I feel a lightness I haven’t experienced since finding Adam with that woman. It’s not happiness exactly. I’m still too raw for that. But something adjacent to it. A reminder that even as some doors close, others stand open. That some decisions aren’t as final as they feel.
I don’t know where I’m going to live yet or how it will feel not to have Adam as a fixture in my life. I don’t know how my heart will heal or what scars I’ll carry from this.
But right now, I don’t have to stress about it.
I can just be in the moment as I said I wanted to do. Vegas glitters around us, a city of second chances and new beginnings. And for the first time since I saw Adam with that woman, I’m excited to believe that both are possible.
9
ROMAN
The kitchen of Decision pulses with a controlled frenzy that sets me right at home. I move between stations, tasting, adjusting, nodding approval as Leaf oversees and executes each dish with the focus and detail I’ve demanded. Tonight is the soft opening, which is essentially for press, critics, and VIPs. Despite having done this dance dozens of times before, the high never gets old.
This restaurant is different somehow. It’s the distillation of everything I’ve learned and everything I’ve become. It’s Vegas. A place where there’s no shortage of dining excellence, so this restaurant, this opening, it has to be everything. It has to be the best in town. Europe will be Europe, and I’m excited for that, but there’s just something about Vegas.
I straighten my jacket and catch the healing cut beneath my eye in the ornamental mirror in the corner. It’s faint now, barely noticeable. It makes me smirk and my fists buzz. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, expecting it to be Braelyn but finding it to be my parents instead.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hi!” my mother chirps. “Happy soft opening.”
I smile and laugh lightly. “Thank you. Where are you?”
“Budapest,” my father answers. “Otherwise, we’d be there.”
“It’s fine.” They were all over me about changing their plans, but that seemed ridiculous. It’s not my first restaurant opening, and it won’t be my last. My parents and I have a good yet strained relationship, and I know that’s my fault. Their favorite son is dead because of me, and I watched them fall apart when he died. I watched their agony and devastation, and it made mine that much worse.
“We miss you,” my mom says, and I rub the back of my neck that’s suddenly prickling.
“I miss you,” I tell them. “How are the concerts going?”
“Fabulous. They’re a lot of fun, and your father is eating his way from country to country.”
“Hey, I haven’t had a break from the OR in how many years?”
I smile, happy to hear them like this. “Then I’m glad you’re finally doing it.”
“We get home right before you leave,” my mother states, sadness in her voice. “I hate that you’re moving, Roman.”
“It’s only for a year and a half. It’ll give you another excuse to go to Europe.”
“True,” my father agrees.
“How’s Braelyn?” my mother asks. “We spoke to her parents the other night. Poor girl. Is she holding up okay? She must be so heartbroken.”
“She’s okay. She’s tough. I brought her to Vegas with me, and she’ll come to Mexico too.”
“Good. That’s wonderful. She needs her friends right now.”
Bitterness hits me, but I brush it away.
“Chef, the first guests are arriving.” Lydia appears at my elbow, her iPad in her hand, her normally unflappable demeanor charged with electricity.
“I gotta go,” I tell my parents. “It’s showtime.”
“Break a leg. You’re amazing,” my mom asserts.
“Have an incredible night,” my father follows that up. “We love you.”