Chapter 13

Carrie

Friday 5.12pm

The kitchen is filled with chatter as my staff makes the final preparations or mise en place before service.

As customary, the front of house staff have gathered around as Mike, the Sommelier tells them about the best wine pairings for my menu.

I should be paying attention. But instead of psyching myself up for a long night, I’m trying my best not to fall to pieces.

Hot tears blur my vision as I stare at the Valentine’s Day menu in front of me.

I keep my breathing slow while my heart is still thumping too wildly.

Despite my outward calm, Myles’ words run on a perpetual loop stabbing painfully into my chest.

I’m seeing someone else. I’m seeing someone else. I’m seeing someone else.

I blink rapidly, throat thick and stomach knotted, I look down at my scrawled menu featuring combinations of romantic courses.

Right up until ten minutes ago, I had this crazy idea Myles would show up like he always does right after service ends, and we’d make up the way we always do.

It’s going to be a long and busy night filled with lovey-dovey couples making eyes at each other, and if last year is anything to go by, there’ll be a few proposals.

My own relationship just ended but I have to suck it up and serve sexy food to happy couples all night.

I should have seen this coming. We’ve been on a break for six months. And deep down, I knew it was over when he moved out and said he needed space.

Except, I’d hoped somehow, he’d change his mind and see if we just held on a little longer, I would be able to balance a career and maybe, someday in the future, a family.

As silence descends I realize I’m supposed to be explaining the menu. “Um, the Venison is slow-roasted and…uh,” I mumble.

I’ve done this so many times; I can almost do it in my sleep. Even with the knowledge it’s officially over, I can still rattle off the descriptions, where the produce came from and tell the wait staff to push the lobster.

I’ve suffered through burns, nearly sliced off two fingers, been yelled at by all the Head Chefs. I’ve had pots thrown at me for being too slow on the pass.

I started working here right out of high school. When my friends were out partying, I was elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing dishes until two am.

I even had shelving collapse on my head and I still worked through the pain and not once did I miss a service or send food out cold.

But this. This phone call means my career is all I have.

My Sous-Chef elbows me and frowns. “Chef?”

I clear my throat. “Have a good service,” I mutter.

Mike seems to recognize I’m done and shoos his staff out through the double doors back into the dining room.

Aleki, my burly Samoan 2IC frowns at me and crosses his arms over his massive chest. “You’re distracted. You worrying about that family reunion going on this weekend?”

Damn it. I’d forgotten about that.

I shake my head and try to keep my voice steady. “Myles called. He wants to end things permanently.”

He spits a curse. “He told you that right before service?”

I nod, hands trembling as I look at a kitchen hand trying not to listen in.

Aleki steers me away and opens the only place in the kitchen where we have a modicum of privacy.

The walk-in refrigerator.

I wrap my arms around me and stare at the fifty lobsters all plated up. “I thought you two were just having one of your fights?” Aleki says.

I sniff. “He moved out, remember?”

Aleki exhales a frosty breath. “Yeah. But still, what a tool.”

If I wasn’t so absolutely devastated right now, I might have agreed.

I slump onto an upturned crate and stare up at Aleki. “I just need a minute. I’ll be fine,” I lie.

But he’s not convinced. Out of everyone here, Aleki knows my moods the best. “The prep is almost done. You just need to hold it together for entrees and mains.”

“I thought we just needed some time away from each other,” I say.

His voice takes on a wry tone. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder sort of thing?”

I nod but tears spring up I’m not sure I understand. I’m not sure if it’s that I failed at something, or that I was expecting him to magically change his mind.

“I know you’re feeling like shit right now, but you have to hold it together for the next couple hours.”

He’s right on both counts. I’m crushed but I also have to do my job.

“I should have prepared for this. He started talking about kids,” I croak.

He sighs and at a large bang coming from the kitchen he looks out the window in the freezer door. “You work eighty-hour weeks, and your family is certifiable.”

I just shake my head. “He’s just as traditional as my mom. The only place he thinks I should be cooking is in our kitchen.”

He squints at me and extends his hand. “We’ve got a full house tonight. You can’t let this dick wad wreck service.”

I release a shaky sigh and put my game face on. “Let’s do this. Maybe next Valentine’s I’ll actually have that raise I’m due.”

He pulls me to my feet and holds the door open for me. “I don’t know why you stick around. You’re way too good for this place.”

I’m pretty sure he’s just being sweet, but when I pull my apron on and tie it around my waist, he’s wearing a serious expression. “I mean it. You singlehandedly revived this dump.”

Since I don’t have the overinflated ego a lot of chefs develop, I just shrug and take my place at the front of the kitchen. “Well, here’s your chance to show me up. The kitchen is yours till Tuesday.”

He smiles and I know if he were anyone else I’d have to watch my back. But part of the reason Aleki and I work so well together is our similar work ethic.

He’s the reason the stress and hours are bearable. At six foot two, and two hundred pounds of solid muscle encased in chocolate skin, he’s steady, stable and if he weren’t completely and totally gay, he’d be the perfect man for me.

I shoo him away and take a few calming breaths to center myself before the chaos of service begins.

By the time the first order comes in, I forget everything else and lose myself in the process.

In the kitchen, I’m cool, calm and I rarely get flustered. Despite Myles’ news, despite the added burden of extra diners, I slip into the role, and just like I do six nights a week, I work until I’m hot, sweaty, my whole body is aching and the last dessert has been sent out.

Aleki slaps me on the back and grins. “Go have a drink and take a load off. I got this.”

I manage a weary smile and thank my crew, tell them they did great, and decline the offer to go out for a celebratory drink once the kitchen is cleared down.

I grab a beer from the fridge and head back to my office and kick my shoes off.

Guzzling the beer, and rolling my shoulders back, I slide behind my desk just as my cell buzzes on my desk.

Since this is the weekend my entire insane family are getting together, I’m not surprised it’s my sister. “Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back,” I say.

It’s almost eleven pm; she already knows I’m not coming tonight so she must be desperate. “Please, please say you aren’t leaving me to deal with the crazies on my own. You better be here in the morning.”

I release a sigh. “I told you. This weekend is Vale—"

“I know,” she snaps.

I open my email and scan them. “You are coming though? I booked you a room,” she says.

I scrunch up my face as I read the email invite to my parent’s annual family get together, I starred then promptly forgot about.

The last thing I feel like doing is hanging out with my family and explaining why Myles and I are no longer together. “Where is it again?”

Her reply comes out in a rapid rush, her voice rising with stress. “At the Wolf Mountain Ski Resort mom and dad go every season. They arrived a few hours ago. They’ve been skiing, but mom wants everyone here Sunday.”

A tiny measure of guilt grows as she starts to tell me how terrible mom and dad have been.

I still don’t understand why they haven’t divorced. Maybe I never will. But I do know what lukewarm apathy in a relationship looks like, and how it leads to bitterness.

Possibly why I’m not as upset as I probably should be right now.

Myles never shared my dreams. Never wanted to help me shift from working as Head Chef to owning my own smaller business.

It’s probably no wonder he never proposed. We didn’t exactly make a good match.

Tina’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Danny promised me he’d come tonight to help but he missed his flight. And Mitch has stomach flu, so he stayed home. I can’t do this—”

I grimace. Danny, our younger brother, is the peacemaker. Without him, and her husband Mitch, Tina will be tearing her hair out.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with them. But I told you I couldn’t make it tonight. Mom and Dad still don’t know Myles and I aren’t together anymore. So you cannot tell them.”

She’s silent for a moment, long enough for me to wonder why my big sister isn’t saying anything.

“Oh. Um, right. That,” she says.

A tiny amount of anxiety trickles down my spine. “What do you mean that?”

Her voice comes out shaky. “I was going to tell you when I saw you. I ran into Myles a week ago.”

I’m so angry; my hands start to shake. “Did he tell you he was seeing someone?”

She sucks in a breath. “No. Oh shit, Carrie, no he didn’t. He said he was hoping to stay in touch with Mitch since they go way back.”

I wince. They do go way back. Mitch introduced us. “Mom thought we were going to get married this Fall. Coming to a family reunion and having to explain that we aren’t is not what I need right now.”

“Why’d he pick tonight to tell you? I mean, even I know how big a night this is in hospitality,” she says.

I was so stunned and then so busy I never stopped to consider why.

But she’s right. And so was Aleki.

Why wait until one of the biggest nights, on the weekend he knew I’d be seeing my family.

Unless there was a time constraint, it’s unnecessarily cruel. And Myles and I had our moments, but he’s not an asshole.

Tina seems to catch on a second behind me. “He’s not planning on, you know, proposing to her tonight? And he wanted to make sure you knew before he asked?”

My stomach drops to my toes. “I, I. Damn…”

“You must feel awful? I’m sorry. I need to go. Please, please, get here so we can talk about this? The dinner isn’t until Sunday night so we’ll have all Saturday to talk. Okay?”

She hangs up before I can answer her.

I blink, my face twisting into a scowl as I try to figure out how I feel about all this.

But that’s just it. I don’t feel anything but numb right now.

I don’t know what that says about me or about Myles, but I just can’t process it right now.

Somewhere in the back of my exhausted brain, I know that the longer I keep pushing my emotions down, the worse it’ll be when they erupt.

And if I have to explain all this to my mom, I’m not sure how much longer I can contain them.

***

Xavier

Friday 11.12pm

I’m in the workshop about to call it a night when I hear the phone ring.

I check the time and my anxiety cranks up a notch higher. I swipe my greasy hands down my overalls before I pick up. “Gerald’s.”

A throaty feminine voice comes down the line. “You’re supposed to be answering ‘Gerald’s Mechanics.’”

I scowl at an oil stain on the concrete floor. “Not at this time of night.”

She near growls down the line. “Any movement on your end?”

I look around the workshop. “Nothing. And I’m running out of things to keep me busy.”

Her disdain is audible when she speaks. “That’s why I let you bring your car.”

I glance at the half-finished Mustang I’ve been tinkering with. “I’m waiting on a few parts. The weather’s delayed delivery.”

It’s obvious my boredom, and restlessness is the last thing on her mind. “Then find something else to keep you busy. That’s not why I’m calling. We’ve got an issue at home.”

I lean against the workbench and work my jaw. I never hear from Julie my operational coordinator unless absolutely necessary.

And this late at night, it can only be one of two things. I’m hoping it’s related to red tape or bureaucratic bull shit and not something I’ve done to mess this up. “What kind of an issue?”

“Jake is AWOL. Does he have your location?”

My gut clenches. I almost wish he did. It would give me the chance to knock some sense into him.

Joining the army when his girlfriend is eight months pregnant is dumber than dumb. Even for Jake. And if he’s taken off, he’ll be looking for somewhere to lick his wounds.

“I haven’t spoken to him since he was recruited. What happened?”

Julie blows out a breath. “The commanding officer called your mom. He was failing basic training. Looks like he cut and run.”

I mutter a curse. Knowing my little brother, he probably figured he could land a cushy job somewhere. I already know he finessed his way past the recruiting officer back home and used my reputation and name to get a spot.

I’m scowling at the wrench still in my hand when Julie’s irritation surges down the line. “Reid? I need to know this doesn’t impact what we’re doing here.”

I nearly grunt the words. “He has no transport, no money. Even if he could find this town on the map, there’s no way he’d be able to get here.”

I don’t add that he’d never drive twenty hours from Fort Benning to a hick town in California to come see me.

Even if he knew where I was. Which he doesn’t.

She sighs. “We don’t need any added complications. If he shows up, send him packing. I can’t afford for you to be compromised. Not now.”

My gut tightens. “That’s not going to happen.”

I hear a voice over the intercom and know she’s at the airport. “Maintain your directive. Contact with family and anyone else is a risk I can’t afford for you to take.”

I nearly snort at the mention of other people. I’ve been here since the season started and I’ve barely spoken to the handful of eccentric residents who live around the ramshackle town.

With a diner that’s closed, a flea pit motel bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Bates Motel and the garage I’m currently working from, there’s zero to no chance of anyone stopping by Frasier’s Gully long enough to cause a problem.

I remind her of why this is going to work. “The only conversations I’m having are with tourists filling up on their way to the resort. Haven’t seen anyone else in days.”

Her reply comes back clipped. “Remember you’re there to act and do what Gerald does. You’ve already established contact with the bar manager but it’s not enough. If they stick to their usual staff roster, you should be getting a call from the resort in the next few days.”

I know the couple casual shifts I’ve already done up at the resort aren’t enough. The bar manager, Steve only works winter, I need to be there off-season when the guests are down to a minimum, and the fun really starts to happen.

“Got it. If I don’t hear anything by Monday, I’ll call Steve before he leaves.”

I end the call without a goodbye and start to switch the lights off and put my tools away.

Six months I’ve been living here, hunting, fishing, working on my 1968 Fastback and completely cut off from my family and friends.

Aside from a couple weeks working as needed tending bar up at the resort, I’ve hardly left this tiny town and hardly spoken more than a few sentences to my neighbors.

Twelve months stationed in Iraq was more than enough reason to stay Stateside for as long as I could.

And this is an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

I don’t bother to lock the door, there’s no one around to break in and at this point, I’d appreciate the diversion if they did try to steal something.

I’m starting to go stir crazy and since the weather turned, it's been out of the question to head up to my makeshift firing range to blow off a little steam.

I head upstairs to the apartment above the workshop and check the weather report on the radio.

With the weather so bad, and no cable, I decide I may as well try to sleep.

Like I do every night, I take a piece of meat out of the freezer and slap it on the counter before I stumble into the tiny bathroom at the back of the apartment.

The water cylinder groans and the water pipes creak unpleasantly as the water runs down my aching body.

I’m pushing the training too hard. But with not much else to do, it’s the only thing I can do to fill the days.

I glance out the window and can just make out the headlights of a car driving through town.

With a head shake at whoever is out in this weather, I brush my teeth, check the radiator is set to sixty-four degrees and slip under the covers.

I close my eyes and try not to think about Jake or why he’s up and left without even finishing his training.

I’ll never understand his attitude. Never. He’s going to be a dad. He needs to get his shit together not take off the second things get tough.

I release a breath, turn on my side, and pretend my brother is the only thing I need to worry about.

***

You can read more of Xavier and Carrie’s story in One Wild Weekend With Xavier.

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Lexi Hart is the pen name of a crazy Kiwi romance junkie who prefers to live in the heads of her characters than her own.

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