Page 4 of Until August
“I’ll bet. I’m sure it was all flattering.”
Kristen laughed. “Not all of it, no. I thought you sounded like an ogre, but David always defended you. He said you made him a better chef. He’s always respected you.”
When David Nguyen worked for me, I demanded perfection. I was an arrogant asshole, so busy chasing the coveted Michelin star that I’d forgotten what was really important.
“You’re why we decided to keep it small,” Kristen continued. “We wanted to find that perfect work/life balance.”
I winced, but she didn’t notice. She was busy chopping mint and chilis for the garnishes.
The Nguyens’ kitchen was tiny, only big enough for David and Kristen, which was by design. Customers were served at the counter or at one of four small tables, and foodies flocked to this place. By lunchtime, there would be a line out the door.
When the food ran out, they closed the restaurant for the day and went surfing, hung out at the beach, dined at local restaurants, or whatever people did when they weren’t working.
Eight years ago, I would have said they had their priorities screwed up. Now, though, I’d say they’d gotten it exactly right.
“I’ll finish the day, and then I’ll get out of your hair.” All I wanted was to work in a kitchen again. But I didn’t want to outstay my welcome.
“You know we’d hire you if we could,” she said warmly.
“I know. Thanks.” They didn’t have the money to hire me or the room to accommodate another chef.
They just wanted to do what they loved and keep it simple.
I tossed spices into a pan and toasted them. The air filled with the warm, pungent aroma of star anise. Cardamom. Cloves. Cinnamon. An Angus & Julia Stone song piped from the speakers, and fingers of pale morning sunlight danced across the stainless steel.
It was my favorite time of day. Early enough to still hold promise.
I kept waiting for my phone to ring or for a text to come through, but it didn’t.
A few days ago, I almost knocked on Sasha’s door again, demanding to see my son. But in the end, I couldn’t do it.
What is a man if all his promises are empty?
A worthless piece of shit.
A little while later, David returned with fresh fish for today’s specials, and Kristen’s face lit up as if he'd been gone years instead of a couple hours. I averted my gaze when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Kristen was short, blonde, and curvy. David was tall and lean with thick black hair that she ran her fingers through, laughing when it stood up in all different directions.
They were in love, and I was the third wheel in a kitchen only big enough for two.
How would it feel to spend most of your waking hours with the person you loved?
Pretty damn good, I’d imagine.
Being around them reminded me of how often I’d left Sasha alone while pursuing my dreams. Back then, I had no concept of a work/life balance. My workwasmy life. But she always said she understood and loved my drive and ambition and wouldn’t want me any other way.
Until Sage came along, and everything changed.
David set a Vietnamese coffee on the counter next to me, and I shoved thoughts of Sasha and my son out of my head. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I thanked him and stirred the dark, rich coffee with the condensed milk at the bottom while he tucked some cash under the saucer. I tried to give back the money, but he held up his hands and backed away, refusing to take it.
“Keep it. Please. I can’t in good conscience let you work for free.”
“I’m the one who barged into your kitchen,” I pointed out.
“The privilege is all mine.” He sounded so sincere it baffled me. I couldn’t understand why he had any respect for me after what I did.
I had a lot of amends to make. Might as well start here. I cleared my throat and rubbed my hand over my jaw, offering an overdue apology. “Sorry for being such an asshole back then.”
