That Secret Crush Page 14

  “Dad—”

  “No.” He slams his fist on the table, anger quickly taking over. “I refuse, as your father, to sit back and watch you waste your life doing something that doesn’t feed your soul. This is your life, Reid, and you only get one. And sure, you failed once. Doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you quit your passion. Failure should not define you, but it sure as hell should motivate you.”

  “I gave that up,” I reply. The words fall past my lips, though I don’t know if I really believe them. I gave up cooking, but that doesn’t mean the urge to pick up my knives doesn’t still burn in my bones.

  “You hung up your apron, but you didn’t lose your God-given talent. It’s time you set aside your pride and try again.”

  I drag my hand through my hair, my thoughts racing at having another shot at what I thought was supposed to be my calling. “But what if I fuck up this one? This isn’t my money; this is yours. I can’t do that to you and Mom. You’re both retiring soon.”

  “First of all, we’re fine with our retirement, so don’t worry about us. Secondly, you won’t fuck this up because you’re going to hire people I trust, people I know will make this restaurant thrive. And that brings me to this—there’s one condition to my proposal.” I should have known. There’s always a condition when it comes to my dad. “You will not be doing this alone.”

  “So are you saying you’ll be the world’s loudest silent partner?”

  He shakes his head. “No. The only way you’re going to be putting together this restaurant is with Eric.”

  “What?” I ask, sitting a little taller. Eric, as in Eric, my best friend? The guy I’ve barely spoken to in almost three years? The one who helped bring down the first restaurant? “Why?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “Why would you take a chance on two guys who basically let their restaurant go up in flames? Why take those chances?”

  He looks me straight in the eye. “Because I believe in you. I believe in the partnership you two created. I believe in your food, and I sure as hell believe in your vision.” He holds my gaze. “You two had the hottest new restaurant in Boston, not just in a small town but in Boston. Your food was brilliant and brought people in from all over. Your talent is incomparable, and I want that for my restaurant.”

  “Dad . . .” I sigh as my mind rages with possibility and doubt. “I . . . fuck, I don’t know.”

  “What’s keeping you from saying yes?”

  I shuffle my fork around the crumbs some more, like it’s a zen garden, but it’s not doing much to calm my nerves. “The possibility of taking a handout, failing again, disappointing you . . . disappointing myself.”

  “First of all, this isn’t a handout—this is a serious business opportunity that I’ve been thinking about for a long time, that I’ve dreamed of, and it just so happens that my son is a brilliant, trained chef. Secondly, failure is what makes us stronger. Without failure, we would never succeed. You failed big time in Boston, but instead of quitting, you need to learn from your mistakes and make sure you don’t repeat them. Failure is an opportunity to grow, not a chance to give up.”

  I know he’s right, but it still doesn’t stop me from feeling sick to my stomach.

  “But I haven’t really talked to Eric in years. He has a job. He’s not going to want to leave it.”

  “Looks like you need to plan a trip to Boston then and do some convincing.”

  There’s no doubt in my mind that my dad has ulterior motives here. He’s always hated that Eric and I had a falling-out and knew it was like I’d lost a fourth brother.

  “I don’t know, Dad.” Emotion wells up inside me. Fear, excitement, the chance for something new—it’s all-consuming, and before I know it, I find my dad sitting right next to me, hand on my shoulder as my throat starts to close and fucking tears well up in my eyes. What the hell is happening to me?

  “Talk to me, Reid.”

  “I’m . . . I’m scared,” I admit, head turned down, unable to look my father in the eyes. “That restaurant was everything to me; I worked my ass off to open it. I put every last penny I had into that place, and then it was just gone. One night, one person, that was all it took. My dream was stolen, and I had nothing to fall back on. I don’t know if I can go through that again.” A tear falls from my eye. “I don’t think I can put that much hope and love into something again, not when I’m constantly worried we’re going to fail. I can’t do that to you either.”

  He lifts my chin, his finger rough against my skin. “I won’t let you fail, and I won’t let you stop chasing your passion. Cooking, creating, that’s what makes you happy. You’re alive in the kitchen, Reid; it’s where your heart beats, where your mind soars. You belong there, and I’ll be damned if I leave this earth with the knowledge that you aren’t doing what you’re meant to do. You’re a chef, always have been, always will be.”

  More tears stream down my face, and I’m grateful it’s just my dad and me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a moment like this with him, not even after everything crashed and burned with the restaurant. I pushed everyone away, so this time with him and these tears are long overdue.

  “Tell me this—do you miss it?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, I do. It’s like a piece of me has been lost since I quit, and I’ve been too scared to even go looking for it. Too scared to try again.”

  “Then say yes. Take a leap of faith; know your skill and your ability. You know you can do this.”

  I wipe the tears from my cheeks and think about it. I could really do this; I know I could. This could be my second act, my chance to do things differently—to be cautious where it counts but daring where it pays off. This could be my chance to bring all the flavors I love back to life.

  But will Eric want to work with me again?

  “I don’t think Eric will do it,” I say honestly. “We didn’t end things on a happy note. The only time we really talk right now is on each other’s birthdays, and it’s a quick text. Things are strained between us. And then . . . fuck.” My stomach drops.

  “What?” Dad asks, his hand gripping my shoulder.

  “What about Eve?”

  “What about her?”

  “Eric doesn’t know. I don’t think he’ll like the fact that I’m seeing his sister. He’s always been protective of her, and when we were young, he made it quite clear where my feelings should stand with her: just friendship. When I wasn’t speaking to him, I didn’t think it would be an issue. But if I have to work with him, then what the hell do I do?”

  “Work it out. That’s all I can say—you just need to work it out.”

  I look up at my father, feeling dizzy. “You kind of flipped my world upside down.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, but in a good way.”

  “I don’t know. Give me some time to think about it, okay?”

  “You have a week, and then I’m moving on to someone else.”

  “You would really hire another chef?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yeah, I would. Like I said, it’s been a dream of mine to have a restaurant connected to the Landing, and just because I can’t get my son to work with me that doesn’t mean no one else will.”

  I nod again. “Ahh, I see what you did there.”

  “Good. Now stop being a moron and make the right choice.”

  The water is a little more restless than normal on my houseboat, which is only fitting because it matches the churning in the pit of my stomach.

  A fucking restaurant.

  My dad wants me to open a restaurant with him.

  Of course, there have been rumors about a possible Lobster Landing–affiliated restaurant circulating around town for years. But I always thought that was all they were: rumors. In a small town, the gossip tends to be outrageous at best, and I never wanted to even consider the possibility.

  But here it is.

  My dad wants me to open a restaurant with him, and a huge part of me is screaming yes. It was almost like my dad waf
ted a huge breath of fresh air into my lungs and awakened me. I didn’t realize how dead I’ve really been over the past few years, until my dad just up and made me this offer.

  I want to do it. I can feel the urge to pull out my knives right now simmering in the marrow of my bones. But reconnecting with Eric? Putting everything at risk again? Possibly killing my dad’s dream like I killed mine?

  The pressure is already building, and I haven’t even said yes.

  I stare down at my phone, needing someone to bounce this off of. My first thought is to dial Eve’s number, to talk to her about my worries and fears but also about the small excitement that’s brewing inside of me—but I don’t want to get her involved. At least, not yet. Not when I have no fucking clue what I really want.

  Which leaves the group. Before I can stop myself, I shoot off a text.

  Reid: I need to talk about something serious.

  It doesn’t take long to get a response.

  Griffin: What’s it about?

  Rogan: If your pee burns, get it checked.

  Brig: Are you proposing?

  Yup, I probably should have just texted Griffin.

  Reid: Dad had a talk with me.

  Brig: Did you ask for mom’s ring?

  Rogan: Oh shit, Eve’s pregnant.

  Griffin: You idiots, it’s probably about the restaurant.

  Rogan: Is it?

  Brig: No proposal?

  Reid: No proposal. Jesus, Brig. And yes, it’s about the restaurant.

  Just as I hit “Send,” there’s a knock on my door. I glance up as all three of my brothers barge in, their arms overflowing with beers and wrapped-up meatball subs from our favorite Italian place in town, Moretti’s. I would know that shape and size anywhere.

  After they come piling in, making a scene by tackling me and throwing off their jackets and shoes, I finally catch my breath. “You couldn’t have just texted that you were right outside?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Rogan asks, rubbing his hand over my hair. Even though we’re in our twenties, he still treats me like we’re kids.

  “I love the dramatics of it all,” Brig says, handing me an opened beer. “But seriously, were you thinking about proposing to Eve?”

  “No!”

  Rogan yanks on Brig’s arm, forcing him down onto one of the dining table chairs they moved across from the sofa. And then like the good oldest brother he is, Griffin hands out the subs with napkins. Italian sauce and spices waft through my house as we all unwrap the subs and take large bites.

  With his mouth full, Griffin asks, “So, Dad told you about the restaurant, huh?”

  I swallow and nod. “Yeah. Did you all know?”

  “I didn’t.” Brig primly pats his mouth with his napkin like a dipshit. I swear he does stuff like that just to get a reaction from us. “Apparently Dad didn’t want me spilling the beans. But I can keep secrets.”

  We all stare at him for a few beats before shaking our heads.

  “He asked me for investment advice,” Rogan chimes in. “I’ll admit I didn’t think it was the best idea, since you’ve been such a bastard over the past three years, but after talking to Dad again, I think it could work.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” Griffin adds. “I think it would be good for you, for both of you. Dad has always blamed himself for what happened with the first restaurant. He thought that if he’d made you stay in school longer or helped you with the gritty details of running a business, you and Eric might have made it.”

  “So this is a pity ask?” My stomach aches at the thought.

  Rogan shakes his head. “No, it’s not. This was a well-thought-out decision on Dad’s end. He considered going with someone else, but in the end, he knew he wanted to work with you. According to him, you’re the most brilliant chef he knows, and he wants brilliance for this restaurant. His words.”

  Brig claps a hand over his chest. “He really said that? Hell, I wish Dad would say something like that about me. Do you think he thinks I’m the most brilliant mechanic he knows?”

  “Not about you, Brig,” Griffin mutters. “And Rogan’s right: Dad spoke to me about his choices as well, and when it came down to it, you were his number one pick. Not because he felt bad or because you’re his son but because he truly believes you will turn that empty space into the best restaurant in Port Snow.”

  “Shit,” I say, laughing and taking an uncomfortable swig of beer. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “The best kind,” Rogan says with a nudge of his elbow. “Soak in the challenge, and come out swinging. You can kill this, Reid. We all know you can.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Dad sent you along with meatball subs to convince me?”

  “No,” Griffin says, taking another bite. “He wanted us to check on you, so we came here as a group to make sure you didn’t let your fear make a bad decision. Face it, Reid, you haven’t been happy since you’ve moved back here. You need this in your life, and like Dad always says, do what feeds your soul. This is it.”

  “Yeah,” Rogan chimes in. “So make the right decision, and don’t be a goddamn idiot.”

  I stare down at my sub. “He’ll only give me the job if Eric comes along for the ride. Which means I’ll have to face him.”

  “Do I smell a road trip?” Brig asks, rubbing his hands together.

  “No,” I answer, dead serious.

  “Come on, I’m a good time, and you don’t want to drive all the way down there by yourself.”

  “I really do.”

  “So you’re going to go down there?” Rogan asks. “Maybe take Eve with you. I’m sure she’d like to see her brother.”

  “Oh yeah, great idea,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me bring his sister—the girl I’m fucking—down to convince him to come back to small-town Port Snow to start another restaurant with me.”

  “It’s not a terrible idea.” Rogan shrugs.

  “Rogue, it’s a horrible idea. Now that I’m involved with Eve, the whole situation is exponentially more complicated. I wish Dad asked me to do this before I started seeing Eve.”

  “Why?” Griffin asks. “Because then you wouldn’t have made a move?”

  “No, probably not, because I would have known what an awkward situation that would be. It’s not like Eric is just her brother—he’s her twin. They were attached at the hip growing up. It’s only been since their dad passed and we lost the restaurant that Eric has been distant with her. There’s so much shit between them, so much unsaid crap, that bringing me into the mix just overcomplicates everything.” It burns to admit that. But even though I know my relationship with Eve just adds another level of complication, I still want to be with her. I still need to be with her. She’s special. It isn’t just about the sex with this woman or the way she keeps me on my toes; it’s about how she makes me feel. It’s like she parts the dark cloud that hovers over my head and helps me see my true self.

  I don’t want to lose that.

  But will I still have to?

  “So what are you saying?” Brig asks, growing serious. “Are you going to break up with Eve?”

  “No,” I answer quickly, my chest aching at the thought. “I mean, I don’t want to.”

  “But if you have to?” Rogan’s brow pinches together.

  “Fuck, I don’t know.” I set my sandwich down and grip the back of my neck just as there’s another knock at the door. Is Jen joining the party? “Come in!” I shout.

  The door opens, and it’s a girl all right, but it’s not my sister. It’s Eve. Speak of the devil. As her eyes sweep the room, she winces and stays in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were all here. I can leave.”

  “Nah,” Griffin says, standing up quickly. “We were just heading out.”

  “Oh, yup, we were leaving.” Rogan stands too, his bad leg giving him a bit of trouble before he escapes the deep, old cushions.

  “What?” Brig looks around, confused. “
I wasn’t done. We were just getting to the good stuff. I want to know what—”

  “Unless you want to walk home, we’re leaving,” Griffin says in his big brother voice, which used to terrify us. Now it’s barely a blip on the radar—but still effective because Brig stands, grumbling something under his breath, and puts his jacket and shoes on with Griffin and Rogan. Half-eaten sandwiches in hand, they all give me a quick wave and take off up the dock to their parked car, leaving me alone with Eve, who’s biting her lip, confused.

  As the door closes behind my brothers, a pang of regret hits me all at once. Here I am with this woman who has practically taken over my brain, and I was just talking about her as if I could let her go. What was I even thinking?

  “They didn’t have to leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were talking about.”

  “It’s fine.” I beckon her with my finger. She takes off her coat and walks over to me, and with a tug, I pull her down on my lap and cup her jaw. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey,” she answers with a furrow to her brow.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Just concerned, that’s all. I mean, I haven’t heard from you all day, and then when I come over, all your brothers are giving you what looked like an intervention. Is everything okay? Are we okay?”

  “Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Everything’s fine.” The lies flow before I can stop myself.

  “What did your dad want to talk to you about? Was it a Willy proposition?” She smiles, but it barely reaches her eyes. Mine barely reaches as well.

  This was the moment I’ve been dreading ever since my dad and I talked—and why I’ve been avoiding Eve all day: I just can’t decide if I should tell her about my dad’s proposition, especially since my answer is still up in the air. Not to mention the fact that her brother is involved as well. And now, confronted with her uncertain gaze, I realize that even though we’re together, this is something I don’t think I can talk to her about. Not right now—not when I don’t even know what I’m doing yet.