Page 57 of The Chef's Kiss
He shrugged. “I saw you make one for yourself yesterday and knew it was something you could stomach if the chowder didn’t sit right.”
“And if I didn’t eat the grilled cheese?”
Red tinged his cheeks, and he looked away. “I made a third option.”
I wasn’t sure why tears suddenly came to my eyes. They caught in my lashes. “Hudson …”
“It’s not a big deal, Jorgie. You don’t eat enough, and I won’t have anyone starving in my restaurant.”
He said it so matter of factly, but I knew there was more to it. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a good guy?” It was a lesson that had come slowly, but now I couldn’t believe I ever thought anything else.
“No.”
“Well, I am. Telling you, that is.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, so I took mercy on him and sat. When I took a bite of the grilled cheese, I knew.
Hudson Silverman was a man I could fall for.
In another life, where I wasn’t the pregnant employee he took pity on.
He sat across from me with the bowl of chowder but didn’t take a bite. A slow smile came to his face. “We’re close, aren’t we?”
The excitement in his eyes was something I’d felt waking up every morning this week. Almost everything was set for the soft opening. “I can’t believe we did it.”
“Almost.” That single dimple appeared as he smiled around a spoonful of chowder.
After a brief silence, I spoke again. “So, Chef Hudson Silverman, did they teach you the art of grilled cheese in culinary school?”
“No.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “My dad … Back before my parents got their cooking show, before the world demanded more of them than their son, Dad used our kitchen to experiment. He made the most elaborate dishes, and I wouldn’t touch a single one.”
“I’ll bet that made him mad.”
“You wouldn’t believe. The only thing he’d make me that I’d eat was grilled cheese. Then, when he started getting busier, he taught me to make it for myself because he didn’t have time.”
“How old were you?”
“Maybe seven or eight. If a nanny was around, they’d fix me something. But when my parents were in town, the nanny was gone by dinnertime.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
He shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him, but I could see it did. “My parents were hard on me, but they’re probably the reason I got as far as I did. They drove me into this business, into my success.”
No, that wasn’t right. “No one else drives your success, Hudson. It only belongs to you.”
He looked away for a moment. “In New York, my name was golden before I ever took on the role of executive chef. Because of them. But then, I earned a reputation for myself, one that was entirely mine based on my skill. And—”
I reached across the table, not quite able to do more than brush a finger against his hand. “You’ll get it back.”
He shook himself, as if breaking the surface of a wave. “Or I’ll build a new one. Here.”
I realized how much I wanted that. For him to stay, to fall in love with the town I had a love-hate relationship with. He met my gaze, for once not tearing his away.
I realized then I was no different from him. I may have grown up here, but I returned an entirely different person, a stranger. It wasn’t just me anymore, and I’d have to build something here too.
My phone ringing snapped me out of the moment.
“I have to … get back to work.” Hudson stood abruptly, took his still-full bowl of chowder, and booked it to the kitchen.
