Page 124 of Until August

“There’s no such thing as perfection, remember?”

But I’d bust my ass to get it as close to perfect as it could get. If Sage moved to Hawaii, this job was the only thing I’d have left. “One good review doesn’t give you a free pass to slack off, Nic.”

“Are you calling me a slacker?”

“No.” I shrugged. “But a couple of your dishes were a bit sloppy tonight. You’ll have to hone your presentation skills and pay more attention to detail. We’ll work on that.”

Her jaw dropped. “You asshole.” Anger blazed from her big browns. Good. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“The asshole you hired to turn your kitchen around, remember?”

She had every right to fire me on the spot just for insubordination. After all, she was my boss. She stabbed her finger at my chest. “You need me more than I need you. Just remember who signs your damn paycheck.”

Then she turned on her heel and strode away.

Well, damn. That put me in my place.

No passive-aggressive bullshit for Nicola. I always knew she was a fighter. It was part of the appeal, but I was on a mission to destroy good things.

When she exited the service entrance, I pivoted and returned to the kitchen, where I tyrannized the crew by pointing out the areas where they needed improvement.

Let’s just say I didn’t sugarcoat.

I pointed out every flaw and imperfection, no matter how slight or inconsequential.

Did it make me feel better? Absolutely fucking not.

But I did it anyway.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

Nicola

My motheralways told me that you never really knew someone until you saw how they dealt with adversity. It was true. Tonight I’d learned that August and I were more alike than we realized.

When we felt like we were losing control of something in our lives, our MO was to lash out at everyone around us.

When I couldn’t get pregnant, I lashed out at Cruz and said things I didn’t mean. I’m sure I did it with other things, too, but that was the one that always stood out for me. Cruz wasn’t like that. He always remained calm and steady. He didn’t have a bad temper, and sometimes I used to get mad at him because of it.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re mad at me because I don’t get angry enough?” he’d asked once.

It had sounded stupid when he voiced it, and we’d laughed about it later, but in the heat of an argument, he always chose to walk away and let me cool down instead of staying to fight. “It feels like you don’t care,” I told him.

“I just don’t see what purpose it would serve to yell and scream and throw things. What would that really accomplish?”

Nothing. It had never accomplished anything. But once I released my anger, I was always quick to apologize and move on.

I wasn’t a grudge-holder. I just needed to vent and usually took it out on the wrong person. The one closest to me. Luckily, Cruz understood that about me. In the same way, I understood that he needed time alone to process his emotions and that we would resume the conversation when he was ready.

Cruz was a peacemaker. He hated confrontation, whereas I never backed down from a fight. Different styles, but we found a way to make it work.

So, logically I understood why August behaved the way he did. He was acting out of fear. He was trying to control the only thing he still felt he had some control over. My kitchen.

I knew I wouldn’t be getting an apology from him this time. The stakes were too high, and the threat of losing his son was too real for him to loosen his tight grip. If he did, he would feel like he’d lost everything.

So I wouldn’t fire him. I wasn’t a monster. It would bring me no joy to strip him of everything he’d worked so hard for.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be angry with him for how he’d treated me or for the words he hurled in anger.