“Because he knew you didn't want to talk to him. Because he didn't want to force you into something when you already hated him so much.”
Tension builds in my shoulders and up the back of my neck, tightening every muscle and threatening to bring on a migraine I can't afford right now. “Is this why you called? To harass me about choosing not to have a relationship with that man, even now that he's dead?”
He sighs again—a soul-deep sound that makes me cringe. “No. I was actually calling to let you know we got enough tickets for everyone to come to the game when the Scorpions play the Rangers. Rach and Flynn are coming, and we were hoping we could get a little preview of your place if it’s not open yet.”
I turn around and scan the space, rolling through the lengthy list of everything that still needs to happen. “Still have a lot to do.”
“It's been a long time since you cooked for everyone.”
It has been. And despite the tension that still exists between Bash and me, it'll be good to see him and Rachel—plus, I really do need her help to finalize all the little details.
“Text me all the information about when you’ll be here, and I'll see what I can do to whip something up for everyone.”
“Sounds good.”
“And Bash?”
“What?”
The truth of what I've been doing sits on the tip of my tongue—a confession I haven't made to anyone yet and one I don't know that I'm ready to make now. Not when it means examining things I've long buried and held so deeply that I had hoped they would never surface.
And they won’t. Not right now.
Instead of confessing what will only continue to tear open old wounds, I scrub my hand over my face and lean back against the bar. “It will be good to see you.”
Way to chicken out, Jamo.
I just can't tell him. Maybe when they’re here. Maybe I'll finally be at the point where I can understand and explain it to him, too. Because right now, I don’t even understand it enough to know why I do it.
“It'll be good to see you, too. You think you’ll be open by then?”
It’s my turn to release a heavy sigh. “As much as I wish I could say yes, I don’t think so. But we should be close. I'm trying to open as fast as I can because another restaurant is going in right next door.”
“Really? Who would be dumb enough to open a restaurant next door to you after all the recent publicity you’ve gotten?”
I chuckle and rub at the back of my neck. “A totally hot chick named Isabella, actually.”
“Oh…” His deep laugh rumbles through the phone. “A hot chick, huh? Sounds like that's more trouble than actually getting the restaurant up and running.”
“Nah. It's not like that.” I run a hand back through my hair and instinctively stare at the wall I share with Isabella’s place. “I'm not stupid enough to get involved with my competition. I'm having too much fun messing with her.”
“Oh, God.” Bash laughs again. “What did you do?”
“Just took a page from your playbook. Playing a little dirty.”
“I gave all that up.”
“Only because you pussied out.”
“Pussied out?” He barks a laugh. “You just wait. One day, some woman is going to blindside you. You’ll never even see her coming, and then you’re going to rethink that comment and apologize to me.”
“Apologize to you?” I snort. “That’ll be the fuckin’ day.”
“Ha ha.”
The door opens, and Danny walks in with his clipboard full of our work list.
I glance at my watch. “Hey, look, Bash, I gotta go. My contractor just showed up. Text me the information.”
“I will. And hey, Jamo? Let me leave you with this piece of advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Playing dirty can be fun, and yes, even sometimes necessary, but just remember it has consequences.”
“I already know I’m creating another enemy.”
That’s never been anything I’ve been concerned with.
“I’m talking about more than that, Jameson. I’m talking about the kind of consequences that are internal.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Nor does he need to. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I watched it happen to our own father. Saw it starting to happen with Bash, too, before he met Greer and got wise.
“Talk to you later.” I end the call and shove my phone into my back pocket as Danny approaches.
Bash may be right about one thing—playing dirty is necessary sometimes. I have no intention of changing my tactics with the beauty next door. Not until I’ve won.
IZZY
“Are you sure you don't need me to come over?”
Ashley doesn’t bother to hide the concern in her voice—nor is it unexpected coming from her.
Over the years, as Grams started to decline and I was taking care of her more than she was taking care of me, Ash seemed to naturally step into the role of “mothering” me despite my insisting it isn’t needed.
While Grams tried to monitor me and help if I needed it, my staunch independence tended to get in the way of that and cause arguments more often than not.
It’s the same with Ash. She would do anything for me, and I for her. But it doesn’t mean I want her to. I would probably need to be on the floor gasping for my final breath before I would actually ask for her help.
Which I honestly don’t need right now, despite her thinking otherwise.
I turn onto my side, which sends a slight stab of pain to my side. Fighting the urge to groan and alert Ash to how truly uncomfortable I am tonight, I sigh instead. “Yes. I'm sure.”
“Because you know I will be there in ten minutes if you need me to be.”
“I know, Ash. And I appreciate it. Really.” Even though I don’t say it out loud often enough, she knows I love the shit out of her and appreciate having her in my life more than I can voice. I glance at the clock. “But it's already midnight. You need sleep as badly as I do.”
Maybe even more so. While I’ve been working day and night to try to start up Grandma’s Kitchen, she’s been busting her butt working as sous chef at the right hand of one of the most well-respected chefs in New York. We both developed our love of food in Grams’ kitchen, and seeing her thrive in the same profession has been almost as fulfilling as doing it myself.
“I'm worried about you, Iz. You’re just coming home now? That’s a long day on your feet and doing manual labor. You’re not taking care of yourself.”
“I'm okay.”
She scoffs and chuckles. “I'm pretty sure the last time you told me that, you ended up in the hospital.”
“That was different. I have things under control now.”
Mostly.
She’s right. I have been pushing myself too hard. Staying on my feet too long and coming home later than I should. It’s a recipe for a crash. But it’s only temporary. I can relax and take a small step back once my place is open and I have help from the staff getting things under control.
Ashley releases a heavy sigh. “Do you? Because it doesn't sound like it.”