“I feel weird telling them I’m getting fake married. We’re not close enough to tell things like that, but it would be wrong to lie and tell them it’s for real. What would I do when we get divorced? Tell them we fell out of love a month later? But I don’t want them to find out online and think I got married and didn’t invite them. And what about the She-Pack and my regulars and the other chefs I know? What about the kids I’ve worked with from the Night High School? I hire interns from there. If they all found out I’d been lying? Or if they all think you dumped me after a month, they’d all try to comfort me.”
Like they had when she’d left Aubrey. She should have taken advantage of all those invitations to dinner and coffee and double dates and meditation classes instead of just hiding away.
“They’ll send me links to empowerment webinars.” Sullivan put her head on the table in mock despair.
To her surprise, she felt Kia’s hand ruffle her hair and then Kia’s fingers glide closer to her scalp, massaging the back of her head. Her touch was luxurious. Sullivan never wanted her to stop. Could she just stay like this forever?
“I’m sorry,” Kia said. “That’s a lot to think about. It’s easy for me, I’ve got five people in my life.”
“You’ve got followers,” Sullivan mumbled into the bliss of Kia’s touch.
“They used to count. I used to have real conversations online with some of them. Now Deja does most of my replies. Now Fizz Bang pays me five thousand dollars for every recipe I write that features their soda.”
Kia sounded so sad, Sullivan tore herself away from the best feeling she’d had in ages and sat up so that she could look at her.
“That sounds really hard.”
“I just want to be me, to be real,” Kia said.
“And this is even less real than usual.”
“Yeah.”
Sullivan wanted to take Kia’s hand, but she didn’t. Kia had touched her and if she touched her back… that would change something, and Sullivan didn’t know what, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to happen.
“If we pour a can of Fizz Bang soda over the wedding cake, will they give us ten thousand dollars? Because I need a new walk-in freezer.”
“After everything I’ve put you through, wife,” Kia said, hersmile returning, “I will buy you a whole new kitchen.”
“You could afford it, couldn’t you?”
“If I wasn’t sinking my money into Taste the Love Land, I totally could. But even so, I’ll find a way.” Kia sounded both deflated and defiant. Before Sullivan could find something sympathetic to say, Kia said, “I got it. We’ll do an engagement scene. I’ll surprise you by asking you to marry me. Then we’ll kind of skip over the whole getting married part. And find a different occasion to make a Pop Rocks piñata cake.”
She winked at Sullivan, a gesture so cheeky and cute, Sullivan could have kissed her.
“Then if your family sees it or your customers, you can tell them we were never serious.” Did a shadow flit across Kia’s smiling face? “Tell them we went out for a hot second, and it wasn’t for real, but you got tons of free press for Mirepoix. And I—” Kia shrugged.
“Just did it for the engagement?”
“Ha!” Kia slapped the table.
“What?”
“Your family’s got nothing on you.”
It took Sullivan a second to catch on. Then she laughed and pretended to polish her nails on the shoulder of her jacket.
“I’m pretty good, aren’t I?”
“Alice Sullivan, you are very good. That’s why I married you.”
“I suppose,” Sullivan said slowly. “We should have some rules about… you know. Consent-type stuff. I’m okay with holding hands, arm around your shoulders, kiss on the hand.”
“You really are old-fashioned.” Kia gestured toward the tweed sports coat Sullivan had put on when they left for the restaurant.
Sullivan closed in on herself, like she wanted to hide the jacket or defend it.
“Come on, Chef. Your fashion is dope as fuck. It always has been.”
