“Oh my god, you are positively sappy over there. The West Coast does make you soft.”
“To be fair, I am extremely exhausted and haven’t been eating properly. My brain likely isn’t functioning right.”
“You haven’t been eating properly ?” Julie’s voice quickly escalated to a screech. “London, you know you are on a cooking show, right? God, you really do need me out there.”
London smiled and rubbed their eyes again. It was especially hot today, and their binder was irritating them. They were calling a Lyft as soon as they hung up with Julie. They’d watch a movie while the caffeine wore off, and then maybe take a nap.
“And hey, London?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t give up on Dahlia, okay? Because . . . you shouldn’t give up on yourself, either. And I worry that’s what you’re doing. Sometimes people make mistakes, especially when they’re stressed. But . . . not everyone is like Dad, you know? Most people own up to their mistakes if you give them some time.”
London stopped walking. They stared up at the wide, high branches of a palm tree, wondering if they should make Julie expand on that Dad comment.
“Okay,” they said after a minute.
“I have a meeting in ten minutes, so I should go. But please, call or text me as much as you need to get through the next few days, okay? I love you.”
“Yeah, okay. I love you, too.”
London requested a ride and stuck their phone in their back pocket. They kept staring at the palm tree while they waited, remembering how much Dahlia had liked them. Wondering if things would’ve been okay between them if they had talked about what was going to happen post–Chef’s Special like Julie said.
After the things Dahlia had said Tuesday night, though, it didn’t feel that easy.
In the universe London previously understood, where they truly meant something to each other, Dahlia would have fallen into their arms when they opened the door. She wouldn’t have brought up Lizzie, in any capacity. London would have known what to do, been equipped with the right things to say.
They wouldn’t have broken apart from each other at the first roadblock.
The shadow of the palm’s heavy fronds gave London shelter while they rested, watching for a silver Toyota, ready to escape the unforgiving heat, the harsh brightness of the August sky, and the unanswered questions taking up too much space in their tired mind.
At the end of her third full day back in Maryland, Dahlia realized the last person she had talked to was the cashier at Food Lion two days ago. The apartment was already three-quarters packed. Maybe she’d be ready to drive to Massachusetts as early as this weekend.
And there wasn’t a soul, other than her dad, who knew it was happening.
She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat on her couch. She was exhausted from packing, couldn’t concentrate on any book she cracked open. Only one thing left to do.
With a sigh, she turned on her TV and opened up her DVR.
Chef’s Special: 3 New Episodes
Dahlia prepared her psyche for seeing London.
But the first thing that threw her after she pressed Play, funnily enough, was herself.
It was strange. Dahlia looked at herself every day in the mirror. But she had never seen this much of herself, from a perspective like this. Once the cooking actually started, she looked . . . good. Competent. Strong.
The camera panned behind her to London.
The screen cut away to their introduction in the solo interview set. Dahlia catalogued every detail of their face, highlighted so perfectly by the studio lights: the freckles, the intriguing flecks of rich colors in their hazel eyes. How their smile tilted slightly up to the left.
Her chest ached.
It was fascinating, watching London work, now that she knew them. That first episode, when they had seemed so grumpy to her, she now recognized the tension at the corner of their eyes, in the set of their jaw. They were stressed. She wanted to reach through the screen, across space and time, and retroactively caress that jaw, press a reassuring hand into the small of their back.
London’s stressed face was two shades away from their hyper-focused game face, which Dahlia was delighted to discover when she moved on to the second episode. It prickled at senses that had been asleep since Dahlia had landed in Maryland.
So serious. So talented. But Dahlia knew all the softness hidden underneath. What it felt like to have that game face focused on her.
She wanted to feel their mouth on her skin.
Dahlia blinked, shifting on the couch. She lay on her side and tried to quiet the vivid memories, the heating of her blood.