Page 2 of All We Need

I divert my attention, shuffling around the bottles of oil and sauces lined up on the pass.

“Booth.Yougot permission, right?”Patrick’stone grows serious.He’sgot that dad voice nailed down.Toobad my five-year-old niece doesn’t bend to it.

“Hmm?Whatwas that?”Righton cue, my sous chef,Simon, slides two lobster rolls in front of me. “Actually, no time for chitchat, sorry, bro.”

“You stubborn prick.”He’slaughing now.HeknowsI’mnot kneeling for some faceless dude whose shirt is probably too tight and wouldn’t know how to run a restaurant even if it slapped him in the face.Thisisourrestaurant.

OurPlace.

“Better hope this doesn’t come back to bite you.I’mnot holding your hand while you whine about one of their emails again.”

Chucking a rogue fry at his head,Ishrug. “Onlywhen they pull their head out of their ass and show their face around here willItake them seriously.Fornow, they sign my paychecks.That’sall.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.Getfinished in here andI’llbuy you a drink.”

An ice-coldIPAsounds heavenly.Mylips smack together asIimagine the hoppy bubbles on my tongue.ThenIremember the to-do list the length of my arm and throw my head back, sighing. “Can’t.Istill need to prep for tomorrow and thenI’mup at six to set up.Raincheck?”

“Next week.”Hejerks his chin at me. “Seeyou later.”

After he leaves and we send out the final order of the night, the team andIwhizz through the clean down until the kitchen sparkles from top to bottom.OnceIgive everyone permission to head home,Idrag myself to the back office, collapse into the rolling chair behind the desk and stretch out my aching joints.Theycrack so loudly,I’msurprisedIdon’t glow in the dark.

Rubbing my eyes roughly,Imentally go through everythingIneed to do before powering up the computer.Whilebrowsing for the stock sheet, the cursor pauses over a folderIhaven’t looked at in months.

Menu ideas.

SinceIwas promoted to head chef afterGloria, the restaurant’s longest-serving member of staff, retired,I’vewanted to spice up the menu a little.Thereare no complaints about what we currently offer, and all the dishes are a staple in most households inMaine, but it’s out of date.Theidea of an exciting, modern menu, whereIcould put my own flare on it, has always been a dream.Itried for months, only to be shot down byGeorgeand my mom, who took over when my dad passed.

It’s not what the people of this town are looking for.

This might be a little unconventional.

I understood what they were saying, truly, but it still stung.

I can’t see myself doing anything else, but sometimesIwonder if this is the futureDadsaw for the restaurant.Forme.

The role wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter.Likeanyone else,Istarted as a dishwasher and worked my way up the ranks.Notwanting to go too far for school,Ienrolled in the local community college for culinary classes.

That once-burning passion has fizzled out over the years.Especiallysince the new owner took over.

What if…

No,Iscold myself, cutting off that internal voice that creeps into my head occasionally.

This is whereI’msupposed to be.

WhatDadwould have wanted.

Spicesand sugary goodness assault my nose, mixing with the fresh, salt air blowing in from the bay.Itdoesn’t matter if this is the first or hundredth time, the smell of fall is nostalgic and comforting.

With the restaurant’s table setup for the fair,Dex,Patrick’sbest friend, andIare helping my brother,Graham.Forsuch a quiet, reserved guy, he’s really going all out for his “fake girlfriend.”QuinnownsJustBrewIt, the small bakery in town, and because my brother is a complete simp for her, he’s surprising her with her own table after he found out she couldn’t afford it.Thanksto my genius idea,GrahamandQuinnhave entered into a faux dating arrangement so he doesn’t have to attend his ex’s—who is the worst—wedding alone.Thebest part: he’s fucking crazy aboutQuinn.

The town hosts four main fairs every year: fall, winter, spring, and summer.Theyall started off as small gatherings, put on for the local kids and businesses.Now, huge crowds from all over flock toSuttonBay.It’sa great way to give back to the community and honestly, a nice change of scenery.I’llbe manning the restaurant’s stall withSimon,Jo, andPatmost of the day.

Currently,Grahamstands in front ofQuinn’stable, eyes blown wide in panic behind his glasses. “She’sgoing to hate it.”Hegroans and shrinks away.

“Nope!”Ishout and drag him back. “Quitdoubting yourself.Thisis nice—really nice.IfIwere a chick and a guy did this for me,I’dbe buying a one-way ticket to pound??—”

“BoothEliasSadler!”I’drecognize that strict tone anywhere.She’susually a pint-sized sweetheart, but as we turn to find my mom strolling our way, withPatrickand my niece,Lottie, in tow,Icower at her stern glower. “Iraised you better than that.”

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