Page 194 of With a Cherry On Top

Ian shoves my shoulder. “Oh, come on, Aaron.”

“What?”

“Amelie obviously wants you to be her sous. Are you going to make her spell it out for you? She was just angry.”

“Are you sure she still wants...actually, it doesn’t matter.” A deep breath, a moment to steady myself. “I don’t think I want it.”

Ian’s expression falters, the amusement in his eyes dimming. “You don’t?”

My heart pounds as I put words to something I’ve been afraid to admit even to myself. “I love cooking with Amelie, butworking in a restaurant is...” I close my eyes briefly. “It’s the closest thing to a nightmare I’ve experienced in a kitchen.”

Ian’s lips part, but he stays silent, letting me talk.

“I like being a private chef. I don’t think I’m cut out for being a chef in a high-stakes restaurant. And I’ve already disappointed Amelie. She doesn’t deserve more hurt, but?—”

“Aaron—”

“No, let me finish.” I bounce my gaze over to where Sadie is dancing with Darren, then continue. “Charlotte walked out on her abuser, even after everything Beatrice did to her. She did it because she knew she couldn’t keep playing a part that wasn’t hers. And maybe she’ll forever be the villain in her mom’s story, but...it doesn’t matter.

“For the last seven years—hell, maybe longer, I’ve lived my life for other people. For Josie. Then for Sadie. I’ve held myself to impossible standards, trying to earn Logan’s forgiveness, trying to deserve Amelie’s teachings. Then Charlotte came, and...” I swallow hard. “I finally did something for myself.”

When he smirks, I hold up a finger. “Donotmake that joke. You’re better than Kyle.”

“Fine.”

“She helped me realize I can’t keep being the guy who makes himself unhappy to repair his old mistakes. That I need to forgive myself if I want everyone else to. And that sometimes, I need to be a villain in someone else’s story to be a hero in mine.”

Ian watches me for a moment like he’s considering my words. “So...you want to be a private chef.”

“Yes.” The certainty in my voice surprises me. “No late nights at the restaurant, no sweating in a kitchen as hot as the inner circle of hell, no people screaming left and right while I rush through dishes like a machine. I want to listen to the ingredients. Every sizzle, the sound of the knife hitting the board, the angry bubbling of boiling water. I want to watch them slowlytransform, to smell them as they roast, simmer, melt. And I want to take my time with each step. Make sure everything is perfect.”

“Okay.” He tips his beer toward me. “I’ll give you a call once I’m settled in Mayfield. For your briefing.”

I blink. “What?”

Like it’s nothing, he taps his foot in time with the music. “We have quite the waitlist. You can start with a new client as soon as next week.”

I stare at him. “You’re—you’re offering me my job back?”

He gives me a look likeWho are you kidding?then says, “We both know if it was up to me, you’d still have your job. I didn’t want to fire you. Scold you, sure. Reassign you? Definitely. Tease you until the end of time? Oh, absolutely—by the way, that’s still happening. But fire you? No.”

“But—”

“Do you want the job?” he presses.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” I rush out.

“Cool.” He snaps his fingers. “I have the perfect family for you. Sweet married couple, both in finance. Three kids still living at home.” He squeezes my shoulder with a smirk. “All boys.”

“Funny, boss.”

Ian’s still cackling as he walks away, his shoulders shaking.

It’s not funny. Not funny at all.

But I’ve got my job back.

“May I have this dance?”