Page 79 of The Chef

He’s sweet for thanking me, though.

I knew he didn’t have to.

I make eye contact with Cliff and he winks at me, knowing what he’s doing. The cheeky bastard.

It’s still incredibly sweet.

“Now, let me talk about what new menu items we’ve put together for you to sample today,” Cliff says, redirecting all the room’s attention back onto him. “There are a few things I’ll like to go through..."

He’s interrupted by the restaurant's front door opening. Everyone’s attention quickly turns to the person stepping in. The woman walking in is tall, blonde, and very slim. Like a supermodel.

I think I recognize her.

Cliff’s eyes widen as she walks into the crowded restaurant. His face transforms into one of shock.

Something’s wrong. He knows this girl. He’s surprised by her being here.

“I think that’s enough, everyone,” he says hesitatingly, still fixated by the new arrival. He’s cut his speech short. “Why carry on talking when we can eat, drink, and be merry.”

Cliff disappears off the table and into the crowd, and I am left staring at the new beautiful woman who’s just walked in.

I know her.

Ripley gasps and whispers to me, confirming my worst fears. But I don’t need her to tell me who that woman is. Even she’s shocked by this arrival. “That’s her,” she says, breathless. “That’s Cleo Dash.”

Cliff’s ex.

27

CLIFF

Cleo Dash.

She’s here.

She’s come to the restaurant.

It wasn’t a trick of the light, or a hallucination, or anything supernatural. I saw Cleo Dash enter Rockpool just then. I can recognize that face anywhere. The blonde hair. Her angular features. It was her. For sure.

She’s here.

I turn and leave the restaurant out the side emergency exit, faking to some guests eager for a chat that I needed a moment on my own after the speech. I immediately make my way around to the back of the building to the trash area where we keep the restaurant bins for collection, desperate to get away from everyone. Desperate to get away from her.

Cleo Dash is here.

I lean against the wall and recover my breath. My hands are shaking. My breathing is shallow. I’m in a state of shock.

The last time I saw her was in Paris, in that hotel room. And now she’s stepped through into my restaurant on the other side of the world a few months later as if it were the most normal thing to do.

She’s in there, in my restaurant. Somewhere.

I grip my shirt tightly and undo my top button, needing space.

Why would she come? Why would she travel all the way to New Water?

I thought she’d be in America, getting ready to film that superhero series of hers. Why would she fly halfway across the world? Why does she need to see me?

I hear footsteps approaching. I spin around, faking a smile in case it’s one of the guests who’ve stumbled outside.