Page 26 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

Mia nods enthusiastically. "Last night. I asked if we could stay longer, and she said no because of school and work, but that we could discuss visiting again."

"That's something." More than I expected after the way she fled yesterday.

"So will you?" Mia persists. "Visit us, I mean. You could see our apartment and Central Park and I could show you my school."

I focus on crimping the edges of a turnover, buying time. "New York is pretty far from here, kid. And I have the lodge kitchen to run."

"But you get days off, right?" Her logic is relentless. "Mom says everyone needs occasional work-life balance."

I nearly laugh at the irony of Jules Sinclair preaching the concept. "She said that, huh?"

"Well, she says it, but Zoe says she doesn't practice it." Mia leans in conspiratorially. "That means she doesn't actually do it herself."

"I figured." I hand her a pastry brush for the egg wash. "Listen, Mia, New York is complicated for me right now. But I'm really glad we got to be kitchen buddies this week."

Her face falls slightly. "You don't want to visit us?"

"It's not that," I say carefully. "Sometimes adults have complicated situations."

"Because you kissed my mom?"

I nearly drop the baking sheet. "What?"

Mia sighs with the exaggerated patience of the very young explaining something to the very dense. "I saw you yesterday. On the bridge. When Mom was coming back from being lost."

I set down the pastry tools, giving her my full attention. "Mia, what exactly did you see?"

"You and Mom were holding hands on the bridge, and then you kissed her." She states this like she's reporting the weather. "And then Mom got that scared look she gets when unexpected things happen, and she walked away really fast."

"You're very observant," I manage, mind racing. "Does your mom know you saw?"

She shakes her head. "I was with Evie, looking for Mom because she was late. We were by the big tree at the edge of the property." She tilts her head. "Are you and Mom going to be boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

The question would be funny if it weren't so painfully complicated. "I don't think so, kiddo."

"Why not? Don't you like her?"

"I like her very much," I admit. "But your mom has her life in New York, and mine is here."

"People can move," she points out with impeccable seven-year-old logic. "Or visit a lot."

"It's not that simple."

"Grown-ups always say that," she grumbles, focusing intently on brushing egg wash over her turnovers. "But sometimes I think they make things complicated when they don't have to be."

Out of the mouths of babes.

We finish the turnovers in companionable silence, sliding them into the oven just as the dining room doors open. I look up automatically, and there she is—Jules, standing frozen inthe doorway, clearly having intended to check on Mia but not expecting to find me here as well.

Our eyes meet across the room, and for a brief moment, I see a flash of something unguarded in her expression. Then the professional mask slides back into place.

"Mia, it's time for the afternoon activities," she calls, not crossing the threshold into the kitchen.

"But our turnovers aren't done baking!" Mia protests.

"Georgia will make sure they come out perfectly," I assure her, gently untying her apron. "You can check on them later."

Mia gives me a quick hug before skipping over to her mother. "Mom, I asked Declan if he could visit us in New York!"

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