Caught Up (Windy City Series Book 3)
Caught Up: Chapter 32

Violet: Today is the big day! This is everything you’ve worked for. Are you excited?

Violet: Also, prepare to hit the ground running when you get back to work next week. Not only is Chef Maven stoked about having you consult at Luna’s, but your Food & Wine interview is scheduled after you’ve settled in for a week there. Oh, and I have a mini virtual food-blog tour set up for that initial week as well.

Violet: Somehow, this break you took has made you even more sought after. Not even I could’ve planned this kind of positive press. We’re all ready for you to be back and see what kind of inspiration you’ve been hit with.

Violet: Miller?

Violet: Why aren’t you answering?

Max is playing outside, trying to catch the bubbles Kai and Isaiah are blowing in his direction. I watch them all together through the glass of the backdoor slider.

“Chef.”

Max smiles up at his dad, his blue eyes squinting with a full-tooth smile.

“Chef.”

He crawls over to where Kai sits, climbing onto his lap as his dad tries to teach him how to blow an exhale against the bubble wand.

“Chef Montgomery.”

Snapping out of it, I turn to replace Sylvia, today’s photoshoot coordinator, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

I clear my throat. “Yes?”

“I was asking where you want the crew to put those?”

She points towards the rack next to the sink where Max’s sippy cups and silicone plate lay to dry.

The kitchen is pristine. Kai was up before Max or I were awake to make sure it was spotless because, of course he did. He’s done everything in his power to help me succeed in going back to work.

The only things left in the kitchen are the dishes Max used for breakfast this morning.

“I um . . .” I look around for a place to put them, but that’s where they belong. Because this is someone’s house, and yes, a toddler lives here.

“Just put them on the floor or something,” Sylvia says, frantically waving her clipboard around. “The photos will all be from the waist up, so they won’t be in the shot.

Her assistant bends at his knees to put the dishes down.

“No! Don’t,” I call out. “I’ll take them.”

I gather them in my hands, awkwardly holding Max’s cups and plate so I can replace a safe spot for them that’s not the floor. But looking around, there’s no free space because the kitchen has been overtaken and turned into a photoshoot set.

Lingering in the opening of the hallway that leads to Kai’s room, I watch as Sylvia and the photographer go over the different shots the magazine is looking for. Three different people work on the lighting. Another assistant preps glass mixing bowls with ingredients for me to appear as if I were working in front of the lens.

The house is chaotic; ten or so people, whom I’ve never met, mill around Kai’s kitchen, working their hardest to make it appear as if we were in a high-end restaurant instead of the house occupied by a single dad and his son.

Nothing feels right. From the moment the first person shoved inside the front door with their equipment, I regretted my decision to do this here. How the hell am I supposed to look at that magazine cover when it releases in the fall, knowing this kitchen holds some of my favorite memories, none of which relate to the life or career that will be featured in the article.

This is the place where Max and I baked cookies together for the first time. Where I fell in love with the basics of baking again. Where Kai and I were so desperate to touch that we literally rode each other’s bodies on the counter.

And now it appears as if it’s never been used before, with blinding bright lights and strangers frantically running around.

As I hold Max’s dishes, my attention slides to the backyard again. The three Rhodes boys have been outside all morning, keeping Max busy and away from the chaos of the house. Compared to the frantic kitchen, outside looks like a whole other world.

My whole other world.

The life I’ve built during my summer hiatus sits on the other side of that glass while I’m immersed back into my regular life. But now that family outside feels like my new normal while this, the chaos of a kitchen that I was so accustomed to before, feels like a space I don’t belong in anymore.

“Chef Montgomery,” a shoot assistant says, and it takes a moment to register that he’s speaking to me. I haven’t been called Chef in so long. It sounds odd when I hear it now.

He quiets his voice. “Can I just say that I am a huge fan of yours?” His eyes are wide and excited. “I’m in culinary school right now, but I volunteered today because I was hoping to meet you. The way you combine contemporary presentation and techniques with an experimental approach to ingredients is . . .” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Inspirational.”

“Thank you . . .”

“Eric.”

“Thank you for that, Eric.”

“No thank you, Chef. I don’t think there’s a person in the industry who isn’t waiting on bated breath for your return to the kitchen.”

God, I’ve been so out of touch with that world these past couple of months, I almost forgot what it was like to be spoken to this way. To be treated as if I were some sort of celebrity.

It doesn’t feel right while I’m holding Max’s things in my hands.

Eric might not be able to think of a single person who isn’t excited for my return, but I can.

Me.

“My name is Miller,” I tell him. “Just call me Miller.”

His brows furrow in confusion, and the poor kid opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. I doubt he’s ever been told by a chef not to call them by their title.

“Eric!” Sylvia calls out, circling her hand as if she were telling him to wrap it up. “Chef Montgomery, we need you ready in ten.”

“I have to get back to work, but it was an honor, Che—Miller.”

I offer him a placating smile and when he moves out of the way, my view of the backyard returns, only this time Kai is looking right back at me from his seat on the grass.

You okay? he mouths.

I shrug because honestly, I have no idea how to answer that. And without saying anything, I turn on my heel and head down the hall to his room.

The same room I now consider mine until I leave.

As of earlier this week, every night is spent here in this bed with Kai. Every rule either of us put into place has since been thrown out the window, other than our expiration date, and each day that passes with my walls down, defenseless, I can sense him seeping in, taking over my every thought, my every action.

Where he is, I want to be, but each passing moment feels as if there were a giant countdown plastered on the wall, constantly reminding us that our time is up soon.

And today . . . today is the biggest reminder yet.

Closing Kai’s door behind me, I place the plate and sippy cups on his mattress, not really knowing where else to put them, but not wanting anyone out there touching Max’s things.

I couldn’t tell you why I’m acting like this. Today is just about taking photos. I still have another few days until I have to be fully back in work mode again, to put on the armor that’s necessary to survive in the restaurant industry.

It just doesn’t seem right to let even a second of that part of my life touch this one.

As I stand in front of the mirror, parting my hair down the middle and brushing it back slick to my scalp, the door opens. And only a few seconds later, Kai overtakes the bathroom doorway behind me, looking at me through the mirror.

“Hi, Mills.”

I secure my hair the way I always wear it in the kitchen, polished and controlled. “Hi.”

Kai keeps his attention on me through the reflection. I watch as his eyes trail my hair that’s in a style he’s never seen. He watches me remove my septum ring and place it on the bathroom counter.

“I look different, I know.”

“Just a little different from the girl who was double fisting beers on an early morning elevator ride.”

My chest rumbles in a silent laugh, thankful he was able to pull one out of me.

“What’s wrong?” Kai asks, because of course he would know something was wrong with me on the inside even when I’m laughing on the outside.

I shake my head to tell him nothing. This man just gave up his entire home to help me. He’s spent so much time and effort supporting me this summer.

“This is wild,” he says. “To see this part of your life. It’s impressive, but also intimidating.”

My eyes flick to him, a smirk on my lips. “You’re intimidated by me, Malakai?”

“I’ve always been intimidated by you. By how free you are. How brave and confident you are in your own skin. So why do you look so unsure out there?”

My smile drops.

It’s a great question. I’ve been confident in my career for years. I’ve worked hard to be the best, so why am I thrown off by a few pictures?

“It doesn’t feel right doing this here,” I tell him honestly.

His face morphs in confusion. “Why?”

Why? Because since leaving at eighteen, I never had a place to call home and while this stay is just as temporary as the others have been, this home feels important to protect.

I spin to face him, gesturing towards the bed. “They were going to put Max’s things on the ground. You and I are constantly washing his dishes, his clothes, and they were going to put them on the ground to get them out of the way. Who does that?”

Kai chuckles. “People who don’t want sippy cups in the background of their cover shot for a magazine that caters to a luxury lifestyle. I don’t know, just a guess.”

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 replace 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.

“Mmm!” Max wobbles towards me, arms in the air for me to hold him.

My smile is the biggest it’s been all morning as I bend down to get him. “Hi, Bug. Come here.”

“No!” Sylvia snaps as I pick him up. “Put him down! You’ll wrinkle your coat!”

I freeze right there in the kitchen, holding Max and staring at this woman in disbelief.

“Put him down.” Sylvia turns away, speaking under her breath. “This is not a place for kids.”

I don’t move, as if hearing those words has stunned me into place. She’s not wrong. The high-end restaurant scene is no place for kids. The hours aren’t conducive, with late nights and busy weekends. And I’m realizing now, that’s exactly why I’ve been off today.

I know the life that’s waiting for me when I return, and even if I wanted to continue a relationship with Kai, to be there for Max in some capacity, I won’t be able to. There won’t be time to.

I’ve had critics and chefs fawning over me. I’ve had their attention, but now the only attention I crave is that of a little boy and his dad, but as soon as I leave Chicago, they’ll go back to their normal lives—ones that I’m not involved in.

“You are wrinkling your coat, Chef.” Sylvia gestures to me, the other hand on her hip.

Certain realizations sinking in have me beyond done with her attitude today.

“Well, that’s what photoshop is for,” I snap, holding Max closer to my body.

“I got him.” Without realizing it, Kai is at my side, pulling his son off me. “We’ll see Miller after she’s done working, okay, Bug?”

Sylvia exhales in exasperation, shaking her head and repositioning the glass bowls.

Eric the intern offers me a pitying smile while the photographer looks at the screen on her camera, smiling at the images she’s shot so far.

Then I replace Kai and Max slipping out the back door to go outside again and my terrible mood is in full force.

Standing in the kitchen, an overwhelming yet terrifying realization sinks in. The possibility I was feeling this way has been there, lingering all summer, but right now it’s as if a blurry fog has lifted and the sun is shining on the truth.

There’s no part of me that wants to be in the kitchen.

I only want to be with them.