Page 71 of The Kitchen Contract

39

ALEX

When Miles finally drops us back off at Nora’s hotel, I’m beat. It’s been about thirty-six hours since my last shower, and I got about two hours of sleep last night on the red-eye flight that delivered me to Nora just in the nick of time.

We arrived at the studio offices with about one minute to spare. Nora was stressed to the max, though she did her best to hide it as we all but jogged inside, but all the rushing around was worth it. The execs we met with loved Miles’ pitch, and they loved us even more.

Nora was the picture of poised perfection and answered every question they posed about the show with ease. I quickly decided the best strategy for me was to be friendly and charming when spoken to and to shut up and defer to Nora the rest of the time. She was right that they strongly preferred the idea of the pair of us, which doesn’t make sense to me. I am basically a prop who knows nothing. At best, I could be Nora’s assistant.

After a two-hour discussion, they gave us a tour of the studio area, introduced us to the director who is interested in leading the project, and fed us a delicious lunch prepared as a dress rehearsal for a current cooking show on the network. Before they sent us on our way, they promised to email after they’d nailed down the concept and the terms they decided to offer. Miles was ecstatic, marveling over how smoothly the meeting went and assuring us that he would forward everything to Nora as soon as he received it.

Now, I follow Nora into the lobby and wait for her to tell me what to do next. I know I kind of crashed her party today, but hopefully my presence was helpful. I’m leaving it up to her to decide what our next step should be. When she turns to face me as we wait for the elevator, I stand at attention.

“You’ll need to try to get a room here tonight, but for now, why don’t you come up to my room so we can talk?”

I nod my agreement and follow her into the elevator. She doesn’t say a word as we ascend and then walk the short distance to her door, where she swipes her key and enters without checking to see if I’m following. Before the door even shuts behind me, she sinks into a chair and removes her shoes so fast her hands are almost a blur.

“Ahhhh.” I’ve never heard anyone sound more relieved as she slumps down and lets her head rest on the back of the chair. “These shoes are so cute, but my feet feel totally numb, except for the shooting pains in my toes.”

I sit on the bed opposite her and bend to grasp her ankle, lifting her right foot up into my lap. She starts to pull away, but her resistance weakens significantly when I begin massaging, my thumbs kneading long strokes up her arch.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, but she makes no additional attempts to retract her foot.

“I know, but I want to. Don’t steal my joy.” I give her a playful smile.

“Well, in that case.” She lifts her left foot and balances it on my other knee.

We sit in the quiet, both taking a moment to decompress until she puffs out a breath. “So, I guess we need to finish talking.”

“We don’t have to right now,” I tell her, even though I’m anxious to hear her response to my apology earlier. I’m ready to know if she plans to give me another chance or kick me to the curb, though the current state of affairs makes me guess she’s not totally repulsed by me. Then again, maybe her feet hurt so badly she’d accept a massage from anyone. “We can talk tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to rest and think.”

“No.” She shakes her head as she pushes herself up, pulling her feet away and planting them firmly on the floor. “I don’t think we should wait. I want to get this behind us.”

I clasp my hands together to keep them steady now that they are unoccupied and wait for her to continue.

“Was there anything that you wanted to say earlier that you didn’t get to?”

I shake my head. “No, I think I pretty much covered it, but I did want to give you something.” I reach for the backpack I’d dropped beside the bed on my way into the room, unzip it, and withdraw a folder.

“I’m ashamed to say I didn’t consider how me breaking up with you would impact you professionally, at least not at first. But I want you to know that even if you decide that I’m not right for you, you’re still welcome to use my kitchen and teach me in your videos per the terms of our initial contract.”

I meet her eyes and smile hopefully as I continue. “But in case you decide to give me another chance, I made a few amendments to the contract that I hope you’ll agree to.” I hold out the folder to her.

She takes it, her expression wary. Opening it up, she begins to read it aloud.

“‘This new and improved agreement is between Eleanora ‘Rose’ Beckham and Alexander ‘Xander’ Lockwood, henceforth respectively known as the First Party and the Second Party. The First Party agrees to be a highly valued companion and help eat all foods prepared in the home of the Second Party and the Second Party agrees to allow the First Party unhindered access to the kitchen and to his heart for as long as she desires it. In addition, the Second Party agrees to provide unlimited quantities of iced coffee in exchange for the honor of the First Party’s continued presence in his life. Each party certifies that they are freely entering into this agreement and will hereby abide by its terms and conditions.’”

She looks up at me with watery eyes and a hiccupping chuckle. A lock of purple hair has slipped free from her bun and brushes her cheek. I lean forward and twist it gently around my finger, letting my thumb brush over the apple of her cheek.

“Will you forgive me, Rose? Give me a chance to work towards being the man you deserve?”

Finally, her full smile breaks free as she nods, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I will, and I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping things from you. I should have known that it would be a big deal to you after everything you told me about yourself. I promise I’ll be radically truthful in the future. No more surprise parties from me.”

I chuckle and let my hand drop down to capture hers. “I appreciate that. But I think I’ll just adopt the same rule as you—good surprises only. And I’ll just have to trust that you won’t break the rule.”

“But what if I think it’s a good surprise but it turns out you hate it? Or what if you get freaked out by a secret like you did before? Or what if?—”

I squeeze her hand. “Sleepy kitty.”

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