Page 85 of Ours to Lose
“It failed miserably. I tried to do everything on my own, refused to ask for help, and insisted the only way I could prove myself was if no one else was involved. But running a business isn’t about doing everything on your own. It’s about getting the right people to help you do what needs to get done.” She stood and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Asking for help isn’t a sign you’ve failed. It just means you’ve recognized your limits. It’s whatsuccessfulpeople do,” she said, shaking me slightly. “I’ve asked a hell of a lot from you. I never expected you to do it alone.”
“Butyoushouldn’t be the one who has to do it,” I argued.
She spun to her desk to find a pen. “Why not? It’s my business. Where’s the fun if I can’t get my hands a little dirty?” She glanced at me from her notepad. “Figuratively, of course. I don’t cook.”
I cracked a smile.
“I’ll make a few calls, see if we can’t find a couple of promising chefs for you to interview.”
Already, my chest felt lighter. I didn’t even dread the idea of a few more interviews. Not if they came from Jillian.
“About the competition,” she added, her face softening. “Just have fun with it. I already know what you can do. You don’t need to prove it to me. Winning would merely be a bonus.”
“Really?” I asked, skeptical.
She looked almost bashful. “I know you were probably annoyed I entered you, the same way Jase was annoyed I volunteered the restaurant to cater the symposium last year.” She composed her face and raised her chin. “I like showing the two of you off. You’ll get no apologies for it.”
Well, when she put it like that.
“I’ll try to let go of some of the pressure,” I said.
“And you’ll let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.” It wasn’t a question.
“I will,” I promised.
She nodded. “Good.”
On the way out through the dining room, I popped my head into the kitchen. “Hey, Chef?”
Jase swung his gaze from the tickets to me.
“Think we could meet up next week to workshop some menu ideas for the catering competition? I’m stuck.”
He grinned. “I’d love to, Chef.”
I let out a breath as another weight lifted from my shoulders.
“You grabbing some food?” he asked.
I considered it. For once, the idea of being here as just another customer didn’t fold my stomach into a lump of overworked dough.
But I had other plans tonight. Ones with Gabe, who I’d barely seen since my birthday, thanks to the three events I’d squeezed in the past week and a half. And with the boxing tournament next week, all Gabe’s focus after tonight would be on it.
“Next time,” I said to Jase, meaning it.
Maybe Gabe would want to come with me. Like after the boxing tournament, when maybe he’d be here for good.
It was a dangerous thought. One I had no business hanging on to.
I let myself have it anyway, just for a moment.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gabe
Cheersfrom the ongoing match soaked through the walls of the arena’s back room where Coach Lou wrapped my hands. We sat on metal folding chairs in one corner while a few other fighters did their prefight routines on the other side. Members of their teams spoke on the phone or with each other, adding their chatter to the white noise of the crowd’s hollering. I’d reached the point in the day when it all turned to silence in my head.
One hour until my first fight of the tournament.
