Reserved (33 page)

Travis needed to do something with all his newfound energy. It was time to chop, every chef’s go-to stress reliever, and then he remembered seeing Paige go into Logan’s office. Hope sprung in his chest as he flicked the lights on and there, sitting in the center of the desk, was Travis’s salvation. The one thing he’d been missing for weeks—Paige’s lunch box.

He felt the smile crawl across his face as he bent and grabbed the light blue woven and plastic handle of the Daniel Tiger box. He actually looked over his shoulder because he was being ridiculous. Seriously, how sad had his life become that what a newly minted six-year-old ate was up there on his priority list. He realized he didn’t care. After weeks of showing up, things were good. Travis walked back into the kitchen, pulled the zipper, and when he saw the folded piece of construction paper, he unfolded it. This time, it was yellow. There was a big smiley face made into a sun. Around it were flowers with big eyelashes and green grass. Across the top in blue crayon, it said—
MAMA SAID I COULD. MAYBE YOU SHOULD MAKE HER LUNCH TOO. I LOVE YOU
. The words were surrounded by the usual hearts and smiling sun, but at the bottom, there were three stick figures holding a bunny in front of a house.

His eyes filled and Travis cried. He quickly wiped the tears with his sleeve. Something about a little girl’s genuine expression, her happiness, bulldozed right over him. She was so incredible and there was no question he loved her, always would. He loved her mother too, to desperation if he was honest with himself. He looked at the drawing again and thought maybe he would make it to holding that bunny, that picture, someday. Paige’s drawings had taught him so many things. Love was simple. Holding hands, resting a head on a shoulder, flowers, and a smiling sun. He’d never known such love, even as a child, but he knew it now, and now was what mattered.

Lasagna,
he thought. Yes, that would be Monday’s lunch. Take that, Sierra!

The last hour was blissfully slow, so Travis decided to make the lasagna before he left so it could sit all day Sunday. Pasta was always better after a little sitting. He started chopping for his sauce. He could use the sauce left over from dinner, but he was going to use beef instead of their usual pork sausage to cut down on the richness. Travis put down his knife, wiped his hands, and walked out front to grab some basil from the garden near the entrance to the restaurant. He waved goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, regulars, and clipped his basil and a sprig of oregano. When he entered the back kitchen, Logan was grabbing something out of the pantry.

“Hey, I was looking for you. What’d your brother want?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

Travis nodded, said nothing, laid out the basil, and tried to focus.

“What are you making?” Logan asked.

“Lasagna.”

His friend glanced at the big kitchen clock, and then his face became puzzled. Travis grabbed several cloves of garlic and went to the walk-in for Parmesan and some of the mozzarella they had pulled right before lunch. They did their own mozzarella for all their pizzas and a couple of the featured salads. Travis and Logan both agreed it was what set them apart. Often, mozzarella was either too loose or like an eraser. They’d perfected it when they worked for Benji in Seattle. Logan was still standing in the kitchen, confused, and then he looked over and must have seen the lunch box because he grinned.

“You going with our sauce or ground beef?”

“Ground beef, cutting a quarter of the garlic, and adding a bit more sugar.” Travis was back to chopping. The rhythm—his friend understood the rhythm and Travis never appreciated him more than in that moment. No lecture or psych analysis, just rhythm.

“Fresh tomatoes instead of canned, especially with that extra sugar?”

Travis nodded.

“Yeah, she’ll love that.”

Travis felt a sting in his eyes again and shifted to cutting onions just in case he started losing his shit again. Logan walked out the door connecting the back kitchen to the bar and a few minutes later, he returned with two frosted glasses of beer. Travis didn’t even have to look twice; he knew it was Knucklehead Red from Beachwood Brewing. They’d starting carrying it a week into opening and it was their favorite. It had turned into their go-to beer. Logan passed a glass across the chopping block and then raised his glass. They clinked and drank. Travis went back to chopping and Logan left again. The next time he returned, he was wearing an apron and AC/DC was now spilling through the speakers. “Thunderstruck” started building, and Logan grabbed a knife and began chopping right next to him without saying a word. Travis was again grateful he was chopping onions.

They worked through most of the
Back in Black
album and by the time “Shook Me All Night Long” came on, they were layering their creation for the oven. Sage brought in two more beers for them and one for herself.

“We’re all closed up out there. You boys need anything?”

“No, I think we’re good.” Logan closed the oven door and leaned against the counter next to Travis. They all three clinked and sipped their beer.

“So, you finally told your family where to go. Well done. I almost jumped over the bar when I heard your asshat brother’s offer.”

“Do you have super hearing?”

“Hello, I’m a bartender. We can hear a pin drop out there in the jungle. Anyway, you two look like you’re having fun, but I wanted to say if you ever want me to poison Drew, just say the word.”

Travis laughed. “You know he’s a superstar in the football world, right?”

“Eh, who cares? He’s obnoxious. Night, guys.” Sage waved and the kitchen doors swung closed.

Travis and Logan sipped, still leaning on the counter. They had about an hour to kill and Travis knew it was coming.

“His offer?”

Never fails. Thanks, Sage.

Travis took another sip and once again affirmed that he loved a good beer. “Drew stopped by to tell me he was opening a restaurant and asked if I wanted to work for him.”

Logan almost wasted perfectly great beer, but he managed to swallow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Some investors are backing a sports bar. They’ll put it near the USC campus and call it Drew’s or McNulty’s and make a small fortune.”

“Yeah, I got that part. I’m a little fuzzy on where the hell he thinks you fit into all of that. Does Bozo not know that you were the single reason Benji got his second star?”

Travis laughed. “Lo, are you thinking Drew knows what Michelin stars are? I’m sure he would recognize the Michelin man, but that’s about where it ends.”

“Well, he should fucking know. His brother’s a chef.”

“Yeah, well, I agree, so I called the whole fam down and we had a talk.”

Logan’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

Travis nodded.

“That had to feel good.”

“It did. Cards?” Travis took out a deck of cards from under the counter.

“We’ve still got forty-five minutes, so sure.”

After a few hands of Hearts, the lasagna was cooled, covered, and placed into the walk-in until Sunday night. They both shut off the lights and grabbed their stuff.

“Hey, why don’t you come up to the farm tonight?”

“Are you feeling sorry for me?”

“No.”

“Is your sister up there tonight?”

Logan nodded.

“You think she’ll have a problem with me showing up again?”

“Probably.”

Travis laughed. “Can I borrow a T-shirt?”

“Yeah.” Logan clicked open his truck.

“Okay, I’ll see you up there.” Travis put his helmet on, swung his leg, and started his bike.

Chapter Thirty-Five

W
hen the rooster let out its strangled cry the next morning, Travis rolled over and pulled the covers over his head. They’d gotten to the farm a little after one and he had crawled into one of the guest bedrooms. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and even though every part of his body wanted to stay in bed, he had spent enough time with Logan to know that there was no point trying to sleep past five. He pulled on his jeans and already smelled the bacon as he headed downstairs.

Makenna shuffled into the kitchen without looking up. She was in pajama bottoms and wrapped in the same sweater Travis recognized from cookie morning, as he’d come to call it. He wondered if that white tank top was under there again. She walked straight for the refrigerator and held her hand up to her brother Garrett, instantly silencing him, which was hard to do. Logan was at the stove and once she’d cracked open her can of Coke and taken her first drag, she said, “Gentlemen,” to which her brothers replied in concert, “Lady,” and raised their coffee cups. She was back on the Coke again; he wondered if that meant she was just as miserable without him.

Makenna stood next to her brother and still hadn’t noticed Travis sitting at the table. He was looking forward to her surprise. She accepted a bite of the potatoes Logan was making and nodded her approval.

“Where’s your better half?” Garrett leaned his chair back onto two legs.

“She’s immune to the damn—” Kenna looked up, and Travis got the look he was hoping for. It was surprise, but not exactly a bad thing. Her eyes softened in what he thought might even be humor. “Rooster, Paige is immune to the rooster. She’s still sleeping.” Makenna finished answering her brother, but her eyes remained on Travis. “You. What’s with you and kitchens?”

Travis laughed and felt incredible relief. She was coming back to him. He could see it on her face.

“Morning, Makenna.”

“Morning, Travis. Are you still working your ‘showing up’ plan?”

He nodded and took another sip of his coffee.

“Sage told me you had a busy night last night.”

“I did. I’m shooting for great these days.”

She smiled, and Travis felt like his chest was opening up right there on the kitchen table. She was so beautiful. He’d missed her, and all he wanted was to pull her into his lap.

“I thought that was too much work. The leap and all, remember?”

“I do, but I’m all about leaping these days.”

She grabbed a piece of bacon and sat at the far end of the table, next to Garrett, who had his face in the paper.

“Are you helping us harvest the apples today?” She took another gulp of Coke.

Logan turned from the stove, emptied his skillet of potatoes into a white oval dish, and tried not to look guilty.

“I don’t remember you mentioning apples last night.”

“Didn’t I?” Logan set the dish on the table.

Travis laughed. “I don’t mind helping.”

“Your girlfriend will be there,” Kenna added.

He knew she was talking about Paige, but his girlfriend was already here, he thought. She was only a few feet away from him; he could reach out and pull her into his lap with little effort. She was wearing sweatpants and big red socks. Her hair was a mess and she was still drinking soft drinks first thing in the morning. She made him crazy, and she was the great love of his life: his person, or his penguin as Paige had once said. She’d given him strength to ask for more, demand more. Now he just needed to keep showing up and wait for her to let him back in.

“Iguanas grow back a new tail every time they lose theirs, did you know that?” Paige asked about an hour later when Makenna went to wake her up and found her reading in bed.

She patted a spot next to her on the big yellow bed that had been in the Rye family for generations.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Makenna lay down next to her daughter.

“It’s true, I read it last night. Iguanas have these big long fat tails. Look.” Paige flipped through the pages of her book and pointed to a picture of a big lizard with an even bigger tail.

“Huh, look at that. Very interesting. The tail falls off?”

“Yup,” she said, sitting up and closing her book. “Sometimes it gets stuck like under a rock or a meanie pulls it and the iguana gets away by breaking its tail.” Paige’s eyes were saucers as she explained her latest discovery. She jumped down off the bed and went to the dresser across the room. Since Gracie’s baby countdown and Paige’s general interest in spending time on the farm, they’d started leaving clothes in both places. She opened the middle drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans. Makenna watched her daughter dress herself and once again was amazed by how big she was getting.

“You know what I think is so cool?” she asked, pulling a blue turtleneck over her head, her hair dancing with static.

“Huh?”

“That they keep letting it grow back. If it’s just going to fall off or get pulled off again, why do they let it grow back? They should pro-lly just leave it off, right?” She hopped back up on the bed with her socks and boots.

Makenna took her little feet into her lap and pulled on the striped knee socks. “Well, I’m not sure about that. I don’t think the iguana has a choice, Peach. Its body needs to regrow the tail or it would be incomplete. I’m sure there’s something in there about evolution or survival, right?”

Paige was listening intently as she pulled on her boots and hopped off the bed. She ran into the bathroom, stepped up onto the stool, and brushed her teeth.

“I think you’re right, Mama.”