“Should I be worried about my job?” he jokes, his dark eyes sparkling with humor.
I laugh. “Not at all. I woke up and felt like cooking.”
He opens the glass container with the flour and hands it to me. “Pancakes?”
“Thank you, and yes.”
“You’re welcome.” His gaze follows my every move, watching me scoop the flour and depositing it in the bowl. “Family recipe?”
“Yep, my aunt’s. She used to wait tables at a diner back home.” I grin, remembering the day she came home, a smug smile on her face because she finally got Johnny, the cook and owner of the diner, to share his famous recipe with her. “She got the recipe from the owner, who got it from his grandmother, and so forth. Would you like to try them?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. I really should be making them for you.”
I throw him a pointed look. “Evan, eat the damn pancakes.”
Evan chuckles. “All right, boss.”
I prepare a plate for him and place it in front of him. As I watch him reach for his knife and fork, I feel excited and nervous to find out what he thinks. He takes a bite and closes his eyes oohing and ahhing.
He swallows the first bite. “Fuck.” He takes another bite. “These are something else.”
“Pretty amazing, right?” I lean my hip on the counter as I watch him dig in, quite proud of myself. I reach for my coffee and take a sip, enjoying the taste of the Colombian brew. “Tell me, did you always know you wanted to be a chef?”
Evan takes the last bite, leaving his plate completely clean. Wipes his mouth with a napkin and turns his attention back to me. “No,” he chuckles, “I went to dental school, but flunked out. Too much partying and drinking. I think my heart just wasn’t in it, you know? My parents were pretty pissed, so they kicked me out and stopped paying my bills. They said it was time I got a dose of reality. It sucked really bad for a while.”
“Because you had no money?”
“Well, that and because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I was crashing at Lara’s at the time. Every morning I woke up and watched her get ready for her internship, she was excited to go to work and learn. And there I was just sitting around, playing Xbox, waiting for my girlfriend to come home. Waiting for life to start.”
“I like that … waiting for life to start.”
“I felt useless, you know?”
If Evan only knew how much I understand. “I think I have an idea.”
“Do you really?” he asks, surprise registering in the tone of his voice.
I nod, not wanting to elaborate. “So, what did you do?” I ask quietly, holding onto his next words as though they were the answer to my own questions.
“Well, I enjoyed cooking. Until then I’d considered it a hobby, something I was good at but never really thought about it as a career. But one day, Lara suggested I talk to her uncle who owned a diner in Bayside. Maybe he could give me a job. I drove all the way to Queens, and the rest is history.” He stands up to place the plate in the sink. “Cooking is not only a job; it’s my passion. What about you?”
“What about me?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Any passions?”
“Well, I enjoy cooking for sure.” I put down the coffee mug on the counter and play with the handle. “But I wouldn’t call it a passion necessarily.” Memories of the lovely afternoons spent in Mr. Lemaire’s flower shop tending to the flowers, making them come alive once again swirl around me. “Flowers,” I say slowly, smiling. “Flowers are my passion.” Their beauty, their smell, the way they brighten a room with color, bringing it to life. “They make me happy.”
He pauses, seemingly measuring his next words. “You know, my sister owns a small flower shop in Rye. Nothing fancy, but she’s happy. Busy. Would you like me to find out if she’s looking for help?”
My heart begins to drum madly as my soul growls in hunger for the chance to taste this opportunity, to sink my teeth in, swallow it, and let it nourish me. Ever since I came back from Paris, there’s a hunger in me that wasn’t there before. I’m tired of sitting around and letting life pass me by. No, I want to be someone I am proud of. So the old Valentina and the new meet and collide like waves crashing against rocks. And I’m okay with it, because I know I will find my footing.
“Would you really do that for me?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I stare out the window, watching the morning sky, and get swept away by hope. Maybe things do have a way to work themselves out.
“What’s the special occasion?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I smile at my husband who’s standing by the entrance to the kitchen. He looks relaxed and confident and handsome. He’s the kind of man you picture as your knight in shining armor, the courageous hero in a novel come to save the damsel in distress. So unlike …
I catch the direction of my thoughts and steer them back to safety. “Hungry?” I ask, wiping my hands on the towel hung over the oven handle.
He closes the space between us, loosening his tie. “Starving.”
“Good. I made enough food to feed an army, I think.”
I watch as William takes everything in, me standing by the stove, the dress I’m wearing, our wedding china sitting on the white granite, a crystal vase filled with white roses next to the plates. “Where’s Evan?”
“He came in the morning, but I told him to take the rest of the day off. I made you dinner instead.” I turn the stove off and walk into his arms. Standing on my tiptoes, I tilt my head back and grin. “We’re celebrating.”
“We are?” William places a quick kiss on the tip of my nose as his hands go to my hips. His fingers knead my skin and pull me flush against him, his touch warm and inviting. He lowers his head to my neck and shoulder, showering me with small kisses that stir my body awake yet my heart remains calm, unmoved. “Are you pregnant, my darling?”
Flushing, I shake my head. Since I got back from Paris, William reaches for me almost every night. He paints my body with kisses and his tongue while filling me with his seed.
“No, not that.”
Needing to put some space between us, I go to retrieve the bottle of red sitting on the counter. With my back to him, I take a deep, calming breath. When I’ve schooled my features into a composed disguise, I turn to face him once more, pasting a smile.
“Remember all those floral design classes I took a while back?”
“Vaguely, but yes.” William grabs a carrot from the salad and pops it into his mouth.
“I know I haven’t said much about Paris, but during my stay there I helped an older gentleman at his flower shop.” I smile, remembering Mr. Lemaire. “Obviously I didn’t really know what I was doing, but it felt good to have a purpose. To do something. I’d like to think the experience changed me.”