Page 47 of The Love Syllabus

“Wow,” Mom says softly, her eyes shining with something more than amusement.

I narrow my gaze, suddenly uneasy. “What?”

They don’t answer right away. They just keep grinning at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended.

Hudson just shakes his head, still smirking. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”

But Mom’s expression softens. “It’s just nice to see you so...happy. You haven’t been this lively in years.”

Her words strike a chord, one I didn’t realize had been waiting to be played. I nod in agreement, acknowledging a truth I hadn’t fully admitted to myself until now. I haven’t felt thislightin years. After the loss of my wife, a permanent fog settled over my life, dampening even my brightest days. I threw myself into work and fatherhood, convincing myself that fulfilling my responsibilities was all the satisfaction I needed, but Kerry’s arrival has shifted something fundamental within me.

Coming home every day to a house filled with love, laughter, and a newfound peace is nothing short of a blessing. It’s a gift that had been cruelly snatched away and then unexpectedly returned through Kerry’s presence. She’s rekindled a part of me I thought had left forever with my late wife—the ability to connect intimately, to foster a personal relationship that transcends the boundaries of family and business. In her, I’ve found someone I can come home to and share all my problems, fears, worries, stresses, and even joy. Kerry has become a friend, a friend I’m grateful to have in my life.

Granted, we butt heads nearly every day, but by the end of the night, when it’s just us, sipping on wine and whiskey, all is forgotten. The only thing that remains is the comfort our presence seems to bring each other.

“Alright, stop with all the coded looks,” I say, snapping out of my thoughts and narrowing my eyes at Hudson and Mom, who are exchanging smug glances. “It’s obvious that Kerry’s awesome. She’s sweet, nurturing, funny, smart. She’s… she’s perfect for the girls.”

“Who knows?” Mom shrugs, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe she’s perfect for you too.” She adds a playful wink as if that’s supposed to be subtle.

I shake my head, letting out a dry laugh. “Nope, not happening. I’m her boss, Mom. I’d never cross that line,” I say firmly, ignoring the flicker of heat in my chest as I think about the one or two too many times I almost did.

“You sure ‘bout that?” Hudson asks, arching an eyebrow. “You got that dinner date tomorrow night, and IknowKerry’s gonna be lookin’ good. Umm, umm,umm, that woman…” He trails off, shaking his head with an exaggerated grin, clearly imagining Kerry in some disrespectful scenario that sets my blood boiling.

I glare at him, my jaw clenching tight. “Hudson,” I snap, my voice dropping an octave, “whatever you’re thinking, you better chill…now.”

His grin evaporates, and he throws his hands up in mock surrender. “So… yourfriendslashnannythat you’d never cross the line with is off-limits, even in mythoughts? Got it.” He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair like he’s the victim here.

“Boys, that’s enough talk about Ms. Kind,” Mom cuts in, her tone sharp enough to slice through the tension. She smooths down the front of her blouse, giving us both a look that brokers no argument. “Besides, she’s way too good for the both of you.”

Hudson mumbles under his breath but wisely keeps it low enough that I can’t catch the words.

“Now,” Mom continues, her voice all business, “let’s focus. We’ve got a PR situation to handle, remember?”

With that reminder, we make our way to the boardroom, where the number one topic of discussion happens to be my love life. If I have to endure one more conversation about taking photos with my so-called arm candy, hyping up the image of being a hot single dad, or generating buzz, I’m going to lose it.

I understand that I’ve stepped back from the spotlight for the past five years and that my personality hasn’t always been...stellar. But I’m a master chef, the best on this side of the hemisphere. I can anchor a cooking show. I can be the face of my restaurants. And I can certainly secure lucrative brand deals without the GQ hype. I don’t need to put on a dog and pony show gallivanting around town with Kerry on my arm like a prop. I’m adamant about not turning our working relationship into a public spectacle. She’s far more than just a pretty face to parade around. Yet, despite my resistance, we agree to officially begin our public charade today.

“Mr. Grimes, you’ve beensupposedlydating your bombshell, small-town girlfriend for months,” my head of PR snaps, her frustration mirroring my own. “So why haven’t we seen a single post on social media? Why hasn’t there been a glamorous getaway to get the bloggers riled up? You need to be out on the town with your face in front of cameras as much as possible. She’s our key to making you more human, softer, more likable. You haven’t even been spotted out as a family. I’m sure the girls adore her.”

I clench my jaw, the tension snapping like a rubber band. “First off, don’t mention my daughters.” My voice drops, low and firm. “Secondly, I value my privacy, and so does Kerry. And thirdly, it’s my culinary creations that should be drawing attention,notmy personal life.”

“Exactly,” Mom chimes in, nodding her support like she’s been waiting to back me up.

“Wrong,” Hudson cuts in, leaning forward with that infuriating know-it-all smirk. “We’re launching three new ventures in the next six months, Vic. Your name needs to be at the forefront of everyone’s minds before the show even airs. You’re not just a CEO; you’re a figurehead.”

“Well, I don’t need to be like every other CEO,Hudson.”

“Oh, you definitely aren’t. I’ve never met a CEO more concerned with menial matters like restaurant menu items over profit margins, branding strategies, and securing partnerships,” Hudson fires back, his voice sharp with barely concealed frustration. “You get to play chef while I handle therealwork that keeps this company running.”

I slowly exhale, willing myself to stay calm, but my patience is hanging by a thread. “Therealwork? Is that what you think?”

Hudson scoffs, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed like he’s been waiting to let this all out. “Who do you think kept our doors open during the market crash, Vic? Who locked in the deal that got our cookware line onto every website and in every high-end department store across the country? Who negotiated the damn TV show that you get to be the face of? Meanwhile, you were off perfecting your butter-poached scallops.” He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “So, forgive me if I don’t think your priorities are straight. You shouldn’t even be the one calling the shots.”

I slam my hand down on the table, rattling the water glasses and our executive leaders.

“Yet, I am.” My voice is steady, unwavering. “I’m the one sitting at the head of this table. I’m the one Dad named CEO. Not you.”

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