This time I don’t laugh because I’m too in my head.
“Mills, come here,” he breathes, taking a single step into the bathroom. He crowds me with his tall body, taking me in a comforting hug, and with a single hand he brackets my cheek, tilting my chin up for his mouth to meet mine.
It’s unexpected but needed as both my body and my nerves melt into his touch.
Kai’s tongue slides against the seam of my lips and I open for him, letting him take control. It’s centering and calming in a way only he is for me.
My favorite thing about this man is how stable, how constant he is. He takes on responsibilities others don’t have the strength to handle, including settling me in this moment. I somehow need to figure out how to steal some of his resilience for myself so I can take it when I go.
Kai finishes with a simple press of his lips against mine before pulling away.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“I’m so impressed by you, Miller. And proud of you.” He chuckles, his forehead falling to mine. “I don’t know if that’s weird to say.”
“Not weird.” I shake my head. “Just what I needed to hear.”
Kai has been adamant about me going back to work, encouraging me to do so, and helping me as best he can. There’s a part of me that wishes he would ask me to stay, to continue whatever we’ve been doing for the last two months, but most of me is glad he hasn’t. It would only hurt him in the long run, to open himself to asking for more because, at the end of the day, I don’t have a choice. I have to go back.
I can sense him about to ask again, wondering what’s wrong with me today, but thankfully, a knock sounds at the bedroom door before he can. “Chef, we’re ready for you.”
We separate as I turn back towards the mirror, sliding my hands over my hair to smooth it down, and Kai comes back into the bathroom holding my chef’s coat, perfectly pressed by one of the shoot assistants.
I haven’t worn that coat in months, and the only reason I feel okay putting it on again is because Kai is the one holding it open behind me, allowing me to slide my arms through.
Through the reflection, he leans on the doorway, watching with a proud smile as I slip each button through their respective holes.
This man has supported me all summer, eager to help me get back to work at the level I want to be. He’s constantly reminded me what a great job I’m doing, which are words I almost forgot existed. There’s no coddling in the restaurant industry, and it’s not something I ever thought I’d need. But after two months with him, I can’t imagine working without Kai’s encouragement constantly filling the kitchen.
When I try to leave the bathroom, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in to place a single kiss on my forehead.
Leaning back, I eye him. “Did you just give me a forehead kiss while I’m wearing my chef’s coat?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ve made grown men cry while wearing this coat.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that, but girl bosses need forehead kisses too.”
“Did you just say girl bosses?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what you kids say?”
That finally pulls a genuine laugh out of me, instantly making me feel lighter, more myself. “I refuse to believe there’s only seven years between us.”
“Come on,” he says, ushering me out of the bathroom. “Go do what you’re best at so we can get these people out of our house.”
Our house.
“And by ‘what you’re best at’ I’m referring to you standing there and looking pretty for pictures. Nothing to do with you being a badass pastry chef.”
With another laugh rumbling in my chest, Kai gives my ass an encouraging tap as he continues down the hall to the living room, leaving me in the kitchen.
“Behind the island, Chef.” Sylvia points to my starting position.
Glass bowls of dry ingredients line the counter as I find my place, standing behind the kitchen island.
“We’ll start with some action shots.” She pushes an empty glass bowl in front of me. “One at a time. Crack an egg in there.”
Sylvia turns to say something to the photographer, but all I can focus on is the living room behind them, where Kai, Isaiah, and Max watch.
Max catches my attention and points at me from behind the lens. “Mmm,” he hums, the only part of my name he’s gotten down. “Mmm!”
He squirms in Isaiah’s hold and slips his way out of his uncle’s arms, racing his way towards the kitchen. Dodging the lighting crew and photographer, he rounds the island.