Page 17 of Cooking Up My Comeback

The simple honesty in his voice makes my chest flutter with something that has nothing to do with business partnerships and everything to do with the way he saidwelike it’s a given.

“I need time to think about it,” I say finally.

He nods, standing abruptly like he can’t get out of here fast enough. “Fine.”

He starts toward the door, then stops. Turns back. For a moment, his expression softens just enough for me to catch a glimpse of something vulnerable underneath all that gruff exterior.

“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “this town’s lucky to have you.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me with the lingering scent of his cologne and the terrifying possibility that maybe I could be brave enough to want more than just surviving.

Michelle reappears with suspiciously good timing.

“So,” she says, settling back into her chair with the expression of someone who definitely heard every word. “That looked intense.”

“He offered me a restaurant partnership.”

“And you said...?”

“That I need time to think.”

“Smart. Though for the record, I think you’d be crazy not to say yes.” She pauses, grinning. “Also, for the record, that man is absolutely smitten with you.”

“Smitten?” I laugh. “Did you see the same conversation I just had? He acted like offering me a partnership was equivalent to having a root canal.”

“Exactly. Brett Walker doesn’t ask for help. Ever.” Michelle shakes her head. “Honey, that man is fighting feelings he doesn’t want to have. And you, with all your sunshine and determination to see the good in everything, are exactly the kind of complication he’s been running from his whole life.”

I stare out the window where Brett’s truck is pulling away from the curb with more speed than strictly necessary.

“So what you’re saying is, we’re completely wrong for each other.”

“I’m saying you’re perfect for each other. He needs someone to remind him that life doesn’t have to be endured. It can be enjoyed. And you...” She tilts her head, studying me. “You need someone who sees yourstrength, not just your sunshine. Someone who doesn’t try to dim your light but isn’t blinded by it either.”

My chest does that flutter thing again, because she might be right. Brett doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile or naive. He doesn’t try to manage my emotions or tell me I’m too much. He just... accepts my brightness while keeping his own shadows.

Maybe opposites don’t just attract. Maybe they complete each other.

“What about working here?” I ask.

“The position will be here if you need it,” Michelle says. “But I have a feeling you won’t.”

Isit there after Michelle returns to work, watching the world pass by outside, feeling like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff with no idea what’s below.

But maybe that’s what faith looks like. Maybe it’s jumping anyway, trusting that somehow you’ll figure out how to fly on the way down.

I think about Grandma’s recipe cards, still in their tin on my kitchen counter. All those stories and traditions and absolute certainty that food made with love could change everything.

What would you do, Grandma?I wonder.Would you take the leap? Would you bet everything on a dream anda man with storm-gray eyes who knows how to fix more than broken buildings?

I can almost hear her voice, warm and sure:Sweetheart, the only way to fail is never to try.

Maybe it’s time I stopped being afraid of wanting more and started trusting myself instead of my ex-husband’s voice telling me my dreams are too big.

Time I helped a grumpy contractor learn that some complications are worth fighting for.

After all, the best things in life usually come from the most unlikely partnerships. Sunshine and storms. Dreams and pragmatism. Hope and caution.

Sometimes what looks like a mismatch is actually a perfect fit.