Yes, Chef

Chapter 24: The Set-up

~Mads's POV~

When Whitmer called to tell me I was a "goddamn miracle worker that has no right to be quitting the business I was made for," I had no clue what he was going on about. But my ignorance was short lived when he directed me to the article showcasing Chef Benedict Ruschmann's fall and rise from tragedy. He had gone through with the interview with Val and the evidence of how it had gone was laid out in print.

When Whitmer also informed me that Benedict's mandate had been absolved, I didn't know how to respond. I was happy that he no longer had to live under the burden of his past but I was also disappointed. Disappointed that he hadn't even reached out before or after to share the news. And disappointed because we had no excuse to get together anymore. I was also a little irked...maybe. Shouldn't I have had a say in the matter?

Maybe it's better my name isn't tied to his early dismissal. My brother and anyone else who figured out our dual relationship would really have a field day. I guess it's for the better.

Whitmer thought my despondency was because I was worried he wouldn't pay me out. He assured me he would be paying me and then some for the tremendous job I did. He actually said he'd pay me even more if I would give up on my ridiculous plan to start fresh because I was obviously "abandoning my calling." I thanked him for his generosity and told him I didn't want any more of his money. And then I hung up on him.

And called Benedict. Who I also hang up on. As a trained counselor, I know if I've hung up on more people in a single day than I have in the past year that I probably have my own baggage I need to handle. Yet here I am. Avoiding everyone and everything.

Except school, which is proving to be a fine distraction, two whole classes in. On Thursday, I was really hoping to avoid everyone at the gym, even electing to go at a different time, but as luck would have it, I came face to face with Fuller who wouldn't shut up about Chef Bennie and how even more slammed the restaurant has been in the past few days. He did say that Benedict seemed to be keeping to himself and not getting swept up in the fame.

And then I thought I might escape without seeing anyone else only to run into Garrison in the parking lot. He brought up Benedict also. I wanted to pull my hair out by the roots. In trying to get past the strong yearning I had to see him and reconnect, I just kept getting reminded of him.

Garrison did, however, finish by telling me he was looking forward to our dinner out. Thankfully he didn't refer to it as a date but then he told me to dress nice and confirmed that he'd pick me up. I wanted to remind him this was just a dinner between two friends but I didn't. He seems so genuinely excited.

I'm now nervously waiting for him to pick me up and I'm regretting even agreeing to this. It feels wrong. Like I'm leading him on. I know I'm still caught up with Benedict as much as I don't like admitting it. I want desperately to give in to temptation. I know that I didn't do anything wrong or give him any favors but I'm still wary of the impression it might have on others.

My doorbell rings and I stand up straight, brushing my hands down the front of my coral chiffon wrap dress. I slip into my nude heels and head to the door. Garrison is dressed in a suit jacket with a pale blue dress shirt tucked into his trousers. I can tell he is freshly shaven and he smells good, like spicy citrus.

His eyes take me in through his glasses, which he pushes up the bridge of his nose. His lips part and I can tell he likes what he sees. I lean in and kiss his cheek. "Good evening Garrison."

"Madeline. You are breathtaking. Hi. Good evening." He seems nervous.

I gesture at him and then myself. "We clean up pretty nicely, eh?"