Page 62 of Cooking Up My Comeback

“What exactly are you suggesting?” I ask, and mytone has gone from level to something considerably less friendly.

Chad turns that practiced smile on me. “I appreciate your... investment in this project. I’m just wondering what the contingency plan is if this partnership becomes complicated. Workplace relationships can be challenging when they reach their natural conclusion. Particularly when significant financial investments are at stake.”

He’s clearly proud of that sentence. Probably practiced it on the drive over.

“We’re business partners,” Amber says firmly. “Nothing more.”

Chad’s eyes light up like he’s scored a point. “Exactly. Which is why I wanted to discuss some alternative financing options. Traditional lending, investor partnerships. I have professional connections that might be beneficial.”

Professional connections. Right. Like his supervisor at the insurance office is going to bankroll a restaurant.

“That’s generous,” I say, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “But we’ve got the financing handled.”

“I’m sure you do. Just want to make sure all options are being considered.” Chad checks his watch with the obvious gesture of someone who wants you to notice he’s important enough to have a schedule. “I should get back to my other commitments. Just wanted to check on the operational progress.”

After he leaves, the space feels different. Like his presence somehow made everything smaller and less legitimate.

Amber sinks onto one of the construction stools, staring at the sample place settings she’d been arranging before he arrived.

“Well,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, “that was fun.”

That gets a small smile. “He’s always done that. Uses big words when he’s trying to sound important. Usually gets them slightly wrong.”

“‘Market penetration’? ‘Operational progress’? Who talks like that?”

“Someone who thinks if he uses enough corporate buzzwords, people will forget he processes insurance claims for a living.”

I sit down across from her, studying her face. “He got to you.”

“He always does. Even when I know better.” She sighs. “But he’s not wrong about everything. The restaurant business is risky. Partnerships can get complicated.”

“Yeah, but he’s not concerned about legitimate business risks. He’s concerned that you’re building something without him.”

She looks at me carefully. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we should ignore the valid points buried under all that corporate speak.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that mixing business with personal feelings is asking for trouble.”

And there it is. The wall going back up, the careful distance she puts between us whenever someone reminds her that wanting something could mean losing everything.

“Amber—”

“No, he’s right about that part. We need to keep things professional. Focus on the restaurant, not on... us.”

The words hit like a slap, probably because they’re exactly what I would have said a month ago. Before I started caring more about this partnership than any business venture I’ve ever been involved in.

“Right,” I say, because what else is there to say? “Professional.”

“It’s better this way. Safer.”

“For who?”

“For everyone. For the business, for the kids, for us.”

I want to argue with her. Want to point out that the only reason Chad’s opinion matters to her is because she’s still letting him define what’s safe and what’s risky. But I can see the walls going up in real time, and I know better than to push when she’s in protective mode.

“Fine.” I stand. “Professional it is.”