Page 37 of Let Me Hold You

“Who do you go to when you have a bad day?”

Maggie, of course. But Levi didn’t answer. Maybe people had seen him drop by Maggie’s office often, drinking the coffee she made, and sitting on the couch watching her work.

“Who do you tell secrets to that you tell no one else?”

Maggie.

As far as Levi knew, no one had seen him go to her house, complaining about the lack of love in his life. At the start of the year, Malachi had been there in the same house for a few months, so Levi didn’t think it was a big deal to show up uninvited to pal around with his buddies.

After Malachi accepted the assistant pastor position at Lakeside Chapel, he left Atlanta. Levi continued to visit Maggie in that old house with its old furnishings—because they were buddies. Malachi seemed to approve of it because he didn’t say otherwise.

Perhaps he should stop going to see Maggie.

Three more weeks and he wouldn’t be seeing her as much anymore.

For some reason, Levi felt sad thinking about that.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting the memo. So what are we doing here tonight?” Forsythia asked.

“Maybe you can get your cookbooks signed. I’ll pay for our dinner as an apology for taking time out of your busy December.”

“It will be worth it just to speak with Chef Stephanos.”

“Then let that be our goal tonight. Nothing more.”

“Deal.” Forsythia studied the menu. “They changed it. I suppose this is their winter rotation. I’m not sure I like anything…”

“Nothing at all?” A male voice spoke.

Levi looked up.

The chef de cuisine was here.

He was tall and looked younger in real life than his photos on Instagram. He seemed to be in his mid thirties. Levi had to admit that he hadn’t watched any of Chef Stephanos’s television shows, but Maggie had shown him some clips on YouTube.

Forsythia stumbled in her words and turned beet red. She almost stood up.

“No, no. No need to stand up for me, Chef Forsythia. I’m here to receive critique from you that I didn’t get with my Michelin star.”

Oops. Poor Forsythia.

Levi didn’t know what to say to help her.

“How did you know my name?” Forsythia looked surprised.

“Your name was on the reservation. You told the maître d’ to let me know when you arrived. And I have your photo from a friend of a friend of a friend.”

“At RYUCP.”

Chef Stephanos nodded.

Forsythia smiled, as if she appreciated being acknowledged by a celebrity chef. “I must defend myself, Chef Stephanos. I merely said that I wasn’t sure about your menu. I didn’t say I was certain I didn’t like this or that. Besides, I was only on the front page of your menu.”

“There is no back page.”

“No?” Forsythia flipped the menu over. “Oh.”

“Chef Forsythia, if you think my menu is lacking, I invite you to come to my kitchen and taste the dishes.”

---