Page 48 of For Butter or Worse
She could see the gears in his head turning—the same expression she got when she was crafting up a new recipe and stumbled upon something original. She sensed his energy and genuinely felt happy for him.
They sat on plastic chairs at one of the outdoor tables and she handed him the plate. “Taste the food before you agree to anything.”
He stabbed a forkful of ravioli and smelled it before taking a bite. He chewed slowly, then closed his eyes as the flavors hit him. She hadn’t paid attention to Leo when he tasted the food on their show—she’d actively avoided looking at him most of the time—but now she took him in, all of him.
What would it be like to cook food that gave him that kind of a reaction? The better-than-sex-and-sleeping-in-afterward kind of look that only truly perfect food could give you?
“Well?” She leaned closer, as if that would bring her his answer faster.
“I think I understand the concept of heaven on earth?” He laughed and took another bite. Then passed her the plate. “You need to try this.”
She took a bite of the ravioli and let the pillowy soft perfection of it flood her mouth.Heaven on earth, indeed. “That man knows how to cook pasta.” She took another bite.
“I was really anxious to meet him, especially after how the last one went.” Leo wrung his hands briefly, then shook them out. She couldn’t help but notice that just talking about his nervousness seemed to make him...nervous. “With everything going on with Vinny’s, these meetings have really gotten in my head.”
His vulnerability surprised her. So she decided to throw him a bone, and was vulnerable right back.
“It’s not the same, but I kind of know what you mean. Every time I see a chef now, I’m just constantly worried about whether they’ll ask me how Lyon is doing. I don’t want to lie, but if I say we’re barely holding the walls together, word will spread, and I’ll have an even harder time getting people through the door.”
Leo nodded back, and she could tell he was listening and hearing the doubts she hadn’t wanted to say out loud to anyone. But why had she mentioned them to Leo at all? She didn’t want his pity or sympathy, but her deepest fears had just spilled out.
“I wish you weren’t in the same situation that I am,” he said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
He squeezed her hand, the same way she’d squeezed his earlier, and a calm settled over her. He was the steadying force she needed to get through the day, and she had a feeling she was doing the same for him. How bizarre to know they were finally on the same page, after so many years of trying to sabotage each other. He may have started off as the guy who called her Nasty Nina, but the real Leo was nothing like what she’d anticipated.
And before she lingered too long on how cute the crinkles around his eyes were, she stood up, tossed out their plate and waved for him to follow.
There was butternut squash soup from Providence, crispy rice and sour-pork salad from Lum Ka Naad, prawns with black vinegar dressing from Kato, Wagyu beef prepared by n/naka, crispy fried chicken from Dulan’s, duck tartare from Animal, barrio tacos from Teddy’s and miniconchas from La Favorita Bakery that were so small and delicate that it was hard to just eat one...or six.
And in between each tasting, their hands had found each other. She’d fallen into a rhythm. Approach a booth, make small talk with the chef, introduce Leo, take the food sample, eat, then hold hands as they walked to the next station. Being next to him didn’t feel forced. Though, perhaps that was in part because she’d known him for years—there was nothing like the comfort of familiarity.
An invigorating fall breeze shifted through the air, her belly was delightfully filled with the best food LA had to offer and her mind wasn’t wandering to all of the work she had to do after this. She was having fun...and with Leo, of all people.
“I didn’t know what to expect today,” she said. “But I’m pretty sure all of these chefs like you more than me now.”
“I’m not being smarmy?” He searched her eyes.
“No, you’re just going to have to deal with the fact that you’re a natural here. The devil has his ways.” She raised up a hand in a what-can-you-do? sort of way.
“Thanks, I needed to hear that.” He gave her an appreciative look.
“Just telling the truth, and you know I’m a terrible liar.”
Then someone called her name. This was an event where she was bound to run into people she knew, which had initially given her apprehension—now that her business was floundering—but with Leo by her side, she’d gained confidence. They were in this together: she had his back, and it felt like he’d have hers, however bizarre that was to realize.
“Nina.” The gravelly tone was clearer.
She frowned, because she definitely recognized the voice. And when she looked over her shoulder, she saw him. An inch shy of being a full six feet tall, straight black hair that fell just below his ears and a thick, well-manicured beard that Nina could still remember running her fingertips through. Broad and toned...everything. He made eye contact and she froze.
She’d imagined what it might be like to see her ex, Charlie, plenty of times. She just hadn’t thought he’d look this good, or that he’d show up after she’d eaten so many carbs that her head was starting to spin.
“Charlie,” she breathed.
Even though he owned Zest in Hollywood, one of the few Michelin-starred restaurants in LA, she never expected to see him at this event. Charlie was an idol in the foodie world, but this wasn’t his scene. He was always above it all. His philosophy was to curate a select and wealthy clientele versus appealing to the masses.
Leo looked at her, then Charlie. He ended up introducing himself. “I’m Leo.”
She was having an out-of-body experience, watching from above as her ex stood across from her fake boyfriend. Maybe she really had eaten too many carbs, and this was a sugar-induced hallucination.
