Page 21 of Neap & Spring

I take a breath and square my shoulders.

And I follow him into the kitchen.

The space is alive.

That’s the first thing I notice when we push through the doors. The heat and the noise and the massive amount of energy of it. Pans are sizzling on burners. The rhythmic sound of a knife hitting a cutting board fills the room. Someone is calling out about oven temps. It smells like butter and garlic and the ocean, and for a second I forget where I am.

For a second, I’m back in Paris, exhausted and exhilarated, working next to Callum at the station we shared. The two of us moving in sync, anticipating each other’s movements. Him laughing when I’d burn something and blame it on the temperamental ovens.

Then the moment breaks, and I’m here now, and Callum is across the kitchen not looking at me.

I step farther inside, staying close to the wall and out of the way. The tile is slightly slippery under my heels, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

Callum doesn’t look at me at all. He just stops in the middle of the kitchen and raises his voice slightly. “Everyone, listen up.”

The kitchen staff goes silent, but the background noise continues — someone’s timer still beeping, water still running in the dish pit. Everyone turns to face us, expressions filled with curiosity.

“This is Vivienne Lane,” Callum says, and his voice is flat and professional in the absolute worst way. “She’s the consultant the investors hired. She used to be a chef. But now she’s here to tell us how to run a restaurant.”

The jab lands exactly where he intended it to.

I feel my face flush, heat crawling up my neck. But I keep my expression neutral and as professional as I can. I shift my weight, adjusting my hold on the iPad, and take a small step forward.

“Hi, everyone. I’m here to help,” I say, meeting the eyes of the staff members watching us. My voice is steadier than I feel. “I know change can be uncomfortable, but my goal is to work with you, not against you. I want to understand what’s working and what’s not and how we can make Neap & Spring even better.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then a voice from the back cuts through. “Even better? We’re already pretty fucking great if you ask me.”

I look over and see blond wild hair. He’s grinning, unbothered by the tension radiating off Callum like heat from a stove. He’s wiping his hands on a towel as he walks toward me, and there’s an easy confidence in the way he moves.

“Roman,” Callum says with a warning in his voice.

“What? We are.” Roman extends a hand to me. “Roman Delgado. Sous chef. Also the best looking person in this kitchen, but don’t tell Chef I said that.”

I shake his hand, and his grip is firm. My hands have stopped shaking now, or at least if they are, Roman doesn’t seem to notice. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is definitely mine.” His grin widens. “So you used to be a chef? Where’d you cook?”

“Oh, uh, a few places. I went to school at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, then —”

“Paris,” Roman interrupts, his eyes lighting up. “Wait — Le Cordon Bleu?”

My stomach drops, and I can feel the blood draining from my face. “Yes.”

“Chef went there too!” Roman glances at Callum, who has gone very, very still. “Small world. You two know each other?”

The silence that follows is excruciating.

I can feel everyone’s attention shift to us. To Callum and me. I want to step back and put more distance between us, but my feet won’t move

“We were in the same program,” I say carefully. “A long time ago.”

“Huh. Real small world,” Roman repeats, but now there’s an edge to it. He’s not stupid. He can feel the tension.

Callum’s jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Roman, don’t you have fennel to finish?”

“Already done. I’m a prodigy, remember?” Roman turns back to me, and the easy charm returns, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes. “So, Vivienne. That’s a beautiful name, by the way. Very elegant. It matches the person.”