Page 128 of Cooking Up My Comeback

“Harassment?” Chad laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m simply a concerned citizen expressing legitimate business concerns?—”

“You’re a bitter ex-husband trying to sabotage your ex-wife’s success,” I say quietly, but my voice carries. “And everyone in this room knows it.”

A few people nod in agreement. Jack’s mom actually gives me a thumbs up from her corner table, which is both encouraging and slightly terrifying.

The words land like a slap. Chad’s face goes red, his facade of civility cracking.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snarls. “This restaurant will fail within six months. The whole town knows Amber can’t handle running a real business. She’s in over her head, and when this place crashes and burns, don’t come crying to me.”

“Daddy?” Crew’s voice cuts through the tension as he appears beside us, confusion written all over his face. “Why are you being mean to Mom?”

The entire confrontation stops. Chad’s face goes pale as he realizes his son heard everything.

“Chad.” Amber’s voice cuts through his rant like a blade, and I can see she’s spotted Crew too. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get out of my restaurant. Now.”

“You can’t kick me out. I’m a paying customer?—”

“You’re trespassing,” I say firmly. “The owner has asked you to leave. You need to go.”

For a moment, it seems as though Chad might actually try to escalate this into a physical confrontation. His hands shake with rage, his face purple with humiliation. But then he glances around at the crowd of people watching, phones potentially recording, witnesses everywhere.

And then he sees Crew.

For a second, something flickers across Chad’s face—maybe shame, maybe regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

He throws his napkin down and stands up abruptly. “Come on, Kayla. We’re leaving.”

“Actually,” his date says quietly, not moving from her seat, “I think I’ll stay for dessert. The menu looks amazing.”

The final humiliation. Even his own date is choosingAmber’s restaurant over him. I’d almost feel sorry for Chad if he weren’t such a complete waste of oxygen.

Chad stares at her for a moment, his gaze darting once more to where Crew stands pressed against my side. Then he storms toward the exit without another word. The door slams behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.

Crew lets out a shaky breath. “He didn’t even say goodbye,” he whispers.

For a moment, the entire restaurant is silent.

Then someone starts clapping.

It’s Mrs. Sanders, Jack’s mom, from the knitting club, slowly applauding from her corner table. Then Jack joins in, then Hazel, then my mom from her corner table. Within seconds, the entire dining room erupts in applause and cheers.

“About time someone told him off!” someone calls out.

“Good riddance!” another voice shouts.

“Best dinner theater in town!” a third adds.

“Better than Netflix!” someone from the back calls out, which gets a laugh from the entire room.

Amber stands in the middle of it all, tears streaming down her face, but she’s smiling. Really, genuinely smiling for the first time tonight.

Then she spots Crew, and her expression shifts to concern. She crosses to us quickly, kneeling down to his level.

“Hey, buddy,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”