Tears wet my eyes. Since when had sex turned into this life-altering, incredibly beautiful experience? It had never been like this for me. It had never been soul deep and breath-stealing—a complete and utter connection on every single level—before. But that was always how Wyatt was. He defied every norm I had. He broke every rule and exceeded every expectation. He was and had been and would always be my exception.
And I loved him for it.
I loved him too.
His thumb brushed over my cheek and I realized it was wet. He caught a tear that I had shed. Oh my God! I was crying during sex! He’d actually broken me.
But instead of embarrassment, I was overcome with joy. Wyatt loved me.
“I love you too,” I whispered to him, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat. “I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”
“Good,” he said with a blinding smile that made my heart flip flop inside my chest. And then he moved. And didn’t stop moving.
We clung together in a sweaty, tangled mess until we were both panting and desperate and taut with desire. He pushed me over the edge, sending me into a dizzying, blinding whirlwind of electric sensation. And then he followed me, groaning my name and another I love you in such a way that I knew I would never be the same, that this was the moment that changed me forever and ever amen.
His head landed on my heart as we both came down from life-altering orgasms that were about five years in the making.
“Knew it would be that good.” His words rumbled against my skin.
I laughed, but it was breathy and weak, like my entire body. “The question is, would you still love me if I was bad at sex.”
His head lifted, and he grinned at me. “Who said you were good at it?”
I slapped his arm and glared at him.
Settling in against my side, he slid his bicep under my head and pulled me against him. “Kaya, I would of course, still love you if you were bad at sex. I’d just make you practice a lot. You know, so you could get better. I don’t want you to be deficient in any area. I’m nice like that.” His fingers brushed over my stomach in a hypnotically soothing kind of way. “Now that I’m thinking about it though, there were actually several things you could improve. We should probably spend a significant amount of time working in that area. Practice makes perfect and all that.”
I opened my mouth to say something about how he could just be celibate for the rest of his life, but a dinging in the kitchen interrupted my thoughts.
“What is that?”
“The quiche!” He hopped up so quickly, my head bounced back on the pillows. He jumped out of bed completely naked and I had the immense pleasure of watching him sprint from the room—with the perfect view of his muscled, bare ass. “Don’t move!” he shouted at me.
My sweat had started to cool, so I slid beneath his comforter and pulled it to my chin. Five minutes later, I hadn’t moved. Instead, I found myself smiling at my lap while my fingers traced circles in the blanket.
I’d agreed to a date with Wyatt, but what I’d actually gotten was sex, love, and a relationship. A seriously committed relationship.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
When he came back, carrying two plates that smelled like heaven and looked like pieces of priceless art, I’d decided that this was what “making it” must feel like, finally reaching all my goals and aspirations. This was what living the dream felt like.
For so long I had been obsessed with my career and getting to the next level and creating a legacy for myself that I hadn’t even noticed what my life had been lacking. Yes, my career was important. And yes, I would continue to work as hard as it took to get the things I wanted. But this was what life was about—relationships. And doing them well.
I almost had my career goals within my grasp, but without Wyatt I would have been lonely and hung-up on the past. I would have existed but my insides would’ve been empty.
Wyatt fulfilled so many depleted places of me that it was honestly hard to comprehend how whole I felt. Maybe for the first time in my entire life, I felt like my career wasn’t the shining star of my life and that maybe, possibly, there was more to me than just cooking.
Wyatt seemed to think that anyway.
And I also knew that one person could not fulfill all my emotional, physical, and spiritual needs. I knew I had a lot of work to do to make myself whole. But I also knew that Wyatt was a good place to start. And he would be a good cheerleader as I waded through the rest of the bog and tackled my issues one by one.
This wasn’t only a new relationship. This was a new beginning for me. And with Wyatt by my side, I finally believed I could start over. I knew we could tackle this life together and take whatever we wanted from it.
He slid into bed beside me, burrowing beneath the comforter too. I mourned the loss of his body on display, but the quiche was so hot it was steaming. I figured that was a dangerous game to play with all our bits on display.
I accepted the massive plate of food from him. “Good thing I’m starving,” I told him.
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I figured we worked up a pretty good appetite.”
“Good point.”
I settled the plate on my lap, the bottom of it burning through the blankets to warm my legs. The heat felt good, and the quiche was everything it should be. Light and fluffy, packed with veggies and bacon. The crust turned out exactly right. Apparently, Wyatt hadn’t been lying. He knew how to cook an amazing quiche.
Smiling around my first bite, I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised. The man could literally do anything he put his mind to. However, quiche was such a strange dish to claim. I had expected him to have signature short ribs or beef bourguignon. Instead, it was quiche. And adorable.
And it tasted amazing. “Yum.”
He nudged me with his elbow. “Told you.”
“Mmm,” I agreed around another bite of too-hot deliciousness. “Maybe tomorrow you can make me a casserole. You know, round out your style for me.”
His rumbly laugh filled the room and he leaned over and bit my bare shoulder. “Maybe you should cook for me tomorrow,” he suggested.
“You already judge my cooking every night,” I reminded him. “At least I didn’t yell at you across the house.”
“I never yell at you.”
“Umm, sometimes you do.”
“Maybe I raise my voice, but it’s never out of anger.”
I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a look. “What is it out of then?”
“Sexual frustration?”
Shaking my head at him, I laughed again. “Does that mean you’ll be cool as a cucumber from now on?”
He stuck out his lower lip and thought about it. “Maybe,” he conceded. “As long as you keep me satisfied.”
I thought about calling him on his bologna, but I was having too much fun razzing him. “Great,” I sighed. “Lilou’s going to implode, all because Wyatt is finally getting laid consistently.”
“Hey, if I had to choose one or the other, pretty sure I’m going with getting laid.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I laughed, “I won’t be there for much longer anyway.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to shove them back in. Abort, abort! blared through my head, but it was too late.
I’d already said the stupid thing.
And Wyatt picked up on it immediately.
He set his plate down and slowly turned to face me. The humor had drained out of his expression and his eyes were that swirling storm I knew to be careful around. “What does that mean?” he demanded.
I took another bite of quiche and hummed my approval at the delightful ratio of bacon to mushrooms. “This is so good, chef. I can’t believe how good it is.”
“Don’t try to sweet talk me now, Swift. Spit it out.”
“The quiche?”
“The truth, damn it.”
Nerves swirled in my belly and my skin felt hot and itchy and too tight. Was this the mom
ent I ruined everything again? Was this my bad luck on repeat?
Wyatt and I had finally found this amazing, wonderful, incredible thing and I was going to leave him to work at Sarita. Hopefully. Okay, to be fair, I wasn’t leaving the city. But with our crazy schedules, I might as well have been leaving him to move to Mars.
“Kaya,” he growled impatiently.
I blew out a quivering breath and decided it best to just rip off the Band-Aid. This was a fantastic morning. I would probably remember every detail of it for the rest of my life. I honestly had no idea how Wyatt would react to my secret. Although, we had discussed the possibility of me leaving at some point for my own restaurant, it had only been hypothetical until now.
“Sarita,” I blurted, anxiety getting the best of me. “I’m trying out for Sarita’s executive chef position.”
“Sarita?”
I shrugged.
“Is that where you’ve been Sunday evenings?”
I squinted and tried to keep my voice from quivering from fear of his reaction. “Vera’s been, er, kind of training me to take over. Hopefully.”
“Sarita?” he repeated as if it were the most unbelievable thing he’d ever heard.
I shrugged again. “I don’t know… yeah…” Confidence bloomed somewhere near my knees and started walking its way up to my heart, one baby step at a time. “Sarita. I like her a lot. She has more of a vibe I can relate to. And I love the design of her menu and bar. I… the position opened up and I knew I wanted it. Ezra’s interviewing me next Monday.” I sucked on my lip ring for a second and then added, “Oh, so I need that day off too.”
His expression remained unreadable, mysterious and closed off. “Are you sure you want to work for Ezra?” he asked. “He’s pretty much the worst.”
Good question. But I already knew my answer. “I get that. But he also has some of the best restaurants in the city. Maybe even the country. I want to run one. I want to do the awards and the magazine spreads and make a name for myself. Ezra might be hard to work with, but I know I can reach my goals in one of his restaurants. Plus… I can’t explain the connection I feel with Sarita. It’s like we bonded on a spiritual level. I was made for her. And she was made for me.”
“What if you don’t get the job?” he asked.
“Then I quit cooking. Completely.” I laughed at my joke, but he didn’t seem to find it as funny. In fact, he didn’t laugh at all.
“Be serious, Ky. What if he doesn’t give it to you?”
What if? What if what if what if what if?
The words had been bouncing around in my head for weeks. Hell, maybe I’d been facing them for years. What if I had stayed in Hamilton? What if Nolan had moved to Durham? What if I wasn’t so defiant and at the same time, paralyzed with the fear of failure?
But for the first time in years, the question didn’t hit me quite so hard. “I keep working for you,” I told him honestly. “Or Vera and Killian. Vera has done everything but flat-out offer me the sous chef position. At least that’s a lateral move.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fuck Vera and Killian.”
“Wyatt!”
His smile took the edge off his harsh words. “Seriously though, they’re trying to poach from me already? Filthy rat bastards.”
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “I think they’re trying to find people they can trust.”
He grumbled more curse words, but eventually he said, “That job would never have any advancement. Vera and Killian will always be ECs. You’ll only ever be a sous chef there.”
Nodding, I said, “I realize that. That’s exactly why I’m not seriously considering the position. I was flattered she asked, but the position isn’t for me.”
“She would ask. She’d be dumb not to,” he grunted. “You’re too fucking good for your own good.”
His words were meant as an insult, but they hit me right in the chest with hope and truth and a whisper that maybe Sarita wasn’t impossible.
“Sarita?” He grunted for the third time.
“I’m not going to apologize,” I told him preemptively. “I need my own kitchen, Wyatt. I feel stifled working for you and it’s not even you. What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t want my own kitchen? Besides, I have a problem with authority.” I tilted my head and smirked at him to lighten his cloudy expression.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “That’s an understatement.”
I frowned at his attitude. “I’m sorry if this changes things for you, but I—”
“Yeah, I have to find a new sous chef. I guess there’s Benny, but I don’t know if he wants that much responsibility. And he won’t be half as good as you. I can’t hire fucking Charlie—”
“Dillon.”
He turned to me, pausing mid-rant at my suggestion. “She’s not a permanent solution.”
“But she’d be good enough for right now.”
He rubbed his knuckles over his scruff thoughtfully and I realized we’d gotten way off topic.
“I meant, I’m sorry if this changes things between us. Between our relationship.”
His gaze was laser sharp and totally focused. “What do you mean?”
“Because I could possibly, hopefully, maybe be leaving Lilou for my own gig. I’m saying if I leave, and you know, that changes things for you…”
“Why would that change anything for me?”
“I mean with our relationship.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” he quipped. “I just don’t understand why you’re saying it. Kaya, you could open a kitchen on the moon and I would still want you. Did you not hear when I said that I love you? That we’re a forever thing now? This”—he wiggled a finger back and forth between us—“isn’t contingent on proximity. It’s based on how much I care for you and how important it is to me to spend my life with you. If you leave, and you probably will and should if you want the job, then we’ll make it work. If you don’t get Sarita and find a job across the country. We’ll make that work too. Woman, I love you. And you love me. That’s all that matters.”
I breathed in deeply and it felt like my first big breath of my whole adult life. Collapsing against him, he wrapped his arms around me and I inhaled him. His body was so warm, and this feeling was so right.
“I love you,” I told him, even though he’d said it for me seconds ago.
His confidence was amazing when you compared it to how insecure I could be. Maybe we were matched head to head in the kitchen, but he had me beat in the relationship department by miles. But that was okay. As long as he was strong enough to stick around, I could heal through this. I could get there. I could find my footing once again.
If for no other reason than to keep him from beating me forever. I mean, I loved him, but that didn’t mean our competition was over.
He kissed the top of my head and said, “You’re going to have to up the sexual favors though or the kitchen is going to hate you when you leave. I mean, fine, I can admit that you belong at Sarita and you’ll kick ass there and be a national success in no time. But my staff is going to murder you when they have to deal with me after you’re gone.”
I laughed at his exaggeration. “I can handle the sexual favors part, but I’m worried about your fragile ego when Sarita starts outperforming Lilou.”
His body stiffened, not liking that idea at all. “I’m not worried, Swift. After all, I just grabbed my first James Beard and I’m pretty sure you don’t even have the EC job yet.”
I pinched his nipple and twisted. That was fair at this point, right?
“You didn’t tell me you got the James Beard!”
“Rising Star Chef of the Year.”
“Holy shit, Wyatt! Congratulations!”
“Uhm hmm. You see? You’ve got a way to go before you catch up.”
I pulled back, so he could see me roll my eyes. “You’re making it hard to be happy for you.”
He smiled, and I melted into a pile of sticky, happy goo right there on the bed. r />
“Do you want to go over your menu?” he asked. “When did you say you’re interviewing?”
“Monday.” I thought about his offer. How cool would that be for Wyatt to go over my menu with me? This was one of those reasons that we would make not just a good couple, but a great power couple. But, I couldn’t accept his help. This was something I needed to do totally on my own. I needed to set myself apart from Wyatt and Lilou and sous chef. I needed to show Ezra that I was innovative in my own right and talented without holding the hand of a better chef. I needed to show him I had the guts and grit to take Sarita and turn her into her best version. “And I, uh, I think I got the menu on my own.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you sure?”
I settled back against him and laid my hand over his heart to catch my balance. “Yes, I’m sure. I think he’ll appreciate the menu more if I’m solely in charge.”
“Yeah, okay. I can see that.”
“Thank you though.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Any time.”
Tilting my head back, I caught a close-up version of him. It was beautiful and right and I was so grateful for this man I got to finally call mine. “I love you, Wyatt.”
His lips lingered on mine, kissing me to oblivion. “I love you too, Kaya. I’m looking forward to all the different ways you’re going to drive me wild.”
Assuming that was a challenge, I kissed him this time and didn’t stop until we were sated and exhausted once again. We curled up in each other’s embrace on the bed, surrounded by plates and quiche crumbs and fell asleep. We spent the morning like that and were so enraptured with each other we ended up being late to work for the first time ever.
I was already embarrassed and flustered, but then Wyatt walked into the kitchen and announced to every single one of his staff and my coworkers that we were officially together.
His exact words were, “Kaya and I finally figured our shit out. We’re together now. Deal with it.”
That was approximately the time I burst into humiliated flames and braced myself against lighting the entire kitchen on fire.