Page 145 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

“No.” He shook his head. “No way. I’m not celebrating this with my parents. It’s not happening. We’ll do something just the two of us.”

“It’s one night of your life,” she snapped. “And you always said the Michelin star wasn’t a big deal to you, anyway. Whatdoes it matter how we celebrate? I spoke to your mum today, and she suggested we drive down to Bath tomorrow and have a night there with them. She’ll get Rachel to come along and cook, and we can have a nice evening with them.”

“I’d rather just not go out. I’ll tell Liam he doesn’t need to cover for me after all, and I’ll work over the weekend as usual.”

“I already told your mum,” Anna complained. “Plus, we can go into Bath on Saturday and get some supplies I need for my candles and greetings cards.”

“So this is not actually anything to do with celebrating the Michelin star? You just fancy a weekend trip?” He regretted the words instantly. “Sorry,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you really not want to go?”

Of course he didn’t want to go. Didn’t she know him at all?

“We can just have dinner with them,” she said quietly. “Then disappear off to the hot tub with a bottle of champagne…”

He rubbed his eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”

Warren should probably have fought his case harder, but he’d never got over his issue of not being able to say no to Anna. Something he should probably rectify to avoid getting himself into situations like this one – driving down to his parents’ place on a Friday afternoon and feeling as though there was hot lava inside him, waiting to erupt.

After the week he’d had, there was no way he’d be able to deal with his parents calmly. He was even struggling not to snap at Anna, and she was the one person who could never normally get under his skin.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her words slicing through the tension in the car.

“Yes,” he said tightly, the first time he’dspoken in an hour.

“You’re very quiet.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “It’s been a stressful week.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, wondering how she hadn’t noticed he’d had a tricky week. “It’s just been a little disappointing. A Michelin star should be a highlight of my career, but I guess it feels pretty underwhelming.”

“You always said you didn’t even care about getting one.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t care aboutnotgetting one!” he fumed. “Getting one is quite a big deal. It would be nice if people would acknowledge that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “But you’ve spent the last year telling everyone you didn’t care either way, so maybe that’s the problem.”

“Surelyyouknow how much it means to me?” A lump formed in his throat as his ribs squeezed his lungs. “Youknow how hard I’ve worked for this. It would be nice ifyouwere proud of me.”

“I am.” Her voice sounded brittle, and he wished he’d kept his emotions bottled up, but after a week of doing that, he seemed to have reached his limit. “Of course I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t understand why you thought it was a good idea to meet up with my parents.”

“Because they’re really proud of you…”

“Of course they are! Now that I have a Michelin star for them to brag about. But I’m not interested in celebrating with the people whoonlycare about the big achievements.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice.”

“Whatever.” He shook his head and rummaged in the centre console for the fob for the automatic gates as they came into view. “I’ll just drink a lot and ignore them. My usual plan.”

“Warren.” Anna put her hand on his arm. “I’m sure it will be fine.”