Page 58 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

“Thank you, Sabrina. I’m happy to be here.”

They launch into a conversation about the bar, the food offerings, the vibe, and like a well-practiced maestro, Wren doesn’t miss a beat, focusing on his food prep while managing to hold a conversation. The hosts do most of the talking, as is the norm, but at least in my opinion, Wren shines.

“He’s doing so great,” Salem gushes, squeezing my arm. “I’m so glad he answered our ad.”

Me too, Salem. Me too.

TWENTY-TWO

WREN

My leg shakesas I sit in the comfortable waiting room on a well-worn couch. It’s like visiting your grandma’s house, waiting for the tray of cookies she baked for you. I hope it’s like that when I get through the door.

I’ve considered for a long time whether taking the step to therapy is the right thing to do, and I’m not really sure what’s pushing me to do it now. Maybe it’s because for the first time in my life, things are going the way I hoped. My career is on track, I have a nice place to live, I have friends, and… I have Ridley. I don’t want to lose any of it, but it feels like it could slip out of my hands at any second.

My phone buzzes in my pocket for about the hundredth time today. Apparently everyone I know watchesGood Morning New Onyx, and I’ve had people from high school all the way up to some old hookups messaging me today. Noticeably though, my family hasn’t and neither has Trent.

Not that I expected him to. The way things ended wasn’t exactly friendly. What would he even say to me? Hey, I saw you finally met all your goals after I spent years telling you that you never would? Fuck knows he’d never apologize. Do I want himto? See, this is why I need to be in therapy. I don’t have a clue how to process all this shit in my head.

I pull my phone out to silence it, but the name on the screen is Ridley’s so I unlock it and read the text.

Ridley: Thursday to Saturday nights are booked solid and we can expect a wait. All because of our sexy ginger executive chef slaying the morning show.

He sends a series of emojis, from water drops to an eggplant to a cheesy grin.

Me: That’s incredible. Guess I better be well rested.

Ridley: Happy to help if I can.

Me: I have some ideas.

The dots pop up but then disappear a few seconds later before popping up again.

Ridley: Seriously though, you were incredible. I’m so proud to know you and be associated with your talent. See ya later, rabbit.

My stomach flutters as I read the message a second time. I’m not sure anyone has ever told me they were proud of me except my culinary instructor on occasion.

“Wren?”

I look up as my name is called by the therapist, a woman who’s probably in her forties. She has long brown hair, tattoos on one arm, and a nose piercing. I knew what she looked like based on the website, but something about her physical presence is instantly soothing.

In her office, I settle into the armchair, glancing around nervously. She sits across from me, a warm smile on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wren. You can call me Maisy. Let’s start with the basics. Can you tell me why you decided to seek therapy at this time?”

The question causes a flurry of activity in my brain, my thoughts swirling in several directions, until the dust settles and one answer stands out.

“Things are going well for me, for the first time in maybe forever, and I’m absolutely terrified of losing it all.”

Maisy nods, smiling, so I continue.

“I’m ready to tackle the stuff that’s getting in my way.”

“I can help with that. Let’s get started.”

Ridley wasn’t kidding,and by the time the kitchen closes hours later, I feel like I’m ten feet tall. Everyone was ordering the two items I prepared on the morning show, and for the first time since we opened, we ran out of ingredients to make them. Wild.

After a final check of the kitchen, I release the staff and head to my small corner of the office where I keep my papers and make notes of what dishes were popular. Not that I’d forget a day like today, but I’ll jot it down for consistency.

---