Page 102 of Whisking It All

Jamie: That’s not what it feels like.

Tessa: I just need some time.

Jamie: And then you’ll come home?

Tessa: I don’t know where home is.

Jamie: It’s here. With me.

Jamie: But if you don’t know that by now, maybe we both have some things to figure out.

Chapter 33

“Go,” Anabel said with a laugh as she shoved at Jamie’s back, pushing him towards the door. “Get out of my kitchen.”

“My kitchen, you mean,” Jamie said.

“You’re gumming up the works, Chef,” Anabel said, crossing her arms. “You’ve got my whole crew on edge with all your muttering and growling and menu changes.”

“That menu—”

“Is fine. You approved it last week. And the crew is solid. Well, except for Brodie, but that’s nothing new,” she said with an eye roll. “We can’t have two chefs running lead or my line is going to be a mess. So, unless you want to help out with the prep station, either you go, or I go.”

Jamie released a frustrated sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair. It had been like this for the last week. Seven days since Tessa left without so much as a goodbye…again. Seven days since he’d thrown himself headfirst into the restaurant so he wouldn’t have time to think about the gaping hole in his chest. After sixteen-hour days at the restaurant, he’d stumble home and collapse in a bed that still smelled like her, too tired to even dream before getting up at the crack of dawn and doing it all over again.

Compartmentalize, focus on work, and for fuck’s sake stop rereading her damn texts. That had been his mantra for seven days. None of it had helped.

He knew he was driving his kitchen staff—and the skeleton crew working under Kyla to keep Sugar Grapes afloat in Tessa’s absence— crazy, but he didn’t know what else to do. Ethan wouldn’t talk to him, Tessa was off “figuring things out,” and the only things he knew how to fix were in the kitchen. The fish delivery was delayed? He could rewrite the menu, put lamb on special and get the servers to push the pork. Kyla couldn’t decipher Tessa’s half-written recipes? He could take them home and write them out in clear, step-by-step instructions for the untrained bakers at Sugar Grapes. The food and wine festival was this weekend and he needed to come up with a vegan, gluten-free option for the opening dinner for Pastor Davis’ niece? Done.

If only he could fix his relationships so easily.

How many days did she need to spend holed up in Florida before she realized her home was in Aster Bay? With each day that passed, he became less convinced that she’d ever come back, and in his darkest moments he wondered if she’d ever intended to stay with him at all.

“Don’t you have stuff to do for the festival or something? The opening dinner is only a few days away,” Anabel said, waving her hands as if she’d shoo him out the door.

He had far too much to do for the festival, including finding back-up plans for all the programs and demonstrations Tessa was supposed to lead. He was already pulling overtime to prepare her parts of the menu—with Kyla’s help, thankfully—but he couldn’t be in two places at once during the festival itself, so he wouldn’t be able to cover her demonstrations and workshops. Finding someone else to take them, though, meant admitting that she might not come back, and he hadn’t been ready to do that. With less than forty-eight hours to go, though, it was time to take Gavin and Baz up on their offer to help find coverage for Tessa’s programs. Anything they couldn’t cover, they’d have to refund.

“Okay, I’m going,” Jamie said, holding his hands up in surrender as he backed out the kitchen door. He couldn’t help but poke his head back in and call, “But don’t overcook the pork. And make sure those fingerlings get crisp before you plate them. And—”

A barrage of side towels pelted him as his entire crew turned en masse, Anabel right there out front, and chucked the linens at him.

“Okay!” He dodged the last of the towels. “Kitchen’s yours,” he said to Anabel.

“Thank God. Now will you get out of here already?” she said with a smile as she shook a pan on the stovetop.

The dining room of Lemon and Thyme was quiet in the midday lull between lunch and dinner on a weekday, but he spotted Helen, Dot, Ruth, and Judy lingering over a bottle of wine in the corner. He’d been avoiding Helen and her friends all week, not wanting to have to explain how he’d let things get so fucked up so fast. But they continued to show up at the restaurant every other day for lunch, their quiet show of support something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He stopped a server on her way past. “Send four bread puddings over to table twelve with my compliments,” he said, tilting his head towards the table in the corner.

“Yes, Chef,” the server said, ducking into the kitchen to place the order.

Jamie made his way down the hall to his office, where he knew he would sit and stare at the schedule for the festival for the hundredth time without even starting to make alternate plans. He pulled his phone out and thumbed back to the group text he had with the guys, the last message of which had come in just that morning. Ethan still hadn’t responded even once to the group chat since learning about Jamie and Tessa.

Yet another thing to worry about, he thought. Bad enough I’ve ruined my relationship with him, but now I’m dragging the other guys down, too. And Tessa’s not even here…

He pushed open the door to his office and froze in the open doorway. The overhead light was off, but the lamp on his desk had been turned on, and Ethan sat in the chair opposite the desk nursing a beer. A second bottle sat on a coaster in front of Jamie’s chair.

Without turning to look at him, Ethan inclined his bottle towards Jamie’s chair. “Have a beer with me,” he said.

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