Page 12 of With a Cherry On Top

“You need to relax, Aaron.” Amelie walks around the counter to join me. “You’re tense about your first client, but you’re ready for this. I know you are, because I personally made sure of it. Almost every day. For a year.”

She playfully glares, but instead of putting me at ease, it just makes me more nervous.

“And I have to prove that your time wasn’t wasted, that your trust wasn’t misplaced. I have to show Ian his insane choice of hiring me instead of the much more experienced candidates wasn’t a giant mistake. Oh, and let’s not forget that Ian never would’ve hired me if it weren’t for his friendship with Logan.”

Amelie clicks her tongue. “Hisfearof Logan.”

“And my brother doesnotneed more reasons to hate me.”

“I see.” Her eyes narrow. “And your parents have expectations too. Plus there’s Sadie.”

“Right! Yes!”

Her smile turns mocking.

“You don’t get it, Ames. You weren’t there.”

“When you knocked up your brother’s girlfriend?”

I glare. “Yes. I have a lot to prove—to everyone. That I’m not a heartless monster who prioritizes his dick over his closest family member, that I can parent my daughter alone, and that the career change from accounting to cooking wasn’t a financial sinkhole.” I wave a hand around. “Among other things.”

“Jeez, Aaron. You run on coffee, guilt, and a crushing sense of responsibility, don’t you?”

I reach for the butter, but Amelie snatches it out of my hands before I can grab it. “I can’t believeI’msaying this, but enough with the butter already.” She sets it down with a huff. “Aaron, trust me, I understand the need to prove yourself more than anyone. But you’ve gotta relax, man. You’re going to give yourself chest pains.”

“It’s just really important that I don’t mess this up. I’m on a path to redemption.”

At this point, I’m clinging to the desperate hope that any of this will end my probation. That Logan will stop looking at me like something disgusting is stuck to my face. And like he wants to remove it with his fist.

“You won’t mess it up. You know why?”

“Because I had the best teacher ever?” I mock.

“Exactly.” She wags a finger at me. “But I don’t appreciate the tone.”

When I manage a half-hearted smile, she steps away, only to return with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I think it’s one of those nights.”

Not every night we spent in Daisy’s kitchen over the past year was dedicated to cooking. Most were, but some were wine-and-talking only.

I grab two stools and pull them closer. Once we’re settled, Amelie pours us each a glass and takes a sip. “Aaron, look. The last year hasn’t been easy for you. If this is too much?—”

“Do you think it’s too much? Because if you’re not sure I can handle it, then?—”

“Woah.” She widens her eyes dramatically. “Youareready. But if you need more time, you can take it.”

And continue being nothing but an expense for her husband? No, I can’t. Ian paid for my course and all he’s gotten in return is less of his wife, who’s spent a good chunk of her free time helping me improve my technique and babying me through my tantrums.

It’s time I actually made him some money.

“No. I need to do this.”

Amelie pats my hand. “I agree. This is just nerves. They’ll fall away the second you start cooking. But you need to ease up on the pressure.”

“How areyouhandling the pressure?” I ask, steering the conversation away from me.

She shrugs. “Me? Pressure’s my middle name.”