Page 36 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)

Robin

God, it feels good to be back.

It’s been a long time since I felt like myself.

Not the polished, TV version of me. And definitely not the rock-bottom failed-restaurateur version of me.

The real Robin. The one who’s creative and playful and full of surprises.

This is what I love about being a chef, I think as we celebrate our sold-out dinner at One More Round.

Creating something new, something that gets people talking.

Seeing someone’s eyes light up as the food I’ve made rocks their taste buds.

I’ve finally got my cooking groove back.

Maybe Molly’s got something to do with it too.

Watching her enjoy my work was half of tonight’s magic for me.

She’s standing at the bar with Keyana now, looking absolutely stunning in a little black dress that shows off her tattoos.

I can’t believe how lucky I am to be the one going home with her after this.

She’s gorgeous, she’s talented, she’s got a huge heart under all those freckles and scowls, and she’s decided to let me back into it, even if just for the time being, to make things right.

She’s giving me a second chance to prove myself, just like Jesse, just like this whole town that for some reason has welcomed us back with open arms. I love everything about this night.

I love food, I love Eureka, and I love Molly.

Yikes. Okay, I might have taken that a bit too far.

Whatever we’re doing is temporary. Do I love her?

Of course. But more in the way you love your childhood friends, the ones you don’t necessarily see all the time but wish the best for and remember to text once a year on their birthdays. Love love is in the past.

Isn’t it?

I feel a firm clap on my shoulder and look away from Molly’s curves in that dress to find Jesse behind me, handing over a pint of beer.

“Can’t believe we pulled that off,” he says, still glowing. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Rob. Years later, you’re still inspiring me and teaching me. Cheers.”

We tap our glasses together and take our first sips. “Don’t be modest,” I say, wiping the foam from my lips. “You’re the one who owns a killer restaurant, my dude. I feel lucky to be here.”

Jesse throws an arm around my shoulders and shakes me, sending a splash of beer down the front of my black tee.

“We’re a team,” he says. “You’re the Tweedledee to my Tweedledum.

And for one of these dinner-series nights, you’ll be in charge and I’ll be your right-hand man.

Just tell me which month. It’ll be even better than this.

Right, Molly?” he asks, turning to her as she approaches us with Clint and Key.

“Right what?” Molly asks.

Jesse takes his arm from my shoulders and says, “I was telling Robin that once things wrap up at the inn, she should take the lead on a dinner-series night.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Molly says. I slide an arm around her waist and kiss her temple in greeting, still riding the high of our success and forgetting for a moment that we’re not at the inn and maritime rules don’t apply.

Luckily, she doesn’t flinch. “But it will be hard to top what you did tonight, Jesse. It was a work of art,” Molly adds.

Jesse bows with a flourish. “It was an honor serving you, my lady.”

“You’re a magician,” Clint says, clinking his martini glass against Jesse’s beer. “We really need to do a collab with your restaurant and my bar.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” Key groans.

Molly pats her on the shoulder. “You couldn’t cancel that MoMA interview. And there will be more.”

“I won’t miss it next time!” Key says. “Everyone’s saying it changed their lives.”

“Oh, I forgot.” I reach into my backpack under the table. “I brought you some extra cakes, Key. And not to rush you, but they probably shouldn’t be left out too long or they’ll lose some of their magic.”

Key grabs the box from my hands eagerly. “I’m starving. I’ll eat them now.”

“Okay, but they’re probably more impressive when you can hear them,” I say above the bumping bass of the bar’s music, thinking of the audible fizzing and popping baked into the third cake. Key’s head tilts in confusion.

“Go out on the patio,” Molly suggests. “Robin, you go with her to watch her reactions.”

“What reactions?” Key says, one eyebrow arched.

“It’ll be fun,” Molly says, then kisses me for a surprisingly long moment, considering all our friends are watching.

Are we cool with that now? Does all of Eureka fall under inn rules?

When we part, I catch Jesse, Caro, and Clint glancing at one another like they’ve just settled a bet.

Key, meanwhile, is squinting at me with obvious skepticism.

I gesture toward the patio door and ask Key, “Shall we?”

Molly was right. Watching Key eat the cakes is a treat for my ego. She goes on about how cute and perfectly round they are, and about the delicate flavor of the first petit four—before the spice hits.

“Fire mouth! What the hell!” she exclaims once my mystery ingredient does its job, fanning her mouth with her hand. “I love spicy things, but whoa. It’s, like, vibrating.”

“Sichuan pepper oil,” I explain. “Don’t worry, it fades fast. And the antidote to the first cake lies in the second.”

Key pops the second cake into her mouth. After a few chews, her eyes go wide and her lips purse. “Brrr! How does it make my mouth all cold like that?”

“There’s a layer of coconut-mint cream in the middle that was frozen, but it’s been out of the freezer for a minute,” I say. “The natural menthol in the mint reacts with the Sichuan pepper from the first one.”

“Fucking wild,” Keyana says. “What does the third one do? Turn me into a billionaire?”

“When I figure out how to make a cake do that, I’ll let you know.”

Key’s even more delighted by the third cake than the first two. “It’s popping! Can you hear it?” She leans in close to my ear.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Are there Pop Rocks in it?” she asks.

“I had to make it harder for myself than that,” I say, leaning against the natural stone wall at the back of the patio space. “I made little sugary bits with baking soda and citric acid to create the chemical reaction on your tongue.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize you’d become a kitchen chemist.”

“I’ve picked up a few new skills,” I say, just shy of bragging.

Key purses her lips and looks me up and down. “Mm-hmm. Based on the way Molly kissed you in there, I’m guessing you’ve got some other new skills you’ve been showing off too.”

I purse my lips, silently waiting for her to continue. It’s clear she’s got a bone to pick with me, and I’ve got a feeling I know which one.

“This thing with Molly,” Key says, all business. “What are your intentions?”

I shrug. “I don’t have ‘intentions.’ I’m following her lead here.”

“Uh-huh,” Key says, clearly unconvinced. “Tell me how you see it, then.”

I scratch the back of my neck, looking toward the door for someone to save me from this interrogation. “A little nostalgic fun,” I reply carefully. “Molly says it’s our chance to put the past behind us and end things on a good note.”

“And how exactly does it end?”

At least I’ve got the right answer to this one. “We agreed to finish redecorating the inn, sell it to Clint, and finalize our divorce,” I say. “Then say our goodbyes and move on with our lives. A clean break.”

“Right.” Key gives me another searching look. “You’ll go back to being a hotshot celebrity chef, open some fancy conceptual restaurant, and have a whirlwind affair with one of your adoring fans. And what happens to Molly?”

“She…drives around doing stained glass?”

“And continues pining over you and nursing a broken heart for the rest of her life?”

“I, uh, no?” I fumble.

Keyana shifts her weight and crosses her arms before saying, “Molly thinks of herself as this independent, thick-skinned person who doesn’t need anyone.

Right? She tries to give off this untouchable ‘I don’t need you’ aura.

But I know, and I’m pretty sure you know, that she’s got big emotions, even if she tries to wall them off.

All she wants is to take care of the people she loves and feel loved by them in return. ”

I tuck my hands in my pockets, the stone wall against my back keeping me steady as I wait for Key to make whatever point she’s working her way toward.

It’s bizarre having her explain Molly to me.

Key has obviously seen a different side of Molly than I have these past seven years.

Even though all three of us used to be close, I get why Key chose Molly’s side in the breakup.

I know leaving Eureka made me the bad guy.

But does she really think she knows Molly that much better than I do now?

Is it that hard for her to imagine there are parts of Molly I see that she doesn’t?

“But honestly, it’s no wonder she tries not to get attached to anyone,” Key continues. “Every person in Molly’s life she’s ever cared about has left her. Maybe not by choice. But her parents. Her childhood friends after she came out. Her grandmother. You.”

My stomach sinks, knowing she’s right. I was too caught up in my big dreams for Portland to realize it at the time, but the guilt sank in later when I thought about why Molly took my leaving so hard.

Why, when I asked her to come with me, to abandon the town that was the only home she had left, to move across the country when she’d never even been on an airplane before, she refused and then accused me of abandoning her.

Because I was just one in a long line of people who failed Molly.

“But you never left her,” I say to Key, wanting a happier ending for Molly, even if she is my ex. “You’re her best friend.”

“She’s mine too, and I try to be there for her,” Key says heavily.

“But I can’t always, especially when our work sends us in different directions.

There have certainly been periods when we grew apart and had to nurse our friendship back to health.

I basically fell off the map when my dad was sick.

Still, she was there for me at the funeral and picked me up off the floor. I owe it to her to look out for her.”

I soften, realizing that’s why Key’s being so hard on me now. I can take the heat. I deserve it.

Key looks through the window into the bar, watching Molly straighten the collar of Caro’s shirt.

“You leaving back then, it broke something in her. Her faith that she could truly rely on someone. She got way more independent for it, became a better artist, learned to set boundaries. She glued herself back together, but she lost a lot of faith in people along the way, and I don’t know if that’s something that will ever heal. ”

I follow Key’s gaze to where Clint is handing out a fresh round of drinks to our group.

Molly hugs him, and he lifts her up, spinning her in a circle before putting her back down.

“She doesn’t seem very broken to me,” I say, hoping it’s true.

Even at my angriest and most frustrated, I never wanted bad things for Molly.

“Since you two entered this ‘agreement,’ she’s started acting like the old Molly.

She laughs more. Gets out of the studio.

Lets herself care about things other than her art.

” When Key looks from the window to me, I see fear in her eyes.

“But what if, when it ends, she’s worse off?

What if it confirms what she’s seen her whole life, that no one ever stays? ”

The thought of causing Molly more pain than I already have is excruciating.

Being together again has reminded me how deeply I care about her, even if we can never be to each other what we were before.

And isn’t that why we agreed to do this in the first place?

To feel good, to celebrate what we used to have before we leave it behind?

Aren’t we supposed to be healing, not hurting?

“This was just as much her idea as mine,” I say, defensive to mask my fear.

Key sighs. “I like you, Robin. But if you and Molly are going to hook up again, it can’t be a flippant, short-term thing that leaves her crushed. You may be able to throw yourself into your career and move on, but Molly’s heart will hold on to that pain forever.”

My instinct is to fight, to say I know Molly best and she’s obviously enjoying herself.

But everything Key says rings true. I’ve been living a dream for the past week.

Is the dream now worth a potential nightmare for Molly when it’s over?

Have I been the bad guy all along, when I was always so completely convinced I was doing the right thing?

“What should I do?” I ask, my cracking voice betraying me.

“You have to make a choice,” Key says firmly, her eyes locked on mine to make sure I hear every word.

“Either you’re getting back together or you’re not.

You’re staying or you’re leaving. This gray area you’ve been living in is unsustainable.

Molly needs clarity. You don’t have to make a lifetime commitment, but you can’t be all lovey-dovey for a few weeks and then disappear.

If you’re doing this with her, do it for real or draw firm boundaries around your friendship.

She can handle the truth. Just…be gentle with her, all right?

Molly is special. A brilliant artist and one of the most loyal, caring people I’ve ever met.

She may look tough, but she’s softer than she seems. Softer than she’ll ever admit. ”

Key’s words are still crashing over me when we’re interrupted by a burst of noise.

Molly walks through the glass door onto the patio and comes toward me with a drink, followed by the rest of our rowdy group.

Keyana gives me one last look before she slips back into the bar.

But as the night goes on, her voice never leaves the back of my brain. She’s softer than she seems.