“I mean, everyone is expected to know the menu and wine pairings, the cooking times, regular patrons and so on. And no one is above anyone else. We work together as a team. A true collective. If you’d actually read a single article about me, you’d know that.”
I cringe inwardly as I recall skimming the “About Us” page on the Forked website and thinking that was enough. I hate googling people. It seems like an intrusion of their privacy despite the fact the information is publicly available.
Okay, that’s not totally true. If Minka were here, she would force me to admit I hate googling people I date. But I dated Ethan’s twin brother, so that’s basically the same as dating Ethan, right? Not that I would ever date Ethan.
Despite his perfect forearms and gorgeously symmetrical features—and the fact that he’s my ex’s twin brother—he’s my boss. I’m not here for him. I’m here for the raise and the promotion, and that’s it!
Then, why didn’t you google him properly? The voice in my head niggles at me, forcing me to come face to face with my obvious confusion. It doesn’t help that I can smell the clean scent of Ethan’s skin at this proximity.
He doesn’t smell the same as Edward. He smells better.
Stop!
A soft giggle from someone I can’t see behind Ethan breaks me out of my thoughts.
Ethan’s face is cold. “You clearly have no idea what I’ve built or how I built it,” he says, practically spitting the words at me. “It’s no wonder you’ve—” He cuts himself off before he can finish this thought.
My confusion and embarrassment turn into a raging fire in my belly, and suddenly it’s as if I’m back in that kitchen with Edward. “Go ahead. Finish what you were about to say.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather not. It’s not very gentlemanly.”
His words stoke the fury burning inside me.
“You’re no gentleman,” I say, my words as cold and venomous as the expression in his eyes. “And I may not have done my research on you, but clearly you have been woefully misinformed about me. I don’t take crap from anyone, especially anyone with the last name Thorne!” I turn around and give Ollie a quick hug. “Sorry. I was really looking forward to working with you.”
“Where are you going?” Ethan calls out after me as I head for the double doors.
I stop in front of the line and turn on my heel to look into his dark eyes. “I’m going to get a Lyft, then I’m going to get forked-up, because I quit.”
I don’t look in Judy’s direction as I storm through the pastry kitchen. I refuse to glance over my shoulder to see if Ethan is following me, as he did during my interview, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly hoping he was chasing after me.
But when I make it out onto the sidewalk on the corner of 8th and 23rd, I can’t resist looking back at the entrance doors. No sign of Ethan.
Turning away, I hastily slide my phone out of my back pocket and, with shaking hands, open my Lyft app. I glance over my shoulder again, but no one is coming to stop me. With tears stinging the corners of my eyes, I type in the first address that comes to mind and submit the ride request.
Don’t cry, you silly girl, don’t cry. He’s not worth it.
Drawing in a deep breath, I try to regain control of my emotions.
But the job was worth it.
A painful lump forms in my throat as I realize I’m unemployed again. My dad will be so disappointed.
Even worse, I’ve likely proved everyone’s suspicions about me correct. My former coworkers are probably in there discussing how Edward was right; how I’m not a team player. I’m just a quitter who can’t handle criticism. They have no idea the words Edward spoke to me while we stood alone in that walk-in cooler six months ago.
And they probably never will know, because I’m not just quitting Forked. I’m quitting the culinary arts entirely.
Chapter 5
ALICE
I met Edward at a culinary convention at Javits Center, of all places. Not exactly romantic. I should have known then my heart was destined to wind up splattered on the floor.
He was examining a set of Japanese knives at the booth of an artisan knife smith. I’d be lying if I said his good looks weren’t the first thing I noticed about him. But it didn’t take long to see there was something different about him.
The way he examined the boning knife in his hand, turning it over and over, an intense longing in his eyes; well, I found myself blushing at the thought of him looking at me like that. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for me to realize the longing I saw in his eyes that day would never be directed at me.
At first, it was a challenge to see if I could get him to look at me like that when we were in the bedroom. Then, after he convinced me to work with him, it became my mission to see him look at my culinary creations with that intense approval. And it happened almost immediately.
His appreciation of my saucier and pastry skills made my heart soar, but his obsession with my knowledge of Mexican food stroked my ego like nothing else. He watched my hands so intently as I ground seeds and dried chiles in a molcajete into a paste. He studied the notebook where I kept all my recipes as if it were a bible. But he still never looked at me the way he looked at my food.
Of course, all this only made the words he spoke to me in that walk-in cooler even more damning.
I still question if I ever loved him, or if I only loved the idea of being admired by him.
Minka raises an eyebrow at me as I stir the chicken and dumpling soup Eric made for us without actually putting it in my mouth. “Why are you shaking your head?”
I put down my spoon. “Just thinking about how Edward and I met.”
Minka chuckles. “Girl, you have to stop giving him your energy. He’s not worth it.”
“Obvious statement of the century. Don’t you think I know that?” I reply with zero energy.
She shrugs. “Sometimes, I wonder if you miss him.”
My eyes widen. “Uh...no. Forgive me if I’m a little depressed. I’m sitting here seriously considering quitting my chosen career path because that narcissist used me up and tossed me out like a piece of garbage.”
“Which narcissist?”
I roll my eyes at her question, though it may be a valid query. I don’t know Ethan well enough to know if his pathological tendencies match his brother’s. But being twins, it’s not difficult to imagine they do.
“I’m sorry,” she says, reaching across the round dining table to grab my bowl of cold soup. “I don’t know how you can let him still have this much power over you. Like, why don’t you try getting a job in Brooklyn?”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve tried. I’d have to get a fast-food job or move to Massapequa with Adrian to get away from the legacy Edward gifted me.”
She takes our bowls of soup to the kitchen which is less than ten feet away in the small, gentrified apartment she shares with Eric. Minka’s boyfriend has generously agreed to spend the night at a buddy’s house so she and I can have our second sleepover in two weeks. He even made me some comfort food before he left. It doesn’t matter that the soup was inedible. Eric is a good man.