, my sense of purpose and adventure won. Almost against my will, I wrenched the steering wheel in the other direction, taking the next few days to dive into a bottomless pit of articles and videos about producing an online cooking show. When I came up for air, I put together a multi-page document with a tentative filming schedule and began adding and removing copious amounts of equipment in my online shopping cart. I’ve been reading reviews like a maniac as I try to decide which items would bring the best value with my small startup budget.

All the while, I am aware that this thorough preparation will come to naught if I don’t take the crucial step of getting in touch with Alex. The man—or more specifically, his kitchen—is the lynchpin in this operation. But the thought of establishing contact is nerve-wracking.

What if he didn’t really mean it when he said I could use his kitchen? What if he only agreed because he felt pressured by Annie and Kayla? I took a really close look at my apartment this week, and I’m absolutely certain I don’t want to do a show here. The kitchen is so tiny I can barely turn around and it doesn’t have the kind of aesthetic that I know I would need for people to take me seriously. It’s worn out and very, very outdated—and not in a cute shabby-chic vintage sort of way. And we all know that looks matter, whether they should or not.

I could take up Annie or Kayla on their offers to use one of their kitchens, but that seems like a temporary solution at best. I don’t want to impose on them with their husbands, full lives, and babies on the way. Once those babies arrive, they’ll certainly have better things to do than host me and my show.

Ultimately, I have analyzed my options and Alex is it. The main source of my anxiety is the understanding that if I reach out and discover that Alex is no longer on board, the dream I’ve slowly come to view as precious this week will crash and burn.

And, of course, there are the normal, run-of-the-mill nerves that come with texting a hot, single guy. At least, I assume he’s single. He definitely wasn’t wearing a ring, and I would surely hope that he wouldn’t have invited me to use his kitchen so eagerly if he had a significant other who might object.

I shake my head, annoyed with myself. Singleness—or hotness—doesn’t have anything to do with this. It’s not like I’m trying to date the guy. We would be interacting in a purely professional capacity, like all my coworkers at the restaurant.

After reading Annie’s text three more times, I review my business proposal again and confirm what I already know: I’ve done all I can do without talking to Alex. I grab my phone and type out a message before I can overthink it any more than I already have.

Hi Alex, this is Nora Beckham from the other night. Is the offer still good for me to use your kitchen?

His reply comes in a matter of seconds.

Hi Nora. Yes the offer stands. Would you like to come tour the kitchen and see what you have to work with?

I tap my lips with my forefinger. That would actually be really helpful. I think I know what I need in terms of lighting and recording equipment, but seeing the space would certainly help narrow it down.

Yes, please. When are you available?

How about tonight? Say 6pm and I buy us a pizza?

I chew my bottom lip. I don’t have to work tonight, so I could go. It just seems so fast. But that’s a good thing, right? What reason do I have to wait?

I can tell you’re hesitating so I’ll throw in some ice cream too *ice cream cone emoji*

This makes me smile.

Mint chocolate chip?

You got it.

Then I guess I’ll be there. Address?

I save his reply in my phone and try not to pay attention to the swooping feeling in my stomach. Plugging his address into my GPS to check the distance, I realize I’ll need to leave soon to make it by six. Which means I need to start getting ready right now. I glance down at my graphic tee, black leggings, and comfy white sneakers. What does one wear to meet a guy and evaluate his kitchen? What would Alex expect me to wear?

Not a date, I remind myself. What Alex thinks about my clothes doesn’t matter. I suck in a deep, calming breath and make the decision not to change. I do, however, spend a few moments taming my collapsing messy bun—it was seriously hanging on by a thread—into a slightly less messy bun and brushing on some mascara and a dab of tinted lip balm. That’s the only concession I’ll make to my vanity today.

Shoving my notes into my bag, I gather my keys, phone, and water bottle.

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