Page 67 of Accidental Doctor Daddy
He jerked his chin toward the prep station. “Winner’s over there, reorganizing. She’s got ideas about organization, the menu...” His lip curled in a disapproving sneer.
Fucking perfect.
“I’ll handle it,” I said, ignoring the tension in my gut. At least Jean Paul was on my side about Grace.
Sure enough, she was at the far counter, carefully labeling containers of fresh herbs and talking with some line cooks. “Chef,” she greeted me, that confident smirk never leaving her lips. “Welcome back.”
“I see you’re making yourself comfortable around here.”
“Just trying to help,” she replied lightly. “Carrie said if I prove myself, I might stick around.”
My mouth twisted, but I forced a wry grin. “Well, don’t get too comfortable.”
“A girl can dream, right?”
I let out a short, forced laugh, ignoring the spike of stress. “You’ve got shipments to sort. Don’t let me keep you.”
She flashed a grin. “Sure thing,chef.”
I exhaled sharply. My phone buzzed in my pocket—no doubt Dom or the nanny. My hand lurched, for it, almost dropping thething into a pile of fresh basil. I slid it out, seeing only Dom’s text:
How’s day one with the nanny?
Me:So far, so good. No meltdown texts. Just my meltdown.
His reply came quick:
Dom:You’ll be fine. I believe in you.
A faint smile tugged my lips, tension easing. But the day slogged by in a haze of sorting produce, reorganizing the pantry, and triple-checking that Winner didn’t overshadow my authority. Meanwhile, guilt gnawed at me for leaving the twins, even for a few hours.
What if they need me? What if the nanny’s all show and no real care?
But each time I checked my phone, no messages of doom popped up. By midafternoon, I’d gotten so used to hearing the rest of the staff calling Grace by her nickname, I found myself doing the same.
I double-checked inventory with a pencil jammed behind my ear, cursing under my breath when I realized we’d run low on tapioca flour. “Son of a bitch, I told them to keep it stocked. Now we gotta scramble.”
“Everything cool, Chef?” came Winner’s bright voice behind me.
“Fine,” I said sharply. “Just a missing tapioca flour.”
She arched a brow. “Carrie said we can do without it until next shipment. We have alternatives.”
My temper flared at her cavalier tone. “I know how to run my own damn kitchen. Just go handle your station.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
With a surly glare, I returned to my notes. The rest of the staff gave me a wide berth.Good.I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
Finally, the short shift that felt like it had been lifetimes-long came to a close. We’d processed all shipments, the place was tidy, and Carrie called me into her office to debrief. I tried to listen, but my mind drifted to Dom, to the twins, to the nanny, to the big secret I still kept from Dom about Leo.
After a while, I dragged myself out of the restaurant, the city’s evening bustle welcoming me back.
Back at my apartment building, my nerves twisted as I climbed the stairs. Being at Suivante had made me think about how Leo and I met—he had been a part of a large party, all of them drunk or tweaking, celebrating a sale of one of his pieces. He was cocky, and that was all it took for me to give him my number.
What an idiot I was.
But that memory today pressed the need to tell Dom everything. I couldn’t hide this forever, and sooner was better than later for everyone involved.
