Page 69 of Kiss Me Again

He laughs. “Are you though? You’re on Long Island.”

“Look, I appreciate this. Really, I do. But I’m not sure if I’m ready to be back in a kitchen yet. After everything I lost, it’s hard to think about trying again.”

“Okay, that I get. I’ll text you the number. You can make your own choices from there.”

“Thanks. And what made you get sober this time?”

He sighs. “Me. After screwing up so monumentally for you, I hit a bad place. Like, dark. Real dark. I blamed everything and everyone but me for that mistake, and after a while, I realized it was me. I was the one who screwed up. Sure, the drugs didn’t help with that, but I’m the one who didn’t renew the insurance. I’m the one who got so lost in using that I stopped eating for a while—

“Oh, Pax.”

“Yeah. And how bad does drug use have to be for someone who works in restaurants to stop eating? That’s what a busser asked me one night, and I realized I had to fix this. So, I did. Or rather, I am. Every minute of every day, one day at a time.”

I smile, and my eyes sting. “You know something? You sound like the you I met in culinary school. I’ve missed that guy.”

“Me too. I’m working on finding him again. And I’m sorry it took fucking you over to do it.”

“It’s nice to know something good is coming from all that.”

“I know you’re reluctant to call, Lily. It’s a big step. Please don’t let my mistake ruin your life. You are meant to do this.”

His words choke me up. I sniff back the tears. “Thank you, Paxton. I need to go.”

“Okay. Whatever you choose, good luck.”

“You too.”

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28

Lily

“You are meant to do this.” Paxton’s words keep ringing in my ears even as we load the kids into Cormac’s SUV. Part of me thinks he’s right. Until recently, I’ve never felt more alive than when I was in my kitchen. The shouting, the flames, the scents of old mop water and grilled steaks, swearing at my co-workers one minute and fiercely defending them to patrons the next, making out in the walk-ins…all of it made my pulse pound. Back then.

Now, I’m delighted to pack beach lunches. Do laundry for teeny tiny clothes. Play board games. What the hell happened to me? But when I get in the passenger side of his SUV, it becomes painfully obvious.

I’ve been domesticated.

I snort a laugh at myself and stare out my side of the windshield, watching the scenery pass by. It’s not as though I resent the changes—to my continuous surprise, I actually enjoy them quite a lot. But I don’t know what to think about any of it. Not really. The differences in my life are stark.

It shocks me I’m still debating any of this. My inner chef is screaming to call the guy. But the rest of me catches a glimpse of a different life each time I see Cormac’s profile.

Is there any reason I can’t do both, once Abigail returns and they don’t need me anymore?

Cormac softly asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet since I got home. The kids—

“Oh, they’ve been good all day. I just—

“When does Mommy get back?” Franny asks.

He says, “In seven sleeps.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Seven sleeps?”

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