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“Because what I tell you might change how you feel about me, and I don’t want to trick you into saying anything you might regret later.”
I take a deep breath as quietly and as slowly as I can, then let it out just as quiet, and just as slow.
“I’ve told you a few times that I left Chicago, but I’ve never told you why.” He pauses, and I get the feeling he’s trying to muster up the courage to tell me.
But when he finally speaks again, I’m not ready for what he says.
“I left Chicago because I got fired,” he tells me, stopping again and taking a breath. “I got fired for sleeping with my boss’s wife.”
Chapter Twenty
WES
The shock of what I’ve just told her ripples through her body.
Eyes wide, she seems to be trying to process what I’ve said.
I just hope she’ll give me a chance to explain. To give her a true picture of what happened. But I also understand if what I’ve said is enough. If she doesn’t need to hear anything else from me.
Because something like what I’ve done can be a deal-breaker. Even though I technically wasn’t a cheater, I still did something with serious moral implications. And with the things Murphy has shared with me about her time in LA, it makes me think she might not be able to brush this off.
Which is why I’m talking to her about it now.
“Can I tell you what happened?” I ask after a bit of time has passed and she still hasn’t responded.
I can understand why she might say no. I doubt she wants to hear about an affair I had with someone else, let alone a married someone else.
So when she takes a deep breath and gives me a quiet, “Okay,” I feel grateful. What I don’t expect is for her to reach over and put a hand on my forearm.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure that you’ll feel better once you talk about it.”
Her words are so kind, but I can’t help the humorless laugh that bubbles up from my chest. Because the truth is that I’m not so sure I agree. It’s very possible that sharing this with Murphy will ruin that wide-eyed way she looks at me, and in that case, I will definitely not feel better.
I clear my throat, and then jump in, knowing that if I don’t just rip off the Band-Aid, I might never get it out.
“I spent years working for my mentor at an incredible restaurant in San Francisco,” I tell her, wanting to make sure she understands where I was coming from. “All the things that Chef Hines preached about food are the things I’m bringing to my chef work here. The farm-to-table, community-oriented cooking.”
Chef Hines was a wonderful mentor during the most important and formative time of my career, and he is a huge factor in the kind of chef I aspire to be. I only wish that I hadn’t let him down in such a major way.
“But the beginning years in a culinary career are not incredibly lucrative. It’s generally accepted that you’ll be broke for years before you really feel comfortable, unless you make smart choices early on. So when I garnered some interest from a couple who were restaurateurs, I jumped at the chance to work for them. The salary was something I’d only ever dreamed of, and it was the kind of thing where I thought I could have the job, live comfortably, and pay for my brother to go to college so he didn’t have to struggle like I did. So I picked up my meager little life and moved to Chicago.”
I run a hand through my hair, sure that I’ve mussed it enough to leave things looking messy and neglected. It’s an accurate representation for how things feel inside my chest as well.
“I was the head chef for a restaurant they’d just opened. But after the first year, they offered me a chance to partner with them on other projects, so before long I was helping them open several others. It was a fast-paced thing, and instead of being paid more, we discussed partnership opportunities for ownership, which felt like a huge move for me.”
I pause, realizing this is where my story changes. That from here on out, there’s no going back.
“We talked before about restaurant culture, how wild and toxic it can be and how everyone sleeps with everyone.”
Murphy nods.
“Well, I guess it’s not just restaurant staff, it’s management, too. Everybody knew that the couple, the Santiagos, had an open marriage. Alejandro and Bridget both slept around—servers, staff, kitchen crew, guests, it didn’t matter. Nobody was off-limits. And a guy from one of the spots I helped open told me that he hooked up with Bridget and got a bonus in his next paycheck. So when Bridget began flirting with me …”
I trail off, the shame I feel weighing heavy in my gut.
“It was only a few times, and it wasn’t a hardship or anything. She was beautiful and funny and it felt like a normal interaction. A normal hookup.”
I swallow thickly.