“Oh. I’m just here visiting. I’m from Seattle. By the way, I’m Laurel.”
“What brings you to Los Angeles?” she asked.
“Business. I work for the Seattle Times, and I write a column called Everything Laurel.”
“Oh my gosh.” She perked up. “I’ve read that a few times. In fact, your columns came up when I was looking something up online.”
“Oh.” I smiled. “What do you think?” I leaned across the table. “It’s okay if you think I suck.”
She let out a light laugh.
“No. I think your columns are great. You give good advice.”
“Thank you.” I placed the napkin on my lap.
The waitress walked over, took our dinner order, and then proceeded to tell me that I was wanted in the kitchen.
“Excuse me, Maddy. I’ll be right back.”
I walked into the kitchen and found Craig standing there with his arms folded and a scowl across his face.
“You wanted to see me?” My brow arched.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a stern voice. “Why are you sitting at Maddy’s table?”
“I’m a journalist, Craig. You wanted to know why she comes to your restaurant every Saturday and Sunday at the same time and sits at the same table. Well, I’m going to find out for you.”
“Laurel, this isn’t funny. Get back to your table.”
“No can do, Mr. Pines. Someone is already sitting there. Now you need to relax.” I placed my hand on his chest. “And by the way, can you please make my and Maddy’s food a top priority? I’m starving.” I smirked as I walked out of his kitchen.
“Everything okay?” Maddy asked.
“Oh yeah.” I waved my hand in front of my face. “I’m doing a day in the life of the owner of this restaurant and he had a question for me. The Seattle Times is branching out and created a magazine called Fusion Daily. My boss put me in charge of interviewing successful, rich, and handsome men under the age of thirty-five.”
“Wow. I want your job.” She lightly smiled.
“I know, right? It’s tough, but someone’s got to do it.” I winked. “What do you do?” I asked her.
“I’m a fashion designer. My dream was to open an online store called Madison’s Utopia.” She looked down.
“Was?” I cocked my head.
“My husband passed away a year ago and I guess you could say that I’ve lost that dream. He was a big part of it, and when he died, that part of me died with him.”
“I’m sorry, Maddy.” I reached over and placed my hand on hers.
“Thanks. So am I.” Her voice saddened. “We were only married two years.” She let out a light laugh as she wiped her teary eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t ever talk about it with anyone, not even my family.”
“Well, I’ve been told many times that I’m a very easy person to talk to.”
“Yeah. You are.” She picked up her wine glass.
“So why are you back tonight if you had dinner here last night?”
“I’ve been coming here every Saturday and Sunday night for months and I sit at this table. My husband held business meetings here and raved about the food and the view. He wanted to take me here so badly because he knew I’d love it. So, for our anniversary, he made reservations and asked if we could be seated at this table because it had the best view. He passed away two days before our anniversary. Coming here helps me feel close to him. The weekends were our time together. No business, no calls, nothing. Just the two of us.”
Oh my God, my heart was breaking for her. The waitress walked over and set our plates down in front of us.
“Thank you. Could you please ask Mr. Pines to come out here for a moment? I need a word with him.” I smiled.
“Sure. I’ll send him out.”
A few moments later, our waitress returned.
“I’m sorry, Miss Holloway, but Mr. Pines is really busy and can’t leave the kitchen.”
“Okay. Well, thank you anyway.”
I knew damn well he wasn’t that busy. He was just afraid to come out and show himself because of Maddy.
“Is the owner the one who was at your table last night?” she asked.
“Yes.” My eyes lit up. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he?” I grinned.
“He is. I’ve seen him a lot. Is he also the chef?”
“He is.” My eyes widened. “That’s why the food here is so spectacular.”
“I’d love to meet him. My husband just raved so much about this place and the food. I would like to thank him.”
“Then you shall.” I smiled.
We continued talking while we ate. Once we were finished, I took care of the bill.
“Seriously, Laurel. Let me pay for mine.”
“Nah.” I waved my hand. “My boss is paying. We talked business.”
“We did?” She gave me a confused look.
“Of course. We talked about Madison’s Utopia. In fact, once you get that online store opened, I want to feature it in our magazine.”
“Are you serious, Laurel?”
“Yes, I’m very serious. I’ll do an interview with you and help spread the word.” I smiled.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.” Tears sprang to her eyes.
“You’re welcome. Now all I need you to do is go after your dream.”
Her lips formed a smile as she gently squeezed my hand.
“In fact, give me your number so we can keep in touch,” I spoke as I pulled out my phone.
After she rattled her number off, she left the restaurant, and I took a seat at the bar until Craig was finished working.
“Still here, Laurel?” Barney smiled.
“I’m waiting for Craig.”
“He already left.”
“What?” I narrowed my eye at him.
“He left about an hour ago.”
“Ugh! Thanks, Barney.”
Now I was angry. Why the fuck did he leave without saying anything? I stomped out of the restaurant, and luckily, there was a line of cabs waiting at the curb. Climbing in the back of one, I gave the cab driver Craig’s address. When he pulled up to the marina, I walked down to his boat and saw him sitting on the deck with a drink in his hand.
“Nice of you to tell me you were leaving,” I spoke in an irritated tone.
“I don’t owe you any type of explanation.” He took a sip of his drink.
“No, you don’t, but it was rude, considering—”
“Considering what, Laurel?” he snapped. “You think I owe you because we slept together a few times?!”
“Do you not know me by now? I could care less if we had sex. That’s not what I’m talking about. I thought we were friends.”
“So, did I until you went and talked with Maddy. How could you do that?”
“Because I know you feel something for her.”
“How the fuck can I when I don’t even know her?” he shouted and walked down to the living area.
“She wants to meet you.” I followed behind.
He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned around.
“What the hell did you say about me?”
“I told her why I was here. To follow you around for an article. Her husband passed away a year ago and your restaurant was his favorite. He made reservations for their anniversary because he wanted to take her there so bad, but he died two days before that could happen. She wants to meet the man who made her husband happy and excited to take her somewhere he loved.”
He took a seat on the couch and placed his face in his hands.
“That’s why she goes to Rosie’s every Saturday and Sunday. It helps her feel close to him. I know you know what that feels like.”
He slowly lifted his head and looked up at me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chapter Eleven
His eyes narrowed at me as he spoke, and I could see the anger as plain as day. Not ju
st anger, but sadness as well.
“I followed you this morning to the cemetery.”
“You what?” he snapped as he stood up.
“I know about your wife and daughter and I’m sorry.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are invading my privacy like that?” he yelled.
“Someone who cares about you and doesn’t want to see you lock your life away because you’re scared to love someone again.”
“Look who the hell is talking!” he scowled. “Isn’t the whole reason you stay away from relationships is because you’re scared of getting hurt? Well, let me tell you something, Laurel, cheating is nothing compared to the pain of losing someone to death.”
“I know that, Craig.”
“Obviously, you don’t. Get the hell out of here now!” He pointed at me. “I don’t ever want to see you again. Do you understand me?!”
“Fine. I’ll go. But let me ask you this. Is this what Rebecca would have wanted? Would she have wanted you to shut down and spend the rest of your life alone? Would you have wanted that for her? Think about that. I know it hurts, but it’s time you started to heal. It’s been five years. You still have your whole damn life in front of you. Don’t waste it, because in the end, you’ll only end up disappointing her, and I know you don’t want to do that.”
I turned and walked away. Once I was outside, I let out a deep breath as tears filled my eyes. I walked to the entrance of the marina and called an Uber to come get me. Once I was inside my hotel room, I combed the internet for a picture of Craig. Eric was going to kill me, but I didn’t care. Fuck him for sending me here.
I poured myself a glass of wine and took it and the bottle out to the balcony. I stood over the railing with the glass pressed to my lips as if it was stuck. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. I walked back inside the room and opened it to find Craig standing there.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Depends. Are you going to yell at me again?” I raised my brow.
“No. I want to apologize to you.”
“Then by all means, come in. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks.”
His hands were tucked tightly into his pants pockets as he paced around the room.
“My father died when I was seven years old and my mother worked afternoons as a nurse in the ER. I was left with a babysitter who cared more about watching reruns of old TV shows than paying attention to me. My mother left it up to her to make sure I had dinner, and the best she could do was make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every night. Eventually, I grew tired of it and decided to cook my own meals. I would sit in my room and watch cooking shows over and over again. I collected a folder filled with recipes and gave my mother a list of ingredients to buy when she went to the grocery store. It became an obsession. I loved preparing food that I knew would make people happy. It was then that I dreamed of owning my own restaurant. As soon as I was old enough, I worked in as many different ones as I could, learning the ropes, so to speak. I studied, and I watched. Sometimes, the chefs would let me help out in the kitchen and were amazed by the dishes I prepared, even though half the time, I was only a busboy. I studied abroad for two years in Paris and Italy, learning from some of the top chefs. After I graduated and returned home, I met Rebecca. I knew the moment I saw her that I was in love with her.”
He took a seat on the couch in the living area and folded his hands while his elbows rested on his knees.
“We dated for three years before I proposed. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We married a year later. I was promoted to executive chef at a restaurant in San Francisco called Coi, and shortly after, the restaurant earned its first Michelin award. She shared my dream of opening up a restaurant and supported me one hundred percent. When we found out a couple of years later that she was pregnant, she decided that it was time I pursued my dream. I was skeptical at first because of our finances, and with a baby on the way, I thought it would be best to wait a couple of years. But she wouldn’t have it. She said we’d be fine and she knew in her heart it was the right time. It took us seven months to find the perfect building, and two days before I was scheduled to close on the loan, I got the call. She was shopping at the mall with her girlfriend and they were having lunch in one of the restaurants when a man walked in with a gun looking for one of the waitresses. Rebecca was a therapist, and she calmed him down, but when the waitress he was looking for refused to come out and see him, he snapped and started shooting. He shot and killed three people, including Rebecca.”
Tears streamed down my face as I took a seat next to him and tightly grabbed his hand.
“She died instantly. The doctors at the hospital tried to save Rosie, but she died a couple of hours later.”
“Craig, I’m so sorry.”
He turned his head and his tear-filled eyes stared into mine.
“The day my wife and daughter died was the day I died with them. I couldn’t stay in San Francisco after that. The memories were too haunting. A week later, I had their bodies transferred to the cemetery here and moved to Los Angeles. Six months later, I opened Rosie’s. We knew we were having a girl and that was Rebecca’s favorite name. I also knew that opening the restaurant was going to take every second of my time and I needed that distraction, so I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into making it the success it is today. The first year we were open, I won the Michelin Award. The restaurant was busy already, but after that, people started pouring in from all over the country, and soon enough, we were running out of space. So, when the building next door became vacant, I expanded, and my business grew even bigger. I literally became a success overnight. There are only a couple of people who know my story and that’s the way I want to keep it.”
“I understand,” I softly spoke.
“You wanted to know why I’m single and that’s the reason. I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I loved Rebecca, and if by chance I did, I’d feel like I was betraying her in some way.”
“You wouldn’t be betraying her, Craig. She wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone.”
“The moment Maddy walked into my restaurant, I could see and sense her sadness. The way she sat at the table and stared out the window. The way she slowly ate her food. I don’t know, Laurel, I felt something, and it fucking freaked me out.”
“You felt the same pain in her as you have,” I softly spoke.
“Anyway, I’m sorry that I yelled at you the way I did. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“It’s okay, Craig. Maybe I overstepped.”
“Maybe?” He let out a light laugh.
“Okay, so I did, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Laurel. You were only looking out for me. For what it’s worth, I’m happy you were so damn pushy about following me around. If you weren’t, we never would have become friends, and I want you as a friend. In fact, I need you as a friend.”
I smiled and placed my hand on his cheek.
“You’re an amazing guy, Craig, and if I totally lived in Los Angeles and was looking for a relationship, I would pursue you until you had no choice but to date me.” I grinned.
“You wouldn’t have had to pursue. I would have dated you anyway.” He winked.
I spent a couple more days with him at his restaurant and he taught me a thing or two about cooking. We talked more about Maddy and I could see that there was a part of him that might be ready to start living again. I had a plan and I prayed I could pull it off.
“I have work to do,” I spoke before leaving his restaurant.
“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll send you back with some carry out?”
“I think you’ve read my mind, Mr. Pines.” I grinned as I tapped his chest. “I’ll just be at the bar waiting.”
About fifteen minutes later, Craig walked over and handed me a plastic bag filled with food.
“Do you have plans tomorrow mor
ning?” I asked.
“Besides being here, no. Why? Do you want to do something?”
“I was thinking we could meet for coffee around ten o’clock at that coffeehouse down the street.”
“I’ll be there.” He smiled. “By the way, when are you heading back to Seattle?”
“I’m not sure yet. Why? Are you sick of me already?”
“No.” He laughed. “It’s just I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, but we have these handy little things.” I held up my phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Thanks for the food.” I kissed his cheek.
I began to walk away and stopped. Setting down the bag, I turned around, walked over to him, and hugged him tight.
“What’s that for?”
“I just felt like giving you a hug.”
Chapter Twelve
Once I got back to the hotel, I went and sat on the balcony. With my phone in hand, I sent a text message to Maddy asking her to meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow morning. The two of them deserved happiness again and if I could make that happen, then my job here was done. With a prompt reply, she agreed.
I went back inside the room, ate dinner, grabbed my laptop, and started writing the article about Craig. The words came as fast as I could type them, and I smiled at the recollection of events and the time we spent together. As I was in thought, my phone rang, and Eric’s face appeared.
“Hey, Eric.”
“Your time is up in Los Angeles. No more excuses. I’m not paying for another day there.”
“Chill out. I’m hopping on a plane to New York tomorrow. Since it’s already Wednesday, I’m going to try and get that interview with Wyatt Coleman, go to the ballet, and with any luck, I’ll be back in Seattle on Sunday.”
“Oh. So, you do have a plan. I was almost thinking that you weren’t ever leaving Los Angeles. I miss you, kid. Hurry up and get back here. George misses you too.”
“I will, Eric.”
The next morning, I showered, got dressed, and packed my suitcase. Taking one last look around the room, I grabbed my carryon and wheeled my suitcase behind me. It was nine forty-five when I walked through the doors of the coffee house.