Page 72 of Unraveling with You

That doesn’t mean this isn’t terrifying.

I quiver as I turn to Guiliano. “Why? I’ll tell you why.”

His eyes widen. No one dares to move. Even a few servers freeze in the doorway, awaiting my next words. My eyes bulge just as much as theirs, but a protective rage settles into my chest. If it were little Remington who I was protecting, I’d have no qualms. But Remington helped me realize that whenever someone crushes the cook in me, they’re sinking their claws straight into little Lilibeth - the one who dared to save her own life by joining this industry, even if she’d be a laughingstock. I don’t want her to suffer anymore.

Tears prick my eyes. “I’m sick of how you treat me. Treat each other. I know I don’t say much, and I can be awkward, but do you have to treat me like absolute shit for this kitchen to function? I just want to fuckingcook!”

Gabby’s shoulders droop. “Lily...”

Giuliano continues to gape, but when he opens his mouth, I stand taller.

“This is not how things should be run. When I cook for our community, it’s because I want to nourish their bodies, and hopefully help them experience one moment of delight in this cruel world. And what are your bitter comments accomplishing? You really don’t think it makes our muscles weaker, distracts our minds, and tears at our hearts? And maybe you don’t feel the same, but I see my job as to nurture through food. How can I do my job properly in a hateful environment when all I want to do is share love?” I huff through hot, aching breaths. “Just let me cook in peace. Let me live.”

No one has moved. Not even Gabby seems to know what to say, her arms limp at her sides. Do they all think I’m crazy now?

Snatching a cleaning cloth, I wipe one of the steel tables.

“G-get back to work,” I mutter.

Everyone bursts into action, hustling to their next task without a single word of complaint. I freeze, gazing at the determined focus around me.

They listened.

I want to feel proud for finally speaking up. But as tears cloud my eyes, my forehead warps from the pain in my chest.

Why can’t I convince Dad not to hurt me? What am I doing wrong?

I haven’t visited Mom and Dad since I showed Remington what Dad did to me. Witnessing someone else’s shock over my injuries hit a deep nerve, reminding me that no, this isn’t normal, and I can’t afford Dad seeing his physical force as a reopened door. Remington assured he’d be at my side as a buffer the next time I visit, but I still hate that Mom has no choice. She’s trapped in a prison she didn’t mean to enter, maybe for the rest of her life.

Turning away from the table, I swipe at my gushing eyes with my apron, hating that I’m crying in front of everyone here. But I crash straight into Guiliano’s chest. I gasp, taking a few steps back. “S-sorry.”

I try to circle around him, but Giuliano blocks my way with a hand open in front of me. “Come into the back with me for a moment, please.”

My heart flips. What’s he going to say? I undermined his authority in front of our whole staff. He can’t fire me over this, can he?

Ducking my head, I follow Giuliano's swift steps to the back room. At least the speed we’re walking prevents me from having to be witnessed for too long.

But when the door shuts behind us, Giuliano snatches a tissue and whips around. “Lift your chin.”

Defensive fear tightens my muscles. But as I take the tissue from Giuliano, I find his face startlingly neutral. Turning my side to him, I do my best to quickly clean myself up and stop crying.

But I can’t help it. A well has overflowed in my heart, aching at all the time and joy Mom and I lost to Dad’s will.

Giuliano crosses his arms. “I want to retire.”

I gasp, meeting his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to speak up so you could take my place. They’ll trample you if you don’t keep that chin up, and I don’t want to see a good cook lose their passion. Not many in the industry have the heart behind their work to back up their skill.”

Is he finally acknowledging me? Telling me I’m still his one and only choice for head chef?

I always thought I’d feel a sense of validation if this ever came true, but as I face Giuliano, I grit my jaw. “So you decided to harass me into shape? How well do you think that worked?”

He tenses. To my surprise, he drops his head. “So, what? Are you quitting?”

I sigh. “No. I need this job to keep my family alive. I’m going to keep cooking.”

“Good.”

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