Page 60 of Knot So Sweet
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Meredith says gently. "You're so afraid of being like her ex that you won't tell her what you actually want."
Garrick flinches.
"Maybe," Violet says quietly, "I need to know what you want. Not to make my decision for me, but because... because it matters. What you think matters."
"Chef!" Maya's voice cuts through. "Table seven's asking about wine pairings, and..."
I snag a Riesling and thrust it at her. She disappears.
Garrick is staring at Violet like she just said something in a foreign language. "It does?"
"Of course it does." She takes a small step closer to him. "You think I haven't noticed that you've been different today? Distant? I thought... I thought maybe you regretted..." She stops. "I thought maybe you wanted me gone."
"No." The word is fierce. Certain. "Never that."
"Then what do you want?"
The question hangs in the air. Garrick's scent spikes with a dozen different emotions at once.
"I want..." He stops. Tries again. "I want you to stay. But only if that's what you want. Not because I'm asking. Not because you feel like you should. Because you choose it."
Violet's scent blooms warm. "And if I told you I'm not ready to leave yet? That I've been thinking about staying anyway?"
Hope flashes across Garrick's face so clearly it's almost painful to watch.
"Then I'd say..." He swallows hard. "I'd say I'm glad. Really glad. But it still has to be your choice."
"It is my choice." She moves closer. "And I'm choosing to stay. For now. Maybe longer. I don't know yet. But it's my choice, Garrick. Mine. Not yours, not Mark's. Mine."
The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. His scent shifts, the distress fading into something warmer.
"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay."
A crash echoes from the prep station. Julienned carrots scatter across the floor, mixing bowls clattering after them.
"Out!" I bark at the server who nearly slips. "All of you! Out!"
Meredith takes Violet's arm gently. "Come on, dear. Let's let the boys clean up this mess. We can have that drink now."
Violet nods but looks back at Garrick. "We should talk. Later. When you're not covered in flour and I'm not interrupting dinner service."
"Yeah," Garrick agrees. "Later."
They leave. The kitchen doors swing shut.
Garrick stands there for a moment, just breathing. His scent is calmer now. Still worried, still uncertain, but not panicking anymore.
"She's staying," he says, like he can't quite believe it.
"For now," I agree. "Her choice."
"Her choice," he repeats. Then he heads for the exit. "I need air."
The doors swing shut behind him.
I pivot to the wreckage. Carrots everywhere, pans askew, timing shot to hell.
"Chef, sauce for table four!"
