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“Available, because you and Javi would make a good couple.”
My jaw might as well have hit my prep table. Was she really trying to set me up with her son who’s going through a divorce?
Thankfully, my mom came through on her promise to keep the empty nesters in check when they become overly critical of their children. With a tension-breaking joke, she said, “Okay, Linda, let her bake. We’ll take the dowry when Javi’s not still married. But for now, let’s go around the table and say something positive about our offspring, starting with you, Joyce.”
Without missing a beat and still in the posture she adopts when she’s on the brink of saying something negative, Joyce chimed in. “Well, Mike promised he wouldn’t need any money from me, ever. That’s a positive.”
Actually, that wasn’t quite a positive. Nobody can make me appreciate my parents more than Joyce.
Despite the challenges, I still enjoy doing the show with the ladies. They can be a handful, but mostly, they are fun to be around.
Now, back at home and dressed for the graduation, I find myself with some spare time. Naturally, I start scrolling through my “Gina The Baker” Facebook account, where I’ve accumulated six thousand friends and followers who adore my baking. As I browse, my gaze drifts to the search bar. I recall that Head Chef Total Domination, the popular cooking show, has a Facebook page.
It wouldn’t hurt to do a quick check-in, right? I briefly consider this before typing the show’s name into the search bar. A few clicks later, I’m on their page, ready to see what’s new.
But honestly, why does the first post have to be about Randy? As soon as I land on the page, there he is in the photo, his eyebrows drawn together in that intense focus he reserves for cooking. He’s carefully pinching spices into a frying pan. The comments below the photo are predictable: some praise his handsome looks and culinary skills, while others criticize his stern demeanor.
“He’s not nice,” one woman comments bluntly. She’s not entirely off the mark—Randy never pretends to be the friendliest person. But mean? Not exactly. Nitpicky? Definitely. A bit of a sourpuss? Sure. But when he smiles, it’s like the sky splits open to sprinkle us with cherry lollipops.
The same woman also notes the lack of chemistry between Randy and his co-contestant Deanna, adding that she can’t quite picture him having chemistry with anyone. I mean, this lady is extremely negative. It’s obvious that she’s not a happy camper. Yet she seems to be in the minority with her views on Randy and Deanna’s dynamic.
“They’re going to get together after this,” another person boldly asserts, claiming to bet her life on it.
Meanwhile, one guy expresses his frustration with the current season, wishing they would drop all the fluff and return to the straightforward cooking format of past seasons.
Feeling queasy from the comments, I decide to take a break and make myself a lukewarm cup of fresh ginger tea with the ginger I grated earlier this morning. Once settled back at my computer, I decide I’ve had enough of reading the opinions of strangers, so I shift my focus to simply looking at photos of Randy. I miss him so much. Imagining a future without being by his side is daunting.
Deanna is incredibly lucky, and judging from photos of her, very pretty. Although it’s challenging, I’m trying to recognize the positives in their relationship. After all, she knew him first. They were together before he ever met me. This situation has taught me a powerful lesson: sexual chemistry doesn’t necessarily lay the foundation for a lasting relationship, no matter how electric it is. Apparently, successful relationships have that extra something Randy and I could never find together.
I stumble upon a post with a clickbait headline that reads, “Did you see that?” accompanied by the hashtag #BunsOfSteel. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I click to play the video. In it, Deanna walks past Randy and playfully slaps his tight bum. Randy responds with a playful finger wag and a snicker before he continues cooking. As I scroll through the comments, my throat tightens, each word feeling like it’s choking me.
“They’re a cute couple.”
“I wonder how that tush felt against her hand.”
“Do you see the way he looks at her?”
Then I read a comment that snaps me out of my scrolling frenzy. “How is that not sexual harassment?” I realize I’ve been clutching my stomach the entire time. Glancing at the top of the screen, I notice I’m late.
“Oh no!” I jump to my feet. Then I grab my keys and rush out of my apartment, more determined than ever to put emotional and mental distance between Randy and me. Lingering on these feelings just won’t be healthy, especially as we navigate the complexities of co-parenting in the future.
* * *
It’s Friday morning, and I’m relieved that the week is finally winding down. I got to the café early today after hearing that two of our three breakfast cooks were out sick, and Sarah was in a bind. With the flu making the rounds, Calypso Café strictly enforces a policy against coming to work ill. Despite desperately needing every extra minute of sleep, I couldn’t say no when she asked me to help out. After all the support Sarah has given me, stepping in to assist her was the least I could do.
Pulling into the parking lot, I’m taken aback by the scene before me. The café opens in just over an hour, yet Sarah, Rita, and four other staff members are huddled in front of the door.
I quickly pull into the first available parking space and jump out of the car, my curiosity spiking. I hurry over to the group, anxious to find out what’s wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to catch my breath as I approach them.
It doesn’t take long to identify the issue, but Rita confirms it anyway. “The door is chained.”
My jaw drops as we exchange looks of disbelief, all of us seemingly trapped in the same unexpected nightmare.
“Have you spoken to Steve yet?” I ask, my gaze fixed on Sarah, who is busy with her phone.
“I tried reaching him, but he’s not answering,” she explains. Lowering her voice, she adds, “Now I’m calling Jeremy.” Holding the phone to her ear, she waits for him to pick up.
