Happy Ever After

Chapter 18

Alana was enjoying a lazy bath, just drifting as Norah Jones played in the background. She curled and uncurled her toes, letting the hot water ease the cramping. She could feel the bath salts working and took a sip of the excellent Red she'd confiscated from La Moda's wine cellar.

This morning she'd woken at six when Massimo had called her cell. He was screaming something about buns or guns. It was difficult to make out with her brain still asleep and his accent getting thicker by the minute. Eventually she'd gotten the drift that her replacement had walked out, and could she fill in temporarily? She still didn't know where buns or guns fit into the equation but didn't think it was important just now.

She'd reported for duty at nine a.m. where a grateful Massimo had given her a bone crushing hug before berating her for leaving in the first place.

"You arrogant Tuscan," she'd said. "I gave you plenty of notice and even trained my replacement. It's not my fault he bailed. Your bark will scare anyone."

"But it doesn't scare you, piccolina. I call, you come. That's what a chef does. This," he struggled as if to find the right word and then shrugged deciding words would be too good for him. "Does he come? No. Does he write? No. Send messages by pigeon?"

"I'm guessing no," interrupted Alana. She'd waited for Massimo to finish his tirade and then got down to work. She checked the inventory first and then planned the day's dessert special, along with menu staples. They were running low on some basic ingredients and she added them to the inventory list for Massimo.

By the time prep for lunch had started she'd gotten into the rhythm of the line and it felt like she'd never left at all. She prepared two cakes for lunch, keeping them simple and light. For dinner she'd gone elaborate, hazelnut crème glacée served in a crispy basket with a drizzle of balsamic for kick, and a Dobos Torte since she had Vienna on her mind. It was an elaborate cake with complex layers and intricate assembly. Basket weaving was always hard on the shoulders and she stretched and rotated them several times to get the kinks out. As she finished the last layer of the Dobos Torte she decided she had made the right decision to leave. She couldn't do this every day, more importantly, she didn't want to.

Now more than ten hours later she was soaking her cares away. She examined the hot pink toes peeking above the water and wondered when Matt would return. She had thought she would hear from him, but he'd been radio silent. She'd sent him an email yesterday and received a straightforward response from his EA saying that he wasn't checking emails regularly and would reply when he could. In the time since he'd walked back into her life, she hadn't seen him without his smartphone or his laptop.

He'd promised her friendship and he hadn't lied about that. Before, when they'd first become a couple, she'd tempered what she wanted in case he thought she hadn't wanted him enough. It was different now. They were both adults with busy lives that didn't revolve each other. But they still made time for one another, even when it got insane.

So, it made her wonder just what he was doing that he couldn't be disturbed. Or was it something more than that? When the self-doubts and insecurities threatened to creep in, she brushed them aside. She hadn't done anything. He was just busy. She'd had a busy week, and no one could say she was the most responsive when her back was to the wall either.

The doorbell and accompanying knock made her frown. She had a nice buzz going and was reluctant to leave the tub. Maybe whoever it was would go away. When the bell rang again, she knew they wouldn't be ignored. She quickly dried herself and with deep regret, unplugged the bathtub stopper. Wearing her silk robe, she looked through the peephole and was unbolting the door when she saw Matt standing on the other side, his carry-on on the floor next to him. His tie was askew and his hair disheveled, but to Alana he had never looked better.