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Chapter Fourteen

Ramona

T his wasn’t supposed to be any more than lunch between two consenting adults on a day that happened to also be my birthday. But it’s turned into something so much more than that. Not only did Cooper bring me to one of the most beautiful places in the city, but he called in a personal favor to get my lunch from The Silver Spoon.

“I probably should’ve checked the weather before coming up with this master plan,” Cooper muses as he pulls away from me, his head tilting back to examine the darkened sky.

“Meh. It’s always cloudy here, but it doesn’t always mean rain.”

We rarely get that much rain here, but the weather has been a little fickle for this time of year. Not only has it been unseasonably warm for the fall, but we’ve had way more rain than usual. I hope this doesn’t mean we are shaping up to have a snowy winter. The powers that be can give us all the rain they want. I’d gladly trade in the rain for snow any day, although both are equally cold. It could be worse. We could live in Forks, Washington. I believe that place gets enough rain for the entire state.

“Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone. Now, open the basket and show me what Ollie cooked up for us.” I smile down at him as he pulls out a red-and-white-checkered blanket, the perfect blanket to sit and enjoy whatever Oliver packed for us.

“I called Alise to ask her what you like, and she said comfort food, so that’s what I told Ollie. Your guess is as good as mine about what’s in here.”

“I told you I hate surprises…”

“Even when we can be surprised together?” He smiles a panty-melting smile, complete with two perfect dimples on each cheek. God, those dimples are gonna be the death of me. Seriously, Darius has a small but faint one on his right cheek. All he has to do is flash it in my direction, and I immediately cave, giving him whatever the hell he wants.

“The verdict is still out.” I laugh, dropping onto the blanket across from him. “However, anything Ollie makes is guaranteed to be delicious in my book.”

“Let’s see what he planned for us.” Cooper pulls containers out of the basket, placing them in various locations on the blanket.

The most amazing smells assault my senses as he picks through the basket. Each container is, thankfully, admitting a distinct scent, some meaty and savory, others with a sugary saccharine smell. Whatever Oliver chose for us from his menu is bound to be amazing if it tastes even half as good as it smells.

My eyes scan over each container, trying to get a peek at what’s inside, but the covers are the same black color as the containers. “I can’t believe you convinced Oliver James to make us lunch.”

I’ve wanted to eat there since I saw Oliver on the Today show last year. His passion for cooking was sparked by his mother, but instead of going to some fancy culinary school, he wanted to stay close to his family, choosing to go to Portland Community College for two years before working his way up the culinary ladder and finally being made executive chef at The Silver Spoon two years ago. He’s one of the youngest ever executive chefs in the world, and I get to eat his masterpieces like this is a regular occurrence.

“It’s no big deal. He has some free time before the restaurant opens for lunch.”

“Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me, Cooper. I know this is probably a regular, everyday occurrence for you, but for me, this is a big deal.”

I fidget in place, trying to find the words to convey exactly how much this means to me. Ever since I laid eyes on Cooper, it feels like my entire existence has flipped into overdrive. I was content with my life, going to work, taking care of Ma and Darius, and sometimes having time for a movie night with Alise. I was content, but then in came Cooper Hendrix, turning my world upside down and making me want things I have no business dreaming of. I don’t deserve them, not after what I’ve done.

“I understand. I didn’t intend to overwhelm you. I just want to make you feel special on your very special day.” Cooper stops what he’s doing, reaching over the basket to grip my hand.

“It’s just the day I was born.”

Today is just like any other day. Maybe when you’re younger, birthdays are a much bigger deal. But the older you get, they become just another day. There are birthday parties and sleepovers with friends when you’re younger, but the excitement of turning one year older dies down, the older you get. After my eighteenth birthday, I stopped celebrating them altogether. I try to have lunch with Alise and grab a drink if possible, but nothing elaborate. Now it’s just another day that passes. Nothing special to celebrate.

“Which deserves to be celebrated.” I open my mouth to rebut his statement, but he shakes his head. “Birthdays are a big deal in my family. Bigger than Christmas, if you can imagine that.”

“Wow.”

I can’t even imagine going all out like that for my birthday. We didn’t even do anything elaborate on my birthday when I was younger. Suddenly, I’m picturing Cooper growing up, his bedroom full of colorful balloons and his parents standing at the end of the bed, holding a sign that says Happy Birthday written in bold letters. I chuff softly, wondering what it would be like to be celebrated like that by your family instead of whispering about it behind your back.

Don’t get me wrong. Ma and Darius aren’t like that. But everyone else knows that my birthday isn’t a cause for celebration. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the fact that I was even born. If I hadn’t been, Darius and Ma’s life would be drastically different.

Cooper gives my hand another hard squeeze, breaking my melancholy mood. Right now, a gorgeous man is feeding me lunch from one of the best restaurants in the city. The least I can do is give him my full attention. I can wallow later, and Lord knows I will. I do it every year.

“Stop complaining, and let me spoil you as rotten as I can on such short notice. Trust me, this is nothing compared to what I could do with some time to plan.”

I still can’t get over the fact that Oliver and Cooper are friends. Close friends, judging by the lengths Oliver went through to help Cooper surprise me for my birthday. If this is the best he can do on short notice, I don’t even want to know what he’d do with some time to plan. I don’t think my heart and mind could take it. But I resign myself to enjoying today. It’s going to be such a hardship.

“Okay. Spoil away.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Grab a container and dig in. We aren’t leaving here until you’ve taken a bite of every dish.” Cooper smiles, handing me one of the smaller round containers wrapped in foil. It’s still warm to the touch. Must be a soup or stew of some kind. “You aren’t allergic to anything, are you?”

Cooper’s entire demeanor changes as he looks over my face with concern, no doubt beating himself up over the possibility of me not being able to enjoy the feast he had prepared for us. Every single emotion is written on his face as he switches from basic concern to downright terror that I’m going to tell him something terrible and ruin everything.

Usually, this is a blessing, knowing exactly what someone is thinking, but with Cooper, it’s a curse. How am I going to continue hiding away my emotions when he’s wearing his right there on his sleeve for me to see? Ma was right. At the very least, Cooper Hendrix is attracted to me, but it could be more. And that terrifies me. I’m gonna owe Ma that dinner.

“Nope.” His shoulders sag in relief as I peel back the foil around the container and lift the lid.

I remove the lid and am immediately assaulted by the earthy, slightly sweet aroma that can only be described as a mushroomy scent mixed with fresh thyme and white wine. If I had to guess, it’s probably a type of mushroom soup with caramelized mushrooms sprinkled along the top.

“Thank goodness. I didn’t even think to ask Alise that before ordering food.” Cooper hands me a spoon with a napkin.

“Even if I had allergies, it wouldn’t matter. Oliver prepared enough food to feed an entire army. How the hell did he expect the two of us to eat all this?”

I waste no time digging into my soup. The minute the warm liquid hits my lips, I barely suppress the moan of pure bliss threatening to escape my lips. The earthy-with-a-hint-of umami flavor makes my taste buds explode as the creamy liquid slides down my throat. The dominant flavor, as expected, is mushrooms. But I also taste hints of paprika, giving it a little kick at the end that I don’t hate. I don’t hesitate, scooping up another mouthful and shoving it into my mouth, my eyes drifting shut as I try to find any other flavors I might have missed.

“I told you I didn’t know what you like to eat, so I asked him to bring at least one of everything on his menu. I definitely overestimated the amount of food that would be.” Cooper smiles sheepishly at me, grabbing his own container and popping the lid.

“I don’t mind. I have no idea when I’ll have another chance to eat the cooking of a world-famous chef.” I giggle before gently placing the container on the blanket and grabbing my bag.

I rummage through my bag, searching for my most prized possession. The panic builds the longer it takes for me to find it. I pull items out, my wallet, cell phone, and keys and place them on the blanket but still come up empty.

“I know it’s here. It has to be here,” I mutter, my chest tightening as I feel another panic attack coming on.

But then my fingers brush against the metal spirals, holding it together, and I sigh in relief, pulling a light blue notebook covered in different restaurant stickers and souvenirs I’ve collected over the years. This is the only piece of my old life that I’ve kept. A memory of the person I once was before that night.

“What’s that?” Cooper asks, taking a huge bite of some type of sandwich, probably a grilled cheese, based on the string of gooeyness that stretches from his mouth to the remaining piece in his hand.

“My recipe notebook.” I flip open the worn notebook, searching for a blank page.

I used to pore over this book for hours, looking for the perfect combination of herbs and spices to make some of my favorite dishes into something I could call my own. I used to call it a new spin on comfort food. I planned on getting the proper training and opening my very own café in Redwood Falls. The residents of the town deserve something other than greasy diner food from The Pit Stop or having to drive no less than twenty minutes to get anything else.

My fingers trail across the pages filled with my design ideas for the café. I wanted something open-concept, with a wall of windows to let all the air in. The floor-to-ceiling windows would be a moving glass system, opening onto a patio in the summer to allow the breeze and fresh air to fill the space.

I planned to call it Glow. That’s what my dad said I looked like every time I came up with a new idea for a recipe. He gave me my love of cooking at an early age. I just wanted to show him that all the time we spent in the kitchen, perfecting recipes, wasn’t in vain. Too bad there’s no way this will ever become a reality. It will remain one of my closely guarded secrets. A dream that once was my driving force to keep pushing forward has become nothing but a distant memory. Memorialized on the page of this notebook.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.” I sniffle, searching through my bag for a pen. I find it quickly, jotting down all my ideas and combinations of flavors I can turn into a soup. Something unlike anything anyone has tasted. Something that is specifically only mine.

“I was going to go to culinary school after I graduated high school, but that didn’t work out.”

“That’s why you were so enthralled with Ollie, isn’t it?”

I nod my head, not bothering to look up from my notebook. For the first time in months, my mind is full of new ideas, and I want to get them down on paper before they disappear into the monotony of life again.

“Yeah. I read in an article that Oliver didn’t even know culinary schools were a thing. He made his mark on the culinary world, carving out a space for himself that only he could occupy. And now he’s one of the most famous chefs in the world.”

“You can be, too, you know.”

“It’s not that simple, Cooper.” I drop my pen into the notebook, marking my place. As always, the inspiration has disappeared, bringing me back down to reality when I remember how things are now.

“Because of Darius?”

I practically recoil at his statement. It’s because of me I had to give up my dreams. Because of my selfishness and desire to want something more than I deserved. If I’d just stayed and listened to what Dad and Imani had to say, I could be where Oliver is today. Lofty dreams and beliefs don’t always get you what you want. Sometimes they take everything you never appreciated away from you in an instant. I made my bed, and now it’s time to lie in it. And that has not a damn thing to do with Darius.

“I love Darius with every fiber of my being. Everything, and I mean everything, I do is for him. To make sure he never wants for anything. As long as I draw breath, Darius will have anything his heart desires,” I respond with conviction, pulling my legs to my chest and curling my arms around them.

“But at what expense, Beauty? You don’t have to give up on your own dreams in the process of helping him reach his own.” Cooper reaches for me, his hand outstretched, ready to take hold of mine, but he hesitates.

I don’t want to talk about this. Not now, not here. Memories of that night filter through my mind, making it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Tears stream down my cheeks as every detail of that night flashes through my mind. I clench my eyes closed tightly, praying to the powers above to help me put them back into their box. A box I keep tightly shut for 90 percent of the year but has slowly creaked open. It’s all too much for me to take. I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m suffocating from the inside out. “I-I have to go.”

I’m gasping for air as I clamber to my feet, my head swiveling back and forth as I search for a place to escape. I can hear Cooper saying something, but I can’t focus on what he’s saying. The next thing I know, he’s on his feet, creeping toward me. His arms are outstretched in surrender as he moves toward me as if I’m a caged animal, ready to bolt the moment anyone gets too close. I try to keep myself rooted in place. Every muscle in my body is tensing, trying to will myself not to move. But the moment I feel his fingers brush against my hand, I bolt, running back the way we came in.

I can hear Cooper calling my name, but I don’t stop. I need to get away from all of this. From him. From the feelings of guilt and shame that are about to envelop me whole. I don’t think—I just run. Thankfully, there aren’t too many people walking around the gardens, probably because of the now-ominous clouds filling the sky. No matter how far I run, I’ll never be able to escape the memories.

I can see it clearly in my mind, like it was yesterday. I applied to the Culinary Institute of America in New York on a whim, against my parents’ wishes, I might add, so when the acceptance letter came, they understandably had questions.

My mom was indifferent to the whole idea of me going to culinary school, wanting me to do something more meaningful with my life, like becoming a lawyer or doctor. But neither of those professions suited me. Not only did I used to have a hard time following rules, but being stuck behind a desk wasn’t my idea of a good time.

My dad got to the mailbox before me and snagged the letter. “I thought we talked about this, Ramona. You are only eighteen years old. You may love cooking now, but who knows if that will still be your passion in a few years.”

He waves the envelope in the air to make a point, but it doesn’t matter. I want to make something of myself to follow my dreams, and heading to New York is the fastest way to get there. The culinary scene in New York is unparalleled. I’d have to start at the bottom and probably work my way up the ladder while I attend the institute, but once I graduate I’ll be set and on my way to opening a restaurant.

“Dad, it’s been my passion since I was five years old when you showed me how to crack an egg on my own. It’s in my blood like it was in yours until you gave up.”

Before my parents were married, Dad was an up-and-coming chef in Detroit. Self-taught by his own grandmother, he worked his way up the ranks in a small soul food restaurant, but then my mom got pregnant with Imani. He gave up on his dream and took a safe job that he knew would bring home a steady paycheck and benefits. I can’t blame him for doing so, but I can blame him for trying to force me down the same path. I’m not married, nor do I have children of my own. Why should I take the safe path instead of shooting for the moon?

“That was rude. Apologize to your father. Now.” My mother’s tone leaves no room for interpretation, but I won’t budge. I could apologize, but I mean every word I said.

“Why don’t we all have a seat and talk this over as a family?” Imani strolls into the room, Darius following closely on her heels.

I lean down and pick him up, needing some sort of distraction, and nothing distracts my parents better than their adorable six-year-old grandson. “Hey, little man. How was school today?”

He shrugs his shoulders before burying his nose in my neck. “What is it, little man? Auntie Mona can’t fix it if she doesn’t know what’s wrong.”

“He got into an altercation with one of the other boys at school.” Imani narrows her eyes at her son, daring him to say anything in rebuttal.

“Did he deserve it?” I whisper, hoping he was the only one who heard me, but with no such luck. Imani answers instead. “One hundred and ten percent. That little sh–bad boy deserved a lot more than the punch in the nose he got, but we’re supposed to use our words, not our fists when we have a problem, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, turning to look directly at his mother. “But sometimes you need to teach someone a lesson for saying mean things about the people you love.”

“It was Thomas, wasn’t it?” Darius shakes his head affirmatively, and my jaw clenches shut. Thomas is a prime example of parents needing to watch what they say around their children because they will, in fact, turn around and start spewing said nonsense to anyone who’ll listen.

Although Imani believed she had a good relationship with Thomas’s mother, she was in fact talking mad shit behind Imani’s back. Apparently Imani, and only Imani, is going to cause the downfall of morals in the town of Redwood Falls by not being part of a good Christian marriage, not to mention allegedly living off the good, God-fearing taxpayers’ money to subsidize her drug habit and whatever other bullshit Thomas’s mother and her friend could spew.

Now we all know this is complete bullshit. Imani is a paralegal at a snotty law firm in Portland. She rents a house only a few blocks away, wanting to be closer to Ma and Dad since Darius was born. The only thing the woman is right about is that Imani is a single mother. Darius’s dad is a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve either of them, but I usually keep my opinion about this to myself.

“This might be all my fault,” I say sheepishly, placing Darius’s feet on the floor. “Why don’t you go to my room and watch some cartoons while Momma, Nanny, Papa, and Auntie Mona talk?”

“Is that all right, Momma?” Darius looks up at his mom, waiting for her to give her approval.

“Sure thing, pumpkin.” Darius takes off out of the kitchen and down the hall toward my room.

I wait for him to disappear around the corner before turning back to my parents and older sister. “I told Darius that we need to stand up for the ones we love because no one else would.” Imani narrows her eyes at me, ready to lay into me, but I continue. “I didn’t tell him to punch the kid, but I can’t say I disapprove of his methods. Bullies need to be taught a lesson, and sometimes words aren’t enough.”

“While I can’t say I disagree with you, we can’t go around punching every racist asshole in the face for the dumb shit they say.” Imani pulls me in for a one-armed hug before taking a seat at the kitchen table next to Dad.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Ramona Jacqueline King,” Ma chastises from her place on the other side of the room. “Whatever you might think for yourself, it’s up to your sister how she raises her son, not you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, my eyes narrowing as I take in the scene in front of me. “Why do I feel like you aren’t here to tell us what happened at school with little man, Imani?”

“Because I’m not. What happened with Darius at school was just an unexpected bonus.” Imani leans back in the chair, her hands braced on either side of her gorgeous afro.

There was no way this was happening. I get it from my parents, but not Imani. Never Imani. “Not you, too, Sissy.”

“Oh, don’t start. You haven’t called me that since you were ten years old.”

“It’s because I haven’t needed to use your loyalty against our parents since I was ten years old.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. We all want what is best for you.” Ma places her hand on mine, giving it a small squeeze.

“How about a compromise? Instead of going all the way to New York, why not attend one of the community colleges here in Portland? You can take your time and figure out what you really want to do with your life, and if you still want to go to culinary school after you get an associate’s degree, we’ll support you 100 percent.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. The only way I can get your support is if I do exactly what you ask me to do. Sounds pretty transactional, doesn’t it?”

“Ramona.” Dad sighs. “It’s not like that at all.”

“So everything you’ve said to me growing up about always supporting me and wanting me to be happy? What was that? A bunch of fucking bullshit is what it was!” I screech, pushing back from the chair and heading right for the door.

“Ramona Jacqueline King, get your scrawny behind back here. We aren’t done speaking to you yet,” Dad commands, leaving no room for argument. Too bad for him I don’t give a shit right now.

“No thanks, Dad.” I grab my bag from the hook, wrenching the door open.

I should’ve just stormed out and cooled off, but I didn’t. I had to spin around before leaving and put the nail in the proverbial coffin. “Just because you two were too chicken to follow your dreams doesn’t mean I’m going to crash and burn like you did.”

“I didn’t crash and burn, Ramona. I had a child, a son that I needed to look after. The art scene is just as much about being seen by the right people as it is about talent. I had a responsibility to Darius.”

“Whatever you say. Sometimes I wish I had never been born into this family. A bunch of washed-up sellouts who would rather toe the line instead of taking a chance on anything worthwhile.”

That was the last thing I ever said to my dad and sister. After I took off, I literally walked around the woods near my house until the sun went down, and even a little while after that. I didn’t have anywhere to hide out. I didn’t want to be found, not yet. I needed time to calm down before talking to any of them again. I needed a way to calmly explain to them why going to NYC was so important. That I needed to do this my way, and I’d do it with or without their support.

When I finally came home, there was a single police car parked in the driveway. I’ll never forget the way Ma’s guttural scream echoed around the trees in the yard as she crumbled to the ground with Darius locked in her arms. I learned later that Dad and Imani went looking for me, spending most of the night searching for me, even going into town. They were T-boned by a drunk driver peeling out of The Pit Stop parking lot. Both of them died at the scene.

The tears blur my vision, making it almost impossible for me to keep going. I swipe at my cheeks, but it does nothing but bring on a fresh wave of tears. This is what I get for wanting something for myself. I’ve spent the last six years of my life revolving around my mother and Darius. It was my fault they lost their husband and mother. It was my selfishness that ripped my family to shreds, and now I need to do everything I can to keep it from falling apart completely.

The loud crack of thunder charges the surrounding air, signaling the impending downpour Cooper was worried about earlier, but I remain rooted to my place on the bench. Numbness slowly dims my senses as it begins to rain. Water seeps into the fabric of my sweater, causing it to stick to my skin, but I still don’t move. I can’t, not with the demons from my past holding me in place, pulling me down into the deep despair I fought so hard to keep at bay all day.

“Ramona!” My head snaps toward the sound of my name, and I see Cooper. The picnic basket and blanket are hanging haphazardly from his arm, bouncing back and forth as he sprints toward me. I want to move to keep running away from him, but I don’t have the strength to move. I just stand up and wait for him to get closer.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, eyes locked on his feet. “I shouldn’t have run, but I couldn’t be there anymore.”

“Why?” he croaks, his rain-drenched hand reaching toward my face, but I flinch away from him. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head back and forth, a deep sob escaping my throat. “No. No. You are perfect. Perfect in every way I can never be. In a way I don’t deserve.”

“Why don’t you deserve to be happy, Beauty?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not the princess in this story. I’m the wicked witch. I’m not the one who gets the happy ending. You need to get as far away from me as possible before I ruin your life, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Beauty. Not now, not ever,” Cooper growls before smashing his lips against mine.

I can taste the rain on them as he brushes his tongue against my lips. I part them slightly, allowing his tongue to slip between them. He should be running away from me, but he’s pulling me closer. His fingers thread through my hair as we breathe each other in. Bless it. This shit does not happen in real life, at least not to anyone I know. I should stop this, ask him to put me down before we do something stupid, but it feels too good to stop.

Cooper’s hands slide down my back onto my ass, gripping it tightly in his palms before lifting me slightly. I wrap my legs around him, groaning into his mouth as warmth blooms in my chest like the roses in this garden. I can barely feel the bite of the rain as it continues to pelt my skin, giving over to the pleasure of his lips pressed against mine. Our bodies press together, the heat from his seeping into mine as my heart begs for me to pull him closer.

Cooper’s lips are speaking to a part of me I thought was lost forever. His muscular arms support my weight as I grip his shirt tightly in my fist, anchoring myself to him and this moment, giving him everything that I am and will ever be. All the pain, torment, and grief leaches out of my body, and I pour every emotion into this kiss. But not before I send up a silent prayer that when this is over, I’m still whole at the end.