Page 28 of Dirty Chef
“How long do you think it takes before Jack and Isla buy a proper house?” he asked.
I knitted my brows and chewed slower, confused by the question. “Why would they find a house? I think they’re happy where they are. Unless they mentioned anything…?”
Adam shrugged and sat back for a bit. “It’s what parents do, innit? My folks did as soon as Alex was born.”
It was common, sure. “I don’t see them moving. They have plenty of space, and it’s in a good school district.” If I wasn’t mistaken, they owned the little lot behind their three-story townhouse. It would make a cute yard. Right now, it was empty, aside from their trash bins and sometimes Isla’s car. “I wouldn’t want to leave the Valley either,” I said honestly. “I love it here. The other districts don’t really have a central section.” Downtown would be the exception; they had a tiny town center and the marina, both of which were idyllic and filled with little shops and restaurants. And yet, Cedar Valley won, because we had it better. This district was newer. More life. There was a buzz, an energy, that reminded one of a larger city. It wasn’t weird that people called our area Little Seattle.
Adam cocked his head. “You saying you don’t want a house for your army of future kids?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I don’t know where you got army from—or gaggle.” It was what he’d said at the hospital. “I want one or two, and I want them running around in the restaurant while Mama does inventory and samples the wine list.”
Okay, the last part was a joke, but it was a vision of mine. One I felt an increasing loss for. I couldn’t see it as clearly anymore.
“Really.” Adam appeared to struggle processing. Don’t ask me why.
“Really,” I confirmed. “Is that weird?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned to himself and picked up his sandwich again. “I guess I figured your career would take a back seat and you’d want a picket fence and shit.”
What on earth? “Since when did that ever appeal to me?” Was he worried I’d stop working? Did he not know me at all? “Adam, our business is more than work to me. I remember back in the day when we first started out—you warned me that working in the restaurant business was a lifestyle. And it is. And it’s one I love.” I shrugged. “Obviously, I’d be on maternity leave for a bit—or as much as you can as a business owner. But Coho will always be my firstborn.”
I hoped that settled his worry.
As if I’d ever leave what we’d created. Or stop working, for that matter.
Adam ate in silence for a while, and I could tell the wheels were turning. Was this something he’d been genuinely concerned about? I wished he would’ve come to me sooner in that case.
There was no high horse for me to sit on when it came to being forthcoming, but this was work-related. We needed to be open.
“We’re on the same page, aren’t we?” I put my hand on his.
He offered a rueful little smile and flipped his hand to give mine a squeeze. “I think I just joined yours.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
He exhaled a chuckle and shook his head. “You make me want things I never in a million years would’ve otherwise.”
“With work?”
A smirk slid into place. “Yeah. Work. You make me aim higher, I guess.”
I beamed at him. “Good. That’s my job. And to eat your amazing food. The best perk in the world.” I cut into my sandwich with gusto, and it seemed his mood had improved now.
“I thought the best perk was working alongside me.”
I weighed my response and tipped my hand from side to side. “Eh. Top twenty, though.”
He laughed. “You keep me humble.”
“Someone has to!” I grinned and filled my pie hole with all the goodness that was this brisket. Even the fries were on another level.
* * *
Adam had picked a great size for the main meal. I was full but not overly so. Considering the Valentine’s guests would have four meals to enjoy, anything larger would be unnecessary and force us to jack up the price for the event.
While I cleared away the dishes and Adam’s recipe for the sandwich, he wiped down the kitchen island, prepared for our dessert experiment, and picked a new playlist. It didn’t stray from his country rock love, though the songs were slower.
I glanced at him. He had his back to me where he stood by the entertainment center in the living room. Was he even aware of how romantic he was? Probably not. With the lights dimmed low, the love songs playing, the candles…how could he not see?
“Okay, I’m ready to experiment,” I said lightly and dried my hands. The kitchen was spotless again.
