Page 94 of Simmer Down
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“It’s quite all right.” He lets out a good-natured laugh. “Things have been stressful lately, haven’t they?”
His soft tone, the obvious empathy in his voice helps dial back the embarrassment a touch. I wonder if he’s read all the crazy stuff online about Callum and me. I wonder if he’s seen the shaky video of us having it out at the festival. Last I checked, which was a few days ago, the video that @IEatEverything posted was up to nearly fifty thousand views. So yeah, he’s probably seen it.
I swallow back the urge to groan out loud.
Ted clears his throat again. “I was wondering if you were still interested in being our featured chef at the resort once a week.”
“Oh.”
Memories of the night Callum and I served a surprise three-course Easter dinner at a high-end resort on a total whim swoop through me. I blink and see Callum’s full lips stretched into a satisfied smile when we finished serving, every single diner raving about our dishes. I blink again and see his naked form in the hot tub of our room. I remember his hands on my body, his breath on my skin, his heart beating so hard, I felt it inside me.
I hear the words he spoke to me in that delicious guttural whisper.
Good would be doing this with you every day. Good would be getting you to admit when you’re jealous and want only me. Good would be calling you mine.
Given the way he shut me down at his condo the other day and how I haven’t heard from him since, he wouldn’t be interested in working with me ever again. A lump lodges in my throat. It’s a second before I can collect myself and answer Ted.
“I’m sorry, Ted. I can’t. As much as I want to, I just don’t think I can handle prepping another dinner with Callum. We had a falling out, in case you hadn’t heard.”
The awkward pause and throat clear on the other end of the line tells me he did indeed hear about it, just as I suspected.
“I’m sorry, I should clarify,” Ted says. “Callum won’t be part of this. I want to contract you and only you to serve a weekly dinner at the resort restaurant. Would you be interested?”
When the words sink in, I nearly drop my phone. “I don’t understand...”
Ted waits a beat before speaking. “Look, I’m sorry to hear about you and Callum not working out, but between you and me, hevoluntarily stepped down when I called him about it a few days ago. He said he didn’t want to do the weekly service because he didn’t have it in him. He said you would do a better job of it anyway.”
I’m rendered speechless once more.
“Honestly, Nikki, he doesn’t give out compliments easily.”
I remember Ted making that exact same comment the night Callum and I collaborated on Easter dinner.
“I’ve been friends with Callum for years, and I’ve never known him to gush about anyone like he does about you,” Ted says. “It’s certainly a significant gesture that he would do something like this.”
Ted’s words trigger an image of Callum and me cuddled on his couch guzzling pink champagne while watchingThe Office. Our playful discussion of romantic gestures replays in my mind, how I said I preferred low-key ones—kind of like what he’s done for me just now.
My heart thuds. I swear it reverberates all the way to my throat. Maybe this is his way of showing he remembers what’s important to me—that I’m still important to him. Maybe it’s a signal that we can be something more. And maybe it’s my turn to show him how much he still means to me.
Ted clears his throat, cluing me in on the fact that I’ve said nothing for several seconds. I refocus.
“So what do you say? Are you still interested in my offer to have you cook at Travaasa?” he asks again.
He explains how much it will pay, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from squealing. Adding that to our weekly food truck earnings and the festival prize money would give our savings the boost we need. Ted also mentions the prospect of heading special event dinners throughout the year. I have to remind myself that it’s unprofessional to cheer loudly while on the phone with my prospective new boss.
This is it. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, the chance to showcase just how much I can do when someone gives me an empty kitchen, a fridge full of ingredients, and creative freedom. It’s the big break I’ve been aching for since I set foot on Maui.
I take a breath and finally speak. “I’m absolutely interested.”
Ted says he’ll email me the official offer and contract soon. I hang up, feeling an ounce lighter than I did when I answered the phone.
I turn to relay the news to Mom, who takes a break from taking orders to squeal, then pulls me into a jump hug.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
She chats about how she’s going to book a holiday dinner at Travaasa for her book club so she and her friends can try my gourmet menu.
