Page 33 of The Second Chance Year

I blink. Alex discussed our future at work? I try to imagine him and the other guys sitting around the boardroom at Wright and Moore dissecting their relationships like they’re the four women on an episode ofSex and the City. Except that Dave is solidly on the Mr. Big end of the spectrum, and I’m having trouble picturing Zach using any form of communication that doesn’t involve fist bumps.

“It’s important to understand that the demands on Alex won’t ease once he’s promoted to a vice president at the firm. And those demands will extend to his wife.” Melinda gives me a pointed look. “Women who go into these relationships believing that their career will be of equal importance, that there will be a division of labor at home or in child-rearing…” She shakes her head. “Well, they end up very disappointed.”

I nod slowly, letting that sink in. So, this explains all the relationship talk. I’m being vetted to make sure I won’t freak out if Alex blows off our honeymoon for a merger negotiation or holds a conference call while our baby is crowning. This dinner is the beginning of my induction into the world of Wall Streetwives. And my job description seems very clear. Smile, support your husband, and keep your complaints to yourself.

But don’t worry, there will be presents. Lots of presents.

On the Uber ride home, I want to talk to Alex about my conversation with Melinda, but he fields a call from a client that sounds important. My phone buzzes as well, and I open a text from my mother.Hope dinner with Alex’s boss is going well!She follows the message with a long string of heart emojis, which, honestly, is a little strange coming from a woman with a PhD in English literature.We can’t wait to see you soon!

I don’t know why I tell her about things like this dinner with Alex’s boss. I only end up annoyed by her reactions. But then I pause with my thumbs on the keypad of my phone, shaking my head.

Actually, Idoknow why I tell her. Because this is the one part of my life that will get her attention. For years, I tried cakes and pastries. She might walk right pastmein the kitchen, but who wouldn’t stop for a five-layer strawberry coconut cake with mascarpone filling? That backfired on me, though, when my desire to turn baking into a career became an even bigger disappointment than my abysmal high school grades. But once Alex came into the picture, I started getting more phone calls from her than I had since I moved away from home.

It’s hard to understand why my well-educated and hardworking mother is more interested in talking to me about my boyfriend than my career. But my parents see Alex’s job as investment banker as respectable, while they’ve never viewedbaking as anything more than a hobby. I wonder what they’d think if I announced I planned to give it all up to become a Wall Street wife.

Our car turns south on the ramp to the FDR, and out the window, the lights of the city sparkle on the East River. Rain begins to fall, the sound drowning out Alex’s voice reassuring the client he’ll send over a spreadsheet as soon as he gets back to his apartment.

I swipe at my mom’s message to delete the whole damn thing from my phone, but I can’t delete the reality that my parents will never take me seriously. It echoes in my head, mingling with Melinda’s warning that my career will always take a back seat to Alex’s.

I glance down at my dress, and those maddening shoes, and my unease spreads like overcrowded cookie dough in a pan. Would Alex really expect me to give up baking, or view his career as more important than mine?

I shake my head. Melinda was speaking from her own experience, but that doesn’t mean my relationship will be the same. I open my purse to shove my phone in, but that teeny-tiny clutch will barely hold a Band-Aid. Instead, I turn it off and spend the rest of the ride home staring out the window at the rain hitting the sidewalk.

Chapter 17

July

The yelling reverberates all the way down the block. I stop in my tracks, thinking I’ve stumbled into the middle of a robbery, or at least two angry cats fighting over a subway rat. But as I inch my way down the alley, approaching the back door of Xavier’s restaurant, I can begin to decipher words among the jumbled garble of grunts and curses.

Sigh.

It’s just Xavier throwing another tantrum. To be honest, I’d prefer a robbery. Or a rat.

I tiptoe in the back door where I find the staff standing in a circle, staring at a large baking pan on top of a prep table. Whatever is on that pan is pink, jiggly, and Spam-like. At the sight of it, that déjà vu feeling washes over me.

Kasumi catches my eye from across the table and shakes her head. I slowly make my way around until I’m standing next to her. “What’s going on?” I ask under my breath.

“Somebody took that pan out of the refrigerator last night, and they forgot to put it back,” she whispers. “It’s hours of work and expensive ingredients, ruined.”

I peer over her shoulder at the prep table. Xavier and I were two of the last people in the kitchen yesterday. Xavier was taking an inventory of produce he wanted to pick up at the farmers market this morning while I finished the piping on a citruschiffon cake. I’d stayed in my corner by the sink, hoping not to draw attention to myself, because he was in another one of his moods, frustrated because he couldn’t find the leeks. He’d even…

Oh no.

He’d even unloaded half the refrigerator onto the prep tables to look for them. I’d left soon after, but I’m willing to bet he forgot to put that tray back when he was done.

“It was Xavier,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself. Luckily, Xavier is still ranting, so he doesn’t hear me.

Kasumi does, though. She turns to me with eyes wide. “What?”

I lower my voice. “I saw Xavier take that pan out last night. I bet he left it there by mistake.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Because I realize why this is all so familiar. I’ve seen that pink slop before. I’ve had this conversation before.

“You’ve got to say something,” Kasumi whispers.

I back away slowly. “Oh, hell no.” I’ve managed to keep my head down for all these months. Not only have I kept my job, but I’m a contender for that executive pastry chef position. Xavier has complimented my desserts multiple times, implying the job could be mine. And I want it.

The prestige something like that could bring when I start my own bakery would be huge. And the significant raise would mean I could save a lot more money. Not to mention that it would feel really good to tell my parents I’d earned a promotion like that. I’ve made it this far. I’ve put up with all this shit. I deserve that promotion, and I’m not about to blow it.

I turn to hide in the staff break room until Xavier runs out ofsteam, but Kasumi grabs my arm. “He’s blaming Samantha for this. You have to speak up.”

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