Page 185 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"Go."

"I can call you later."

"You're spending time with your son."

He's quiet for a second. "Yeah."

I smile. "Go."

"I miss you." The words are simple. They still land.

"I miss you too."

After we hang up, I lie there staring at the ceiling. I'm happy for him. Truly. I just wish I were there to see it.

By the sixth week, the construction dust is gone. The new dining room opens on a Friday night. Every table is booked. The private room is booked too. The kitchen is larger, brighter, and exactly six feet wider because I was right and Julian eventually admitted it. Quietly. Under duress.

I stand at the pass ten minutes before service and look around. This is what we wanted. Not approximately. Not almost. This.

Marco catches me staring. "You okay, Chef?"

"Yeah." I smile. "I'm good."

And I am. Service begins. For the next four hours, there is no Oakridge. No wondering. No missing anyone. There are tickets and plates and heat and timing. There is a dining room full of people eating food we created. There is Julian appearing beside me halfway through service, looking toward the new room. "We did it."

I look at him. He looks exhausted. Happy. A little stunned. "We did."

He hugs me. I hug him back. Then somebody calls for him from the dining room and somebody calls for me from the line. We separate. And get back to work.

Later, after the last table leaves, Julian opens a bottle of champagne. The staff crowds into the new dining room. Someone makes a terrible speech. Someone else makes a worse one. We laugh. We toast. I look around at all of them and feel so proud I could burst. This place was once an empty room and an idea. Now people have to make reservations weeks in advance to eat here. I built this. Julian and I built this. I love it. I still love it. That matters.

Three weeks after the expansion opens, Mom FaceTimes me again. This time, Noah answers. "Where's Grandma?"

"Talking to Betty."

"Why do you have her phone?"

"She gave it to me."

"Progress."

He's outside. Wind moves across the microphone. "Where are you?"

"The farm."

Something inside me shifts. Noah turns the camera before I can ask. For a few dizzy seconds, I see sky, gravel, the side of a barn. Then Ranger appears so close to the screen that all I can see is his nose.

"Ranger!"

"He remembers you."

"He's looking for snacks."

"Same thing."

Atlas comes trotting over behind him. My smile hurts. "Hi, handsome."

"I think Atlas heard you."