Page 6 of Ours to Lose
“He might,” I agreed. I didn’t believe he would, but there were no guarantees.
“And even if he doesn’t, that won’t mean he’ll stay.”
“You’re right.”
He sighed through his nose, not liking where that left him but too tired to fight it. He rocked our linked hands. “You’ve got work to do. I’ll finish unpacking the boxes.”
“Fifteen minutes to midnight,”I called to Zach as I finished plating a tray of lamb and pear meatballs with a pomegranate-balsamic reduction. “I want the last of the dishes ready to go out in ten. You almost done with the wild mushrooms?”
I patted my hands on the towel tucked into my apron, then reached for the linen napkin to wipe the rims of the plates. The adrenaline rush from the start of the night redoubled as the ball drop drew near, perspiration gathering beneath my chef coat and along the bandanna I wore to keep loose hair off my face.
“Bringing them to you now. Behind.” Zach approached my prep table, his tattoos, piercings, and shaved mohawk as punk rock as you could get in a pristine white chef jacket, and placed the hot frying pan of perfectly glazed wild mushrooms to my right. The earthy aroma of black garlic infused the air.
“Looks good, Chef. Thank you.”
The night was going well so far. Food flowed out of the kitchen on schedule, and empty trays came back in record time. Zach and I had slid into the zone, communication coming easily from having worked hundreds of dinner services together at Ardena.
Once we got through this push, there’d be only desserts and cleanup to handle. With the desserts waiting to be garnished in the blast chiller and two industrial dishwasher machines at our disposal, the rest of the night would be a breeze.
My phone buzzed as I sent out the final round of savory food. I smiled when I saw Gabe’s name, the first I’d heard from him today. It was just before five a.m. in London, which meant either he was up early or he’d had one hell of a New Year’s celebration of his own.
I’d filled him in last night on Evan’s plan to find me a stranger to kiss. A plan Evan had determinedly tried to convince me to accept. He’d popped into the kitchen three times tonight to describe potential candidates he’d spotted at the party in case I’d changed my mind.
I hadn’t. But I did explain to Gabe the reasoning behind Evan’s plan, including that I’d never had a New Year’s kiss, despite Patrick and I being together for three years.
Where I loved any excuse to dress in something sparkly and dance in a crowded room, Patrick had embraced the accountant stereotype of preferring to be in bed by eleven. He’d encouraged me to go out and have fun, which I did. It just meant I’d gotten New Year’s Day kisses, but never one at midnight.
I should have known when I’d mentioned it to Evan months ago that he’d take it on as his personal mission. The only thing as fun for him as prowling through his own love life was meddling in mine.
I smirked at Gabe’s text. They might not be talking, but he and Evan were definitely still brothers.
Gabe:I could help you with that
A handful of butterflies kicked up their wings at the thought, a holdover from the childhood crush I’d buried around the time I left for culinary school. Not that it took a crush to see how attractive Gabe was. Half the people at this party would easily jump on his kiss.
Me:Ha. You’d have to be on the same continent as me first.
“Can we head out for the ball drop, Chef?” Zach asked after starting a load of dishes.
I pocketed my phone. “Definitely. In fact, enjoy the rest of the party. I have dessert covered.”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“You earned it.”
“I can still help with cleanup.”
I waved him off. “Let’s go say hi to everyone.”
We weaved through the crowd of expensive suits and glittering dresses until we found Jase and the group on the edge of the dance floor. They cheered as we approached. Jase’s girlfriend, Dani, was wrapped in his arms while his brother, Alec, and sister-in-law, Steph, raised glasses of champagne.
“The food’s been incredible!” Dani said with a warm smile, her brown hair and fair skin popping against the deep purple of her dress. With Jase in dark trousers and a navy sweater, his own dark hair intentionally ruffled, they looked absurdly attractive together. Not to mention ridiculously happy.
“For real, I can’t stop eating that cheesy onion thing,” Alec said. The sweet onion galette with truffle fonduta. It was basically French onion soup in fancy bite-size form and was always a crowd-pleaser.
Jase flashed me a look that said he’d never expected different. “You’re crushing it, Chef.”
That uncomfortable slurry of pride and melancholy swirled around my chest at the compliment, intensifying when Jase turned to Zach and asked, “You looking for your boyfriend?”
