Oh, my heart.
“Yeah,” I exhale. “My dad has a knack for earning his titles when they aren’t automatically his to begin with.”
“He’s a good man.”
“The best of the best.”
“Snores like a motherfucker though.”
I bark a laugh.
The vibe in the air changes again when Kai lifts a finger to delicately tuck my hair behind my ear. “I want Max to think of me the way you think of him.”
I melt into his touch. “He does. You’re doing such a good job with him. I know you don’t believe that all the time, but you are. And I would know. I’ve got the best dad out there.”
“I’m worried I’m messing him up by having him travel with the team. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I try to pretend I do, but I wish I had the answers on how to do this parenting thing right.”
“I’d assume every parent feels that way in some capacity. You’ve surrounded Max with so much love. The team adores him. My dad adores him. That’s all you could ask for.”
He looks like he wants to kiss me again and God, do I want him to. But then I watch Kai swallow, pull his hands away from mine and flip onto his back once again, tucking them underneath his head.
I mirror his position but with my hands folded in my lap.
“Have you been able to get any of your work done?” he asks.
Wow, quite the subject change. I’ve been blissfully detached from that part of my life for the past two weeks.
“Nothing in the kitchen, but I’ve been plotting some things for when we get home and I can experiment in the van.”
“In the van? You have a kitchen in there?”
“A little one, yes. It gets the job done.”
A beat passes between us. “I looked you up online last week.”
My head whips in his direction, a teasing smile on my lips. “Just last week? I figured you would’ve done that the second I walked out of my dad’s hotel room on that first day.”
“Your food is beautiful, Miller. It’s artwork.”
He holds no humor in his tone, not allowing me to laugh my way out of an uncomfortable compliment.
Pulling my attention away once again, I find the ceiling. “It used to be.”
“What’s different now?”
“I have no idea. Suddenly, one day I couldn’t do the most basic things in the kitchen. Things I’ve been doing since I was a kid. Nothing new has worked.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the James Beard Award you won?”
A smile lifts on one side of my lips as I look at him again. “Kai Rhodes, how much stalking did you do exactly?”
“Just enough to figure out you’re a big fucking deal.”
I shake my head, but he only continues.
“You are. The entire world agrees with me, so you can try to downplay it all you want, but I’m right. Have you always wanted to be this big-shot pastry chef?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But I’ve always found myself striving for the next achievement. To be the best at whatever it is I take on. Whether that be in softball when I was younger, or now in my career. I’ve always chased the checkmarks.”
“Why?”
I exhale a laugh. “God if I know. That’s what we as a society have been conditioned to do, right? Keep striving for the next best thing instead of finding gratitude and peace where we are.”
“Well, now that you’ve taken a break, do you feel any of that at all?”
“Gratitude and peace?” I turn to look at him. “I think I could find a lot of gratitude and peace while in bed with you, Kai Rhodes.”
He bursts a laugh. “You have no fucking filter.”
I smile at him, feeling an overwhelming comfortability to tell him everything. Much in the way he’s never had someone to talk to, neither have I.
“The pressure,” I continue. “It feels heavy. Suffocating, almost. When I first went to culinary school, I had plans to open my own little bakery one day. A place where people could get my cookies or cakes and I’d be able to watch the joy take over their faces when they took that first bite. But once I was in the industry, that goal didn’t seem big or impressive enough. Instead, I went into the high-end world, and now the only people who eat my food anymore are critics or guests who’ve paid a ridiculous amount to do so. I watch people analyze every bite of what I’ve created instead of enjoying it, and if I’m being honest, it’s gotten hard to put the same love into my food without second-guessing everything I do, knowing it’s going to be judged instead of enjoyed.”