Page 281 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Good. You know. Busy as always. How’s the weather out there?”
I furrow my brow. So we’re just going to small talk? A tiny bit of the tension in my shoulders drains away.
“Finally starting to warm up,” I cautiously say. “The Hawthornes told me the farm is beautiful in the spring, but it’sbeen amazing seeing it for myself. You wouldn’t believe it, Dad. This place looks like it’s straight out of a fairytale.”
“Sounds charming,” he says, sounding utterlyuncharmed.
Ah. There he is. There’s the Dad I expect.
“Itischarming,” I say, the bite in my words surprising even me. Apparently, I’m too tired to be careful. And I’m just . . . really over him making everything so hard.
Dad scoffs, and I brace myself. “Really now, Tatum. Can we please just stop with all this? When are you coming home? I miss you. Ineedyou here.”
I breathe out a weary sigh. “You don’t need me, Dad. Your restaurant is fine. Suki should have had the head chef job a long time ago.”
“This isn’t about the restaurant,” he barks back, his tone harsh. “I don’t care about the restaurant.”
I sit up a little taller, a sense of unease building in my chest. Dad is often disagreeable, but it’s usually in a very passive-aggressive way. He’s rarely short-tempered. “Then what is it about?”
He’s quiet for a long moment before he lets out a frustrated breath. “Tatum, the network isn’t renewing my show. That’s the truth of it. If you don’t sign on for the show featuring us both, I’m off the air.”
I stiffen, a wave of shock moving through me. “Wait, what?”
“They don’t want me anymore,” he reiterates. “I have no contract unless I sign a new one with you on board.”
I sink back into my chair, letting his words percolate in my brain. Suddenly, everything makes so much more sense.
“So me coming back to L.A. has never been about me,” I say slowly. “It’s always been about you?”
“Tatum, you know that’s not true. Of course it’s been about you. I want what’s best for you. I want what’s best for us both.”
His words sound sincere, but I know Dad too well not to hear what he isn’t saying. He won’t tell me I’m throwing away his career along with my own, but he’ll think it, and knowing that is as heavy and oppressive as it would be if he simply said the words out loud.
“How can the network do this to you, Dad? After all you’ve done for them.”
“I’m an old man, Tatum. And there are countless younger, better-looking chefs anxious to make their mark on the world. But you—you’re young. Beautiful. You have thesomethingthey’re looking for.”
“Lucky for you, I happen to be your daughter.”
“Lucky for us both. Don’t pretend like you haven’t enjoyed the perks of growing up with everything my fame has given you.”
I run my hand over the butter-soft leather on my chair’s armrest.
Dad loves to remind me of this—everything his career has given me. But all I can think about right now is what it would take away.
Because if I go back to California to do a show with my father, I would have to leave Stonebrook.
Leave Lennox.
Staying together would be impossible. His life is here—his family is here. There wouldn’t be any compromise that could possibly work for us both.
Still, if I stay in Silver Creek, what would I do?
I’ve been real with myself the past couple of weeks, and I’m just about ready to admit out loud that catering—or really any kind of full-time cooking—isn’t what I want for my future. In that sense, a tv show might be a better fit. It would have better hours, anyway. And there would be a whole team of chefs and consultants available to do the heavy lifting. I’ve seen the way Dad’s show works. He doesn’t have to come up withanythingonhis own if he doesn’t want to. Everything is scripted, even if it’s made to look spontaneous.
But that would land me right back where I was when I fled to North Carolina in the first place. I would be playing a role. Pretending to be someone I’m not.
I may not love being a chef, but at least out here, it’s beenme.It’s been real.
