HARRY STYLES
The last time I can recall being happy, and I mean truly, inexplicably, "on top of the world", "nothing can bring me down" happy, was when Jane was born. That was a different kind of happiness than landing the dream job of sous chef at L'Éclatant. That was a kind of happiness that happens once in a lifetime and I find myself missing that day often. I miss what it felt like to hear her first cries as she entered the world, and what it felt like to hold her in my arms. She was 50% of my creation and she was the most perfect thing I've ever had a hand in.
I'm not sure anything or anyone will ever be able to top that whole experience, but Lana is doing something to me. Being with her, it's like I'm weightless. I don't feel the stress of the restaurant or the menu resting on my shoulders when I'm listening to her talk, or when I'm kissing her in secret, or when I'm thinking of her and anticipating the next time I'll see her.
Very quickly into my separation from Allison, I realized that I don't feel that pressure and dread I used to feel when it was time to go home at night. No longer do I have to brace myself to either be yelled at or given the silent treatment. No longer do I have to make excuses for why I didn't come home earlier when the truth was never good enough for her. At the start, I felt like a failure for accepting the end of an eight-year relationship rather than progressing into an engagement or marriage, but now I'm beginning to think that this is the best thing that could have happened to me. I'll bet Allison is feeling the same way at this point.
"Chef?"
"What?" I snap my head up with a pair of tweezers pinched between my fingers.
"Sorry, I said it twice," Amy mumbles, holding a yogurt sorbet dessert dish in front of me.
"Sorry, send it," I clear my throat and try to focus on the task at hand, but I also can't stop glancing up at the clock on the wall. In ten more minutes, we'll be closed.
For those next ten minutes, I make two more desserts and watch the second to last table gather their things to leave with wide smiles on their faces. Most of the kitchen is empty at this point, but Zayn is still here and so is Hayden. Typically, we're the last three to leave the restaurant apart from Jeff and Glenne.
"What the hell is with you?" Zayn's smiling. I can hear it even though I haven't seen it yet.
"I don't know what you mean," I answer surprisingly easily with a straight face.
"You've been gone all night," he retorts, and I know he means that in a mental sense. "Where've you been?"
"I've been right here," I shrug.
"No, he's right," Hayden chimes in. "You've been smiling a lot."
Naturally, I start to smile at the mention of it. "No, I haven't."
Zayn raises his brows at me as if he just took a peek inside my brain. "You finally did it?"
"Did what?"
"You fucked the nanny?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Hayden scoffs with both his hands up as if he's surrendering. "Who's the nanny?"
"H has a hot nanny for his daughter," Zayn carelessly explains.
"Both of you shut up," I refuse to confirm nor deny that fact, which I suppose just means I'm confirming it by default. If I didn't think she was hot, I would say that.
"Is it your week with Jane?" Zayn persists. "So she's at the house waiting for you right now?"
I remain silent, but I think my answer comes in the form of me looking over at the dining room. The last couple is finally standing from their chairs to leave, and I feel a wave of relief crash over me. The kitchen is spotless, so there's nothing left to do once Jeff brings the dessert plates back for us to set in the dishwasher.
