Page 93 of For Butter or Worse
“It was very hard,” his mom said. “But I worried most about the boys. When Leonardo wasn’t mentioning his father, I assumed it’s because he didn’t want to discuss him.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about him,” Leo said.
“Of course, I did.” His mom began to sniffle. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes. “He was the love of my life, the father of my children. Every day without him is a reminder of what’s missing.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. She squeezed back.
“We’re here for the present, just as a reminder,” Meredith said. “We can’t change the past, but we can move forward and be better to each other in the future.”
“Yes!” Donna said with more enthusiasm than he could have imagined. “You need to take the time to go find what it is that makes you happy. The way your father made me happy. The way you seemed to be happy with Nina.”
He stiffened at the mention of her name out loud. He tried to look anywhere but at his mom and Meredith. He was afraid that if he caught either of their eyes, they’d know immediately that losing Nina was a bigger issue than he was willing to admit.
“You’re fired,” his mom said.
He laughed. “You can’t fire me, Mom.” The idea of taking time off from work seemed impossible to him. What would he even do if he wasn’t going into the restaurant?
“I have a controlling stake in the company—fifty-one percent!” She balled up the tissue and threw it into the trash can. “Your father made sure of it so I could be the deciding vote if any issues arose. He didn’t want you and Gavin fighting. So, yes, I can fire you. And you are fired.”
His mouth fell open. He frowned. He hadn’t wanted to befirednecessarily.
“Should I leave you two?” Meredith cautiously asked.
“No, I will leave.” Donna stood, her purse already slung over her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me your truth.”
“My truth?” he asked.
“I know it’s a saying. I hear people in the restaurant say it all the time!”
“What will I do if I’m not at the restaurant?”
“I don’t know.” She kissed Leo on the head. “But you’ll figure it out. And remember what I’ve told you in the past—be bold.”
The words repeated in his mind and, as they did, so did the memory of being by Nina’s side.Be bold.Maybe that was the answer.
36
NINA
Nina walked into what was left of the dining room. The tables and chairs had been sold, as had the flatware, utensils, napkins and anything else someone could physically pick up and carry out.
Her restaurant, the one she’d built so many years ago and that was like an extension of herself, was unrecognizable. As of midnight, she’d hand over the keys to the new owners.
“I don’t know how you can do this sober.” Jasmine leaned an elbow on Nina’s shoulder and carefully balanced an open bottle of white wine with her free hand. “I’m going to either cry or vomit pretty soon.”
“We don’t have any trash cans or tissues left, so save it for the car ride home.” Nina wrapped an arm around Jasmine’s waist and pulled her in for a tight hug. They held each other while the hum of midafternoon traffic rattled by outside. Normally, at this time of day, the space would be filled with the sound of clanging pans, knives meeting cutting boards and the kitchen staff catching up on gossip. The silence was eerie but calming.
Deciding to close Lyon was simple—there was no other option. She’d done everything she physically could to bring people back to her food, but no amount of PDA, trending hashtags, or blind gossip items could save her restaurant. She had to close the place she thought of as her real home. She’d promised her mom she’d keep the doors open, but she wasn’t going to make good on her word.
She’d thought of Jasmine, the waitstaff, kitchen crew—all the people who got their paychecks from her business. She’d saved up enough to give them a month’s severance. She’d been preparing for this possibility, and she hoped that a month would be enough for them to find new employment.
Her career was over. She was heartbroken to be closing Lyon. And ever since making the closure official, she felt like she’d placed the part of herself that loved cooking in the back of a deep cupboard and she wasn’t sure how to retrieve it.
Having everything that defined her for the last few years stripped away had meant that she could really look at herself. With no distractions, she realized that she’d lost her focus on Lyon and the food. Her world had become more about damage control than the art of cooking, which had brought her there in the first place. She needed to get back her spark, but she hadn’t figured out how.
And she couldn’t deny that she was still gutted from her breakup with Leo, if she could even have called it that. She felt robbed of any kind of label—boyfriend, breakup. Did she have any right to be upset over someone who had never been hers to begin with?
A sharp knock on the front door signaled that the reporter had arrived. Nina had agreed to one final interview with a journalist who’d been trying to do a profile on Nina for years. Her coverage of the show, and Nina, had always been fair. She’d steered clear of tabloid pieces and wrote thoughtful takes on women and representation in the food world. If she was going to announce the closing of Lyon, she wanted to give that story to someone who would handle it with respect.
