Ethan Thorne earned his first Michelin star at the age of twenty-two. He owned four restaurants by the age of twenty-five and got his second Michelin star at twenty-six. His first restaurant, Smoke, won best restaurant at the British Restaurant Awards—twice. The James Beard Foundation called him “one of the most versatile chefs in the world” because he’s mastered Indian cuisine—taught to him by his Bengali mother—French cuisine, Korean cuisine, and Italian cuisine. And now he’s set his sights on conquering American cuisine.
One glaring similarity he shares with Edward is his reputation for sleeping with his coworkers, according to the headlines of the articles I refused to read.
It’s no wonder Edward was so desperate for that second Michelin star six months ago. At the age of thirty-two, my ex is straggling far behind his brother in culinary achievements. The fact Edward took out his feelings of inadequacy on me is not something we women in the culinary world are unfamiliar with. But what Edward said to me that day is unforgivable. If Ethan is anything like his twin, I’d be smart to stay as far away from the prickly Thorne brothers as possible.
Finally, the Prius starts moving and I can sit up straight again, slightly disappointed Ethan didn’t attempt to talk to me while we were parked only a few feet away from him. Okay, maybe more than slightly disappointed.
“Does this mean you’re not taking the job?” Minka asks as we drive away from the American Airlines terminal after dropping off David-not-Dave.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “You’re right that this may be my last job offer for a long time, but I can’t stop worrying the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I mean, they have the exact same DNA.”
Minka is silent for a while as she contemplates this. “Maybe. But have you considered it’s your dad who got you this job interview. Do you think he would want his baby working with someone if he thought they were a raging ego-maniac like Edward? You know your dad never liked his bougie ass.”
I chuckle at this. “He loathed Edward,” I reply, and Minka laughs at my use of the word “loathe.” A word Edward loved using.
I smile to myself as I recall the time my father called my ex “a man-child with his head so far up his ass, he can detect the notes of blackberry and stone fruit in the glass of wine he had with lunch.”
We stop at a red light and Minka rounds on me with a serious look in her eyes. “What he said to you was awful. Blacklisting you from the restaurant scene…even worse. I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself,” she begins. “But this is your dream, too.”
“I know,” I shrug.
“Dreams take risks,” she continues with her pep-talk, undaunted by my low-energy response. “Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to at least give the job a try? You can always quit.”
My body relaxes at the idea of an easy way out. “Why do you always have to be so right?”
She shakes her head. “Girl, I’m gonna need you to put that in writing for Eric. That man has been driving me crazy with the decorating bullshit. Who knew I was moving in with a man with such strong opinions on not mixing mid-century style furniture and macramé plant hangers?”
I smile at her cohabitation woes, though I secretly pine for that kind of closeness. Minka and Eric are couple goals. The man is an aspiring foodie who can’t cook to save his life, but she has never once told him that to his face. Eric thinks Minka’s attempts to get me to teach him basic cooking skills are her way of getting the two closest people in her life to bond over food. It’s adorable.
Minka lets out a brief snort. “Imagine how pissed Edward will be when he finds out you’re working with his brother?”
“His better brother,” I correct her.
“Say what?”
“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you I googled him. Seems Ethan is about four times more successful than Edward.”
The shocked look on Minka’s face melts into cackling laughter. It takes her a good minute to catch her breath. “No wonder he was so pressed about you walking out on him,” she says through her wheezing. “That little creep was using you to compensate for his shortcomings.”
My face goes slack. “What?”
“He obviously used you,” she replies. “If he could have gotten that second star without you, he wouldn’t have given two shits if you walked out that door.”
“Holy, crap,” I whisper as her words hit me like a freight train. “I never thought of it that way. You’re so right.”
“Of course, I’m right. You were just a stepping stone to him.”
“Ouch,” I say, physically recoiling from her words.
“Sorry.”
I sit up straighter, my body feeling lighter. “Remember when he called me punctilious? And I had to look it up to find out he hadn’t insulted me. He was just saying I had great attention to detail.”
She rolls her eyes. “God, he was so pretentious.”
“Yeah, pretentious but still inferior to his twin bro. He needed me. He needed my attention to detail.”
Why had I never thought of this before?
We sit in silence for the rest of the ride, Minka’s words echoing in my mind as I question every moment of my eight-month-long relationship with Edward. Was it all a sham? Was I really just his ticket to that second Michelin star?
By the time Minka has made her daily Lyft income goal for the day, four hours have passed. I’m so fired up with this new knowledge about Edward, I decline the offer to share dinner with her and Eric.
“I have some research to do,” I say as she pulls up in front of my parent’s house in Brooklyn.
“He’s only making spaghetti. Kinda hard to get that wrong.”
I laugh as I reach for the car door handle. “It’s not an excuse. I really have some stuff I need to take care of before tomorrow.”
I don’t bother telling her how easy it is to make bad spaghetti, or how I once saw Eric dump an undrained can of cream corn into a pot of store-bought Alfredo sauce.
She eyes me warily. “No cyberstalking Ethan’s socials, okay?”
“Pfft. Not my style.”
“You did break your no-googling rule today.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s only for significant others. Ethan is not a significant other. I google prospective employers all the time.”
She purses her lips like she’s holding back saying something. “So, you are accepting the offer?”
I take my time as I consider my predicament.
I still can’t figure out why my father claimed he’d gotten me an interview with Ethan when—according to Ethan—he was the one who approached my father with the idea, not the other way around. I also had no idea why Ethan would want to work with me after what Edward has been telling everyone, even if ninety percent of the words that come out of Edward’s mouth are lies.
There are so many things I don’t know about Ethan right now, but there are many more things I do know about his twin. And if I play my cards right, I may be able to use that knowledge to my advantage.
I smile as I push the car door open. “Put it this way: I’m not accepting the job offer. I am accepting the offer to make Edward wish he had never crossed me.”