Page 27 of Don't Remind Me
I hadn’t been sure if she’d stay like I suggested, and even when her friend showed and they’d settled into a two-top in the corner of the booth that ran along the far wall, I figured they might just get one drink and leave. But they were finishing their second round now, the appetizer I’d sent out devoured, and showed no signs of stopping.
I leaned outside the kitchen doorway, watching Dani’s head fall back with laughter, her face glowing in the soft light of the dining room. The lightness in her expression eased the knot that had been pulling in my chest since she’d come in yesterday shaking. The fact that she’d found this level of peace in my restaurant gave me a smug satisfaction I probably didn’t deserve but I’d take anyway.
This was the power of restaurants.
I’d learned it all the way back in my very first job as a dishwasher. It wasn’t just the food or expensive wine, and it wasn’t the fancy silverware or formal service. It was the atmosphere that was created when all of it came together perfectly.
It was the murmur of people and the backdrop of music against the sizzle of food as it came out of the kitchen and passed by your table on the way to another customer. It was the aroma of garlic in good olive oil and the clinking of wineglasses in celebration. It was the perfect symphony of the front and back of house working together, timing the courses just right so you were always ready for more but never left wanting.
It was art, and it was music, and it was imagination, and I wanted everyone to be able to experience it the way I did. Especially that woman across the room, who spent so much time in her own head that I wondered how often she got stuck there.
Neela approached the computer behind the bar, and I gave Dani’s table a nod. “They order any food?”
“Putting it in now,” she said, then gave a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a table be so excited about striped bass.”
I bit back my grin. I’d never been so excited to make it.
“They needto make finding a therapist easier,” Dani said. “It’s as bad as dating.”
Robin shook her head, the two of them sprawled on one of the velvet couches in the middle of the dining room. “No way. Finding a therapist is notablyworsethan dating.”
“Why’s that?” Zach asked.
It was nearly eleven o’clock. We’d closed an hour ago, and some of the crew had decided to stick around for a shift drink. Neela had invited Dani and Robin to stay, which was going well for her if the gradually shrinking space on the couch between her and Robin was any indication.
Dani sat on Robin’s other side, directly across from where I was on the opposite couch. Her body lounged easily against the cushioned armrest, her feet tucked under her, shoes forgotten on the floor. She’d taken her hair out of the low bun it’d been in earlier, her fingers mindlessly combing through the long strands.
“Because,” Robin said with a sly grin, “at least with dating, there’s the possibility of sex. All I get from my therapist is emotional exhaustion and, if I’m really lucky, a sinus infection.”
The room chuckled, but I tilted my head in disagreement. “I don’t know. I’d take my relationship with my therapist over anything I had with my exes.”
Luis sucked air between his teeth as he untied the bandanna from his head and dropped it to the floor beside where he reclined against the couch. His thick dark hair fell across his forehead in waves. “That bad, Chef?”
I rocked my head from side to side. “Let’s just say I’m no longer interested in anything that’s not real.”
My eyes flicked to Dani to find her watching me, gaze thoughtful. Her expression was less guarded than usual, her face as relaxed as the rest of her, though I couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol or just her getting tired. She’d stopped after her second drink with dinner and had been nursing the same cider for the past hour, so I doubted she was drunk. Maybe a little tipsy.
Robin raised her hands as if in surrender. “Fair enough. Doesn’t change the fact that Dani here needs to get laid.”
Dani’s eyes went huge. “Oh my God, Robin, really?” She laughed as she covered her reddening face with her hand.
My lips tugged up.
“What? There’s no shame in it,” Robin said. “You’re new here, and meeting people is hard. I’m just saying maybe you could redirect some of your therapist-search energy into the more beneficial of the two endeavors.”
I picked at the label on my beer bottle with my thumb and tried to ignore the twisting in my stomach at the thought of Dani getting “benefits” with some random dude. It was bad enough I had the visual of her with my brother, which had apparently been “not a problem” for her. Thank God I knew I had a bigger dick than Alec. Dr. Ohara would scold me for caring, but if I didn’t measure up to Alec there either, my inadequacy complex would be fucking crippling.
“I think our judgments on what qualifies as ‘beneficial’ somewhat differ,” Dani mumbled.
“I see benefits to doing both,” Aubrey chimed in diplomatically.
“Maybe at the same time?” Neela said, waggling her eyebrows.
Robin grinned, dangerous excitement filling her eyes. “Now we’re talking. What wereallyneed is a therapist dating app. To find shrinks in the streets and freaks in the sheets.”
And that was my cue to exit. I pushed to my feet and collected empty bottles.
“There’s no way that’d be ethical,” Dani said as I headed for the bar.
