Newer chefs shyly inch up to him and ask for his advice, and a few women boldly ask if he’s single. He always says no and directs their attention to me, but I wish he didn’t, because it makes me nervous to walk to the bathroom alone the rest of the evening.

After an hour and a half, I wish I could take Ryan up on his thirty-minute suggestion. I miss him even though I’ve been sitting across from him all night. Actually, no. I haven’t been sitting across from him all night. I’ve been sitting across from Ryan Henderson, the famous chef. I’m coming to realize there’s a big difference.

It’s not that Ryan is offensive in this state. In fact, if I were a random girl sitting at one of these tables, I’d be drooling too. It’s just that he’s more…refined. Serious. Poised. He wears his fame well, and for some reason, that unnerves me. He looks comfortable here under all the scrutiny. Almost like it’s where he belongs.

More than once, I catch myself watching him while he talks to someone important and wondering how he’s going to give all this up.

Is it terrible that I’m relieved he will give it up? That this sort of schmoozing won’t be a regular occurrence for us? Ryan looks beautiful and stoic and severe in this chef mask he wears, but I miss the Ryan with a teasing glint in his eye.

He tells me he wants to go congratulate David before we leave, and while he’s gone, I take my cloth napkin and fold it into a teeny-tiny square. I fold to keep myself from focusing on how adrift I feel in the center of this restaurant, among all the people wondering how I got so lucky to be Ryan’s date tonight.

I’m so focused on trying to turn my napkin into a swan that I almost don’t notice when Ryan’s seat gets taken. I look up into jet-black eyes. “So, June, right?” says the man I met earlier named Noah.

I nod and tuck my napkin into my lap. “Yep. And you’re Noah.”

He smiles and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, making himself comfortable, and me the exact opposite. “You know, earlier today, when Ryan came to look at the restaurant, I was confused about why he’d turn down the job.” Ah, so that’s who this guy is. “But now, looking at you, I can see it all perfectly.”

His words pinch me. “Oh?” I glance toward the kitchen and wish Ryan would come back out.

Noah gestures toward my face and down my body. “You’re gorgeous. And he’s clearly crazy about you. Those are the only two things in life that can persuade a man like Ryan to give up all his dreams.” Give up all his dreams. I look away from Noah, wishing I could turn away from his words just as easily.

Come back out, Ryan.

“It was all his decision. He said it wasn’t a good fit for him.” My voice sounds quiet.

Noah makes a scoffing, guttural noise from somewhere in his throat and leans back in his seat. “Well, of course he did. Good men like Ryan will give up everything for the women they care about. But what happens in five years when all those tingly little sparks fade?” I see what he’s doing. I’m not going to let his words affect me. I’m not. “Eh, but don’t mind me. I’m just bitter because he turned me down. This restaurant was going to be huge for both of us. An epic career changer. But that’s okay. I wish you guys the best of luck. Better than my luck, at least.”

I must give him some hint that I’m curious about his meaning, because as he’s standing from the table and adjusting his tie, he says, “I was married once to a woman I loved. But those sparks faded, and now, I regret waiting so long to launch my career. I hope that doesn’t happen for you and Ryan.”

Noah leaves the table, and when he’s gone, I pick up my napkin again and fold, fold, fold. My hands are trembling. Where is Ryan? I feel lightheaded. Come on, Ryan. I look toward the kitchen door again and will it to open. It doesn’t, and my whole body is shaking with energy now that I can’t contain. I bounce my knee to keep myself from doing something more drastic, but I feel the need to run bubbling through my veins.

I hate that weasel, Noah. He’s sleazy, and I’m not oblivious to it. But I also feel the truth in his words. Ryan is giving up too much for me. He’s going to regret it. When we fight, he’ll bring it up. If my company thrives, he’ll resent it.

I can’t do that to him. To me.

Before I fully realize it, I’m standing from the table and rushing toward the exit.

Chapter 30 Ryan

I come back from the kitchen and find June’s seat empty. Thinking she must be in the bathroom; I sit down and order another drink. People have been coming to the table all night, and now is no exception. I’m forced to smile and talk with a few people, but with every minute that goes by without June returning to the table, a sense of foreboding builds.

Finally getting a break in conversation, I text June to make sure she’s okay. I’m half expecting a text saying she’s sick, because of how long she’s been in there. Five more minutes pass and still no response.

Enough is enough.

I make my way to the women’s restroom and crack the door open. “June. You okay in here?” It feels uncomfortable calling out in a bathroom like this, but what else am I supposed to do?

“Uh, no one else is in here but me,” says a lady who is definitely not June.

I let the door close, feeling even more concerned now. If June is not in the bathroom, where is she?

As I’m turning a circle in the hallway and scraping my hand through my hair, Noah comes out of the men’s bathroom. “Why are you hovering outside of the ladies’ room?” he asks, smirking in a way I don’t appreciate.

“I thought June was in there.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, she left, like, thirty minutes ago. I assumed there was some sort of emergency with how quick she was moving out the door in those heels.”

“What?” My voice is so stern the walls rattle.

Noah’s head kicks back, and he steps away, accurately interpreting my mood. “Calm down, man. I’m sure she’s fine. Come sit with me and Gazel and have another drink. Maybe I can get her to convince you to take the position at Bask.”

I’m not interested in a drink.

“What did you say to June?” I say, grabbing Noah by the front of his shirt and backing him up against the wall.

“N-nothing!”

“Not buying it. I know you talked to her. Tell me what you said.” I put a little more pressure against his chest.

“It was nothing. I just told her that I thought you were making a mistake by passing up the job. Because you are!”

I shove Noah while releasing his shirt and stepping away. I start to walk away but then turn back and point. “Did you imply that she was getting in the way of me taking the job?”

His eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs over the top of his dress shirt, telling me everything I need to know.

What I want to do is ram Noah into the wall and make him physically pay for meddling in my life, but June is more important than vengeance right now, so instead, I make my way to the front door at a clip that is sure to garner some whispers.

Before I leave, the hostess stops me. “Sir,” she says, sounding awkward. I turn around. “You’re Mr. Ryan Henderson, right?” I nod, and a new dread fills my chest. “Here. The lady you were with left this for you. She asked me to make sure you got it when you were ready to leave.”

I take the note and nod with a polite smile to put her at ease, because it’s not her fault that I’m dateless right now. Once I’m outside and away from prying eyes, I open the letter.

I’m sorry, Ryan. I had to go. You can’t give up your dreams for me. I won’t let you. By the time you read this, I’ll already be on my way to the airport.

Please don’t follow me. It’s easier if we just cut things off like this.

I have loved every second of our time together and wish you the best in life.

June

I crumple the paper and jog to my truck. After checking on my phone for flights out of Chicago to Charleston, I learn that the last one takes off in half an hour. There’s no way I’ll make that in time, but I’ve got to try.

The whole drive to the airport, my anger simmers—torn between hurt and disappointment. I thought we had a good thing going. I thought June and I were finally on the same page, and she trusted me. It’s disheartening that one conversation with Noah shook her so fully. But then again, maybe it’s my fault. I didn’t expound on my decision enough. Tell her my plans. Tell her that I’ve been unhappy for a long time, even before she made it clear for me what my next step in life should be.

I don’t know. These thoughts all race through my head during the drive that feels like a lifetime. When I finally put my truck in park at the airport, I jump out and sprint toward the main entrance. I could probably just wait until June makes it back to Charleston and talk with her over the phone, but I don’t want to. I’m scared to let too much time pass between us.

My dress shoes are clicking over the sidewalk as I’m running toward the entrance, and all I can think of is how much I look like a bad romantic cliché of a groom chasing after his bride who split before the ceremony. I’m not the only one thinking it. Everyone I pass gives me some major side-eye and pitying glances. I should have left my suit jacket in the truck.

I make it to the main sliding doors of the airport and freeze.