Alice: Are you forked-up on the good whiskey again? What the hell are you talking about?
I laugh as I realize the history of a tire company may not be something Alice would willingly research. I consider telling her not to worry about it, to enjoy her day off. But I know she would kill me if I didn’t at least give her the opportunity to decide if she wants to earn her stars this way.
Me: Got a tip Michelin will be here tonight.
Alice: Is Edward trying to get on your good side by tipping you off?
Me: Can’t put anything past you. You coming in?
Alice: I don’t know if this is how I want to get my stars.
Me: You’re not going to do anything different tonight. Your conscience won’t allow it.
Alice: Are you saying I’m incapable of cheating?
Me: I bloody hope so.
Alice: You’re right. I’m not coming in. I’ll earn my stars another time.
Me: Are you sure? I really don’t think you’ll perform differently than any other night.
She doesn’t respond for a few minutes, and I’m tempted to ring her. But as soon as I put the phone down to get back to my email inbox, another text comes through.
Alice: Do you need me there so you can try for your third star?
Me: I always need you, love. And I’d rather share the third star with you. But I understand if you’d rather sit this one out.
Alice: Thank you for understanding. I’ll think about it.
I put my mobile away, but I can’t put away my anxiety over tonight. I really wish Edward had not texted me.
It’s not that I care about whether I get that third star. I have no doubt my talented kitchen staff will rise to the challenge without being told about the anonymous reviewer. And I’m fairly confident in my ability to reign in my showmanship, so I can eke out a legitimate win for the team.
What I’m afraid of is stagnation. What if the review is only two stars again?
I feel I’ve grown so much since I’ve started working with Alice, but maybe it’s not professional growth. Maybe it’s merely emotional. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but it would be something of a wake-up call.
Also, I’m not sure how Alice will feel if I earn a three-star review for Forked without her. Will it affect our relationship? I really don’t want to believe we’d let something like that cause tension between us. But it’s a huge accomplishment, so it’s not impossible.
I decide to forget responding to email for now. Maybe if I focus on cooking, I can force these worried thoughts out of my mind.
The time passes with the swiftness of cold treacle. By the time lunch service is over and the tasting menus start getting passed out to customers, I’m properly knackered and craving a large swig of whiskey. I resist the impulse to retreat to my office for a breather.
I also manage to resist the urge to leave the kitchen to see if I can recognize any of the patrons arriving for the dinner service. But I can’t resist checking my phone every few minutes.
I forgot to ask Alice to text me her decision. Now I’m left wondering if she’s already decided not to come. Maybe she doesn’t want to disturb my flow by messaging me. The suspense is killing me.
Finally, as the first order for a tasting menu arrives in the kitchen, I can’t take it any longer. I slide my mobile out of my pocket and send Alice a text.
Me: You coming in, love?
I stare at my screen for a moment, waiting for a response. But after a minute with no reply, I put my phone away. I have to focus on service.
“Is that the first tasting menu order?”
I spin around at the sound of Alice’s voice. “Bloody hell, woman.”
She smiles as she ties her apron around her waist. “You think I’d leave you high and dry?”
A grin spreads across my face, and I lean over to plant a quick kiss on her temple. “I told you.”
“Told me what?” she asks, sliding the ticket in front of her workstation.
“Everything. Everywhere,” I say, my way of reminding her that I need her everywhere and more than everything.
Her face lights up with a gorgeous smile. “My answer is yes.”
I call out an order for a Kingfish, then turn back to Alice. “Yes to what?”
“The holidays. We can go to your parents.” She chuckles at the confused look on my face. “Your mom called me.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, accepting the Kingfish from Warner and placing it on my workstation.
She stops working on the red wine reduction to look me in the eye. “Everything. Everywhere.”
I take her face in my hands and kiss her in front of the entire staff. It’s the first time I’ve ever done this in the kitchen, but if Alice keeps making me so bleeding happy, it probably won’t be the last.
The sound of the staff singing stops us. Alice and I immediately start laughing as we realize they’re singing the song “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross. It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for the day we forked-up and did something like this in front of them.
I wave my hands in the air. “All right, all right. Back to work, everyone.”
Alice’s face is bright-crimson as she returns to her red wine reduction. “Did someone raise the heat in here?” she says, fanning her face.
As I prepare the Kingfish for the fourth course, I have no idea whether today’s menu and service will be good enough to earn us a three-star review. And I realize now that I don’t care.
The only thing that matters to me is keeping a smile on the face of the gorgeous woman standing next to me. My partner in crime. My love. My everything, everywhere.
Epilogue
ALICE
The breathtaking city views from the rooftop terrace of our loft in the East Village are nothing short of stunning. I expected to haul my belongings to Ethan’s modest studio in Chelsea when Ethan and I moved in together a year ago. Imagine my surprise when he told me we would be shopping for something more permanent.
I was downright shocked when he told me the price range. The shock quickly turned to gratitude when I realized spending that kind of money not only affords us an amazing view. It also means I can walk to work when the trains are delayed.
I sigh as I lean back in my lounge chair, a cold bottle of beer clutched in one hand. You can take the girl out of Brooklyn, and all that. Ethan has yet to find a varietal of wine consistent enough for my palate.
The softly lit Washington Square Arch stands solemnly on my right. The city lights shimmer against a backdrop of dark sky, wrapping around me like a cozy duvet. My Manhattan security blanket.
I spend a few minutes on the rooftop every night, taking in the views to remind myself how lucky I am; how thankful I am to be home. How grateful I am that Ethan rescued me from the internship in Paris.