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“You’re not happy, that’s obvious.” He rushes to the grill and pulls off the bacon with only seconds to spare.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to let it burn. Every penny counts with this restaurant. He can’t afford to throw away food.
“I’m tired. That’s all.” I’m about to walk away again when he holds out a piece of bacon to me.
I reach for it, but he pulls it away.
“Tell me,” he orders.
“Fine.” I glare at him, but he holds out the bacon long enough for me to grab it. I take a bite not caring that it burns the top of my mouth. “It’s hard to pretend to be a couple with Georgia, that’s all. It’s…” I take another bite. “Confusing.”
Seconds pass while Adam examines me. “Why don’t you tell her you’re in love with her?”
“What?… How—we’re just friends.” I’m so surprised by the question, I comethisclose to dropping my hard-earned bacon.
Adam’s left eyebrow slowly creeps up. His eyes don’t leave my face, and a droplet of sweat trickles down my back.
“Don’t you have a fan or something back here? It’s boiling hot.” I loosen my tie and unbutton my collar before moving farther from the grill. But I’m still burning up.
“If you want to be more than friends, you have to tell her.” He turns off all the stove burners and carries the pot of potatoes to the sink.
“Who says I want to be more than friends with her?”
“Your face every time you look at her. Even if I hadn’t known you both my entire life, I’ve been on set with you, remember?” He points to something behind me. “Bring me that colander.”
I pull the metal colander off its hook and set it in the sink so Adam can drain the potatoes. His face disappears behind the steam that pours from the pot, and the potatoes drop into the colander with heavy thuds.
“I can’t tell her. If she doesn’t feel the same, then things will be weird between us. Our friendship will never recover.” By the time I get all the words out, the steam has cleared, and Adam is looking at me.
“What if shedoesfeel the same?” He holds my gaze. This isn’t an offhand question I can blow off. “How will you know if you never say anything?”
My only option is to tell him the truth. “I don’t know if I’m ready to take that risk. I’ve got to make sure this attraction is more than a rebound emotion from Carly and me breaking up, and I need a sign from Georgia that she feels something for me. I can’t risk losing her too.”
Adam pulls the colander from the sink and dumps the potatoes in a giant mixer. “I’ve seen both of you look at each other all goofy-eyed long before you started shooting this show. I’ve just never seen you do it at the same time. Evie’s seen it too. But if you don’t think you can tell Georgia, then maybe you need to show her.”
My brother doesn’t give me a chance to respond or ask for more details, just points to a sauté pan on the stove. “Heat up some of the bacon grease and start braising the meatballs in it while I get these potatoes started, then you can take over the mashing. You’re sous tonight.”
Which means he’s both reached his limit of heart-to-heart talk for the day and “promoted” me to his assistant. He hasn’t had me on sous chef since our falling out over the Dakota stuff. I’m capable of everything the position requires—all of us Thomsens are, thanks to Mom’s training and our years spent working in this kitchen when it was hers. So asking me—or telling, depending on perspective—is the same as saying I’ve earned back his trust. He wants me by his side again.
Not on stage, apparently. But that’s less important to Adam than his kitchen.Thisis where his heart really is, and he only lets a few people in.
Like Bear, who walks in at the same time I put on the blue apron that indicates I’m playing sous tonight. Usually Bear is that person, even before Adam got mad at me. But Bear, being Bear, just smiles and nods when he sees me tying the apron, then slips on the standard black one everyone else wears.
By that point, things pick up in the dining room, and our focus shifts to the dish Adam’s tweaking tonight: Meatballs served over mashed potatoes with lingonberries. It’s a Scandinavian staple that we were raised on but with a twist. Mom and Granny never cooked the meatballs in bacon grease or made them with a mix of ground pork and venison.
But while Adam’s attention is occupied by food and running his restaurant, mine is still on Georgia. There’s not enough commotion in this kitchen—or the entire world, for that matter—to keep my mind off Georgia or the possibility that she might be thinking about me right now too.
I want to think she is. Adam has given me hope that she could be. If so, then all I have to do is figure out how to show her I want us to be more than friends while I’m acting like we already are. I’ve got to convince her that I’m not pretending.
That thought makes me go as cold as I used to when a teacher asked me to read out loud. The task in front of me seems just as impossible as making sense of letters and words used to. But the reward if I do is as important as learning to read was.
It took me until I fell in love with theCaptain Underpantsbooks to realize how much richer my life was with books and stories.
I don’t know what my life will look like if Georgia returns my feelings, but I know it’s already richer knowing that I’m falling in love with her.
Chapter 29
Georgia
