Month of Sundays (27 page)

“Yes, chef,” each staff member said when she was done.

The day was long and hectic but went smoothly. At the end of the night, Griffin and Erica commiserated over snifters of brandy.

Griffin raised her glass. “Nice work, chef.”

Erica beamed, her chest puffing with pride at the compliment. “This was the best day of my career.”

“Mine, too. Watching you work today was amazing. You were patient with your staff, confident in yourself, and solid in your decision-making. Three things a head chef needs to be.”

“You’re just saying that to humor me.”

“No, I’m not. Great work tonight.” Griffin held out her hand for a fist bump. She took another sip of brandy after Erica met her hand with her own. “Whatever happened with you and Theresa Testi?”

“Which one?”

“The one who needed a private cooking lesson in our kitchen.”

“Oh, you mean Caroline. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. I might have given her a cooking lesson, but she’s definitely taught me a thing or two outside the kitchen, that’s for sure.” Erica sipped her drink and slowly lowered the glass to the table. “With so many women out there, I didn’t think I could limit myself to one.”

“What happened to change that? Oh, let me guess. Caroline.”

“She had a great deal to do with it, yes, but I had to make the change. I had to stop listening to the voice in my head that said it wanted more. I sabotaged every relationship I had that showed promise because I didn’t think I could sustain it. I had my wobbles with this relationship, too, until I realized Caroline is who I want. She’s the one I want to be with. I have everything I want and I have it with one person. What else could I ask for?” Erica sighed in contentment. “I’m in a good place right now. I have a job I love and a woman who loves me despite my many faults.”

Erica’s levelheadedness continued to blow her away. She was incredibly talented and wise beyond her years. Could she really be only twenty-four? The thought made Griffin feel old—but honored to have been able to serve as her mentor.

“I don’t have anything else to teach you, grasshopper. You’re ready. All you need is for me to get out of your way.”

Rachel’s doorbell rang a little after midnight, waking her from a fitful sleep. She yawned and rubbed her gritty eyes as she padded to the door. She squinted to peer through the peephole. Seeing Griffin’s face cleared the cobwebs. Griffin usually looked euphoric after work, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she relived the events of the evening. Tonight, though, she looked exhausted.

“I know it’s late, but I had to see you,” Griffin said after Rachel opened the door. She kept her voice low, most likely out of respect for the neighbors and the lateness of the hour. “I’ve had a long day and I need to feel your skin against mine.”

When Griffin reached for her, Rachel held out a hand to keep her at bay.

“No.” Rachel’s body screamed in protest, crying out for the pleasure Griffin’s touch never failed to deliver.

Griffin seemed almost shocked by Rachel’s refusal. “Why not?”

“Because if you come inside, we’ll end up in bed and we can’t sleep together again until we figure things out.”

“What’s there to figure out?” Griffin’s weary smile seemed to eradicate her fatigue. “I already know where the noses go. And everything else for that matter. I need you.”

“And I need to know where I stand with you.” Rachel felt exposed having such a personal conversation in the hall. She pulled Griffin into the foyer and closed the door.

“Is this because of the show?”

“Yes and no.”

“I figured as much. When I signed up for the show, we barely knew each other.”

“And when you left to film it? What were we then?”

“I wanted to tell you about it, but I wasn’t allowed to.” Griffin’s response seemed designed to absolve her of blame but didn’t answer the question at hand.

“I know. I’ve seen enough reality TV to know how these things work. Contestants go off for some predetermined period of time and make up some lame excuse for the people they’ve left behind.”

“If you know that, then what’s the problem?”

“Who am I to you? Am I a placeholder—someone you’re having a few laughs with until the real thing comes along—or do I mean something to you?”

Griffin opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I want to be more than comfort food you turn to when you’ve had a bad day,” Rachel said. “I could use another metaphor, but it would involve you leaving money on the nightstand at the end of the night.”

Griffin looked hurt. “Is that what you think you are to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you. Every time I broach the subject, you steer the conversation in a different direction or you tell me we’ll talk about it later. I don’t want to talk about it later. I want to talk about it now. I’ll go first.”

She backed Griffin against the wall and pressed her hands against it, penning her in. Griffin stood with her hands on her hips like a misbehaving teenager about to be given an unwanted lecture from an authority figure.

“I love having sex with you, but sex shouldn’t be the only thing keeping us together. I want this.” Her right hand settled into the apex of Griffin’s thighs. Griffin pressed against her palm. “But I want this, too.” She slid her hand up Griffin’s body until it came to rest over her heart. “I can’t ask for it. You have to give it to me.”

Griffin put her hands on Rachel’s waist and pulled her closer. “I’ve been seeing you and only you for months. What else do I have to do to prove I’m interested in you?”

“Make me feel like we’re the only ones in this relationship.”

“Aggie was a one-night stand that ended almost before it began.”

“And Veronica?”

“Is a part of my past I don’t care to revisit. There isn’t anyone else and hasn’t been for a while.”

“You barely have time for one woman, let alone two. There isn’t some
one
else in your life. There’s some
thing
. There are three components in this relationship: me, you, and your career. Your career always comes first.”

Griffin released her hold and resumed her previous stance. “What do you want me to do, quit my job? Change professions?”

“Of course not. Cooking is your life. Asking you to do anything else would be like asking you to stop breathing.”

Rachel released her from her makeshift holding cell. Griffin bolted for freedom. She paced around the room like a caged tiger looking for an escape route. “I want to feel like I matter more to you than I do. I want to spend more time with you.”

“I understand that, but I don’t have any time to give. Even if I gave Erica more of my hours at the restaurant, I still have to be available to publicize the show on the Web, in print, and on the air. I’m under so much pressure right now it feels like my head’s about to explode. Everyone wants something from me. The producers want me to maintain the confidentiality of the show, which won’t be easy considering everyone I know will be constantly grilling me about the results. I have to maintain the quality at Match even though I have less time to keep track of everything. My brothers want me to move back to Newport Beach because they don’t want anyone other than family to take on a role as important as head chef. And now there’s you.”

Rachel tried to slow her racing heart. Why did the first fight always feel like the last?

“You knew what my career was like when we met,” Griffin said. “Why is it a problem for you now?”

“Wait. Slow down.” Rachel held Griffin by her shoulders. She could feel the nervous energy flowing off her in waves. “I’m not asking you to propose marriage, but I’m falling in love with you, Griffin, and I need to know if I mean something to you.”

“I think that’s kind of obvious, don’t you?”

Griffin swiped at her face, flicking away tears. Rachel had never seen her more in need of comfort. She pulled Griffin into her arms.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Griffin’s arms circled her and latched on tight.

“You’re the most stable thing in my life right now,” Griffin said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me, but we have lost our way. We began a journey five months ago. We were going great for a while, but we seem to have taken an unplanned detour.” She held Griffin at arm’s length. “Let’s get back on course.”

“How?”

Rachel took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

“You can start by being here when I wake up in the morning.”

On Friday, July 20, Rachel skipped her traditional lunchtime trip to the gym and headed to the hospital instead. Colleen’s obstetrician had decided to forego a natural delivery in favor of a C-section. At 8:07 a.m., Steven Lambert-Mangano was born. Jane had sent her a text two minutes later. The photos started coming shortly after and hadn’t stopped.

When she walked into the hospital lobby, Griffin was waiting for her.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“You didn’t think I’d miss out on you holding your godson for the first time, did you?”

Rachel smiled. Since Griffin turned up on her doorstep a few weeks ago, she had been like a different person. Doting, attentive, and always there whenever Rachel needed her. They didn’t feel like lunch mates now. They felt like a couple.

Griffin had a stuffed doll that looked like the Swedish Chef from
The Muppets Show
fame tucked under her arm. Rachel, in contrast, was empty-handed.

“I was in such a hurry when I left the office I forgot to pick up a gift,” Rachel said as they raced each other up the stairs.

“It’s okay. We can tell them it’s from both of us.”

They joined the crowd of well-wishers in Colleen’s room. Colleen’s and Jane’s parents and siblings as well as their friends and co-workers were taking turns holding the new addition to their extended family. Rachel joined the long line. Griffin congratulated Jane, took a peek at the baby, and pulled up a chair next to Colleen’s bed.

“Don’t you want to hold him?” Rachel asked when she finally got her hands on the red-haired bundle of joy. Perhaps holding Steven would change Griffin’s mind about having one of her own. Looking at his cherubic face could melt the hardest heart.

“No, I’m good. The baby always attracts the most attention in these scenarios. Mom here is the real rock star.”

Colleen laughed. “That’s funny coming from the actual celebrity in our midst. Jane and I watch you on
Cream of the Crop
every week. We’re rooting for you, but Veronica’s going to be tough to beat. She and James seem really full of themselves, though. Please tell me neither one of them has a chance to win the whole thing.”

“You’ll have to keep watching to see if they make it that far.”

Rachel gave Griffin a supportive smile. Griffin had been bombarded with questions similar to Colleen’s for nearly a month.
Cream of the Crop
had been airing for three weeks. Griffin seemed to be handling the extra attention well, but Rachel knew how much of a toll the show was taking on her. When she wasn’t making personal appearances to sign autographs, pose for pictures, or press the flesh, she was doing Web chats after each episode or blogging for
USA Today
.

They had watched the first episode at Match because Kathleen and Ava insisted on having a viewing party, but they had watched the subsequent episodes alone. Griffin squirmed each time she saw herself on screen. Rachel rooted her on during each challenge, even though the contests were completed weeks ago.

Rachel loved the behind-the-scenes details Griffin provided as each episode aired. It was like watching a movie with the director and actors providing commentary. She had often wondered what Griffin was up to during the three weeks she was away. Now, week by week, she was discovering what had once been secret.

She handed the baby to Colleen. “He’s adorable, Coll.”

Colleen looked beatific as she gazed at her sleeping son. “Maybe next year it will be your turn.”

“Maybe.” Rachel felt a pang of sadness. Griffin, as much as she loved her nieces, was content being an aunt and had no desire to change the moniker to Mom. “But if it never happens, it’ll be okay as long as I get to spoil this little guy rotten.”

“You can start,” Jane said, “by offering to pay for his college education.”

“Thanks, but no. I’ll settle for buying him every toy in FAO Schwarz.”

“That could be just as expensive.”

“But a lot more fun.”

On Sunday, Rachel and Griffin were supposed to have a breakfast of chicken apple sausage and blueberry pancakes as they visited Vermont, but they decided to backtrack and make up the legs they had missed while Griffin was away. They slept in and journeyed to Georgia at brunch by dining on shrimp and grits followed by a decadent dessert of bread pudding topped with praline ice cream. They spent the rest of the afternoon working off the calories.

That night, they settled in front of the TV to watch the fourth episode of
Cream of the Crop
. Griffin guaranteed the elimination challenge in tonight’s episode would be a tough one. She wasn’t wrong. Each of the remaining contestants was tasked with creating a dish that was like a
trompe l’oeil
painting—one that fooled the eye as well as the palate.