Page 96 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

The twins let out a soft coo in their sleep, reminding me I had to keep them safe. I had to do the same for Dom. He was in danger of losing his job, his relationship with Leo was precarious, and I was the catalyst. A fresh wave of determination flared.

Yes, I’m doing this.

I typed a quick message to a couple of restaurants. I described my experience, gave a brief rundown of my culinary style, omitted the personal drama, and hit send, each email feeling like a step toward a cliff’s edge.

Just as I started to open a tab to see if any of my preferred apartments were open, an unexpected ping popped into my inbox. One of the places, a mid-range yet highly rated spot called The Steel Kitchen, had replied almost instantly.

The manager wrote:You’ve got perfect timing. Our head chef just quit on us midweek after a tantrum from a rude customer. If you can start ASAP, we’d love to chat. The sooner the better.

A hollow laugh escaped me.Who quits over a bratty customer?Then again, kitchen meltdowns were more common than most folks realized. My heart raced as I typed back, expressing my eagerness to discuss details.If they’re desperate, they’ll hire me fast.That suited my plan. Less time for second-guessing.

I arranged a call, stepping away from the sleeping babies to speak quietly in the kitchen. The manager’s voice was frenetic but friendly, telling me all about the fiasco and how they needed someone unafraid of high-pressure nonsense. I half-smiled. “I’ve worked in Manhattan my whole career. High-pressure nonsense is a daily occurrence.”

I can handle anything, as long as I keep Dom from losing everything.

We agreed to terms quickly, almost too easily. The job came with a significant rate increase and a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment above the restaurant that cost a dollar per month, something about how city regulations wouldn’t allow them to let me live there for free. They cautioned the apartment was small, but it turned out to be five hundred square feet bigger than my current place. They wanted me there in a week, no time wasted. I said yes, ignoring the knots in my stomach.

With a new job and apartment settled, I stared at my phone, heart hammering. That had been almost too easy, and I didn’t expect anything else to go as smoothly.

Carrie was my next hurdle. She might be mad or not care, considering her new favorite chef wasn’t leaving, but I still owed her a conversation about my resignation.

That’s if she doesn’t fire me first.

I sent a quick text requesting a meeting. She immediately replied, telling me to come by at the end of service. Perfect. I glanced at the twins again, tears threatening. I vowed to figure everything out as I stroked their wispy hair.

Work that evening felt surreal, as if I was moving underwater. Each chop of the knife and every swirl of sauce hammered home that this was the last time I’d do this as assistant head chef at Suivante. Winner hovered around, offering suggestions that made me want to fling a spatula at her. I bit my tongue, focusing on the finality of what came next.

The truth was, her sniping would have zero impact on my future now. Once that realization struck, I just smiled and shrugged at her, ignoring her commentary. She tried a little harder to get a rise out of me by “accidentally” swapping grated ginger for grated garlic in my mise, but I caught it in time. “Does your sense of smell work, Winner?”

“Yeah, it was just an accident. Kitchen shit, you know?” She tried to play it off.

“Maybe you should get your eyes checked,” I said with as much concern as I could muster. “They’re pretty different looking. The fibers in the ginger?—”

“I said it was an accident.”

“Right, well, I’m telling you how to avoid it in the future. You never know when the next accident could happen to you, if you just keep making them instead of working to avoid them.” I smiled as she stared daggers into me. “No sense in letting all my expertise go to waste just to save your ego, you know.”

Her eyes lidded into slits, anger pulsing off of her. “I know what grated ginger and garlic look like.”

“Which means that accident wasn’t an accident. Better luck next time, Loser.”

She stomped off for the freezer without another word. Now that I wasn’t worried about her bullshit or playing politics, it was easier to handle her. Too bad I hadn’t gotten to that point before now.

After service, I knocked on Carrie’s office door. She stood behind her desk, flipping through receipts with a frown. “Ella,” she said, not looking up. “Come in, shut the door.”

I obeyed, heart thudding. For a moment, she kept her eyes on the papers, then set them aside with a sigh, turning to me. “So what’s going on? Did Winner do something else to upset you? I keep telling you, she’s someone you should mentor, not someone to worry about.”

I swallowed, stepping forward. “I’m leaving. I’ve accepted another position in Chicago.”

She blinked, stunned. Then, a harsh laugh escaped her. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve got newborns. You’re just settling back in here?—”

“Exactly,” I cut in, voice tight. “And it’s not working. I need a fresh start.”

Carrie’s gaze sharpened. “Is this because of Dom? Because Seth might make waves? Come on, we can handle it?—”

I shook my head firmly. “It’s more than that. Look at me, Carrie. I’m juggling too much, and my kids deserve better. This job is not my safe haven anymore. You and Winner…you have a good thing going. I’m out.”

“I can’t believe you’re bailing on me. After all the accommodations, after I covered for you, let you take extra leave?—”

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