bloodshot eyes give away the emotion going through his heart and mind. Each recipe is one Desmond created, tested, and put in the approved folder on his computer so he could teach it in class. And each photo is one he took after preparing the dish himself.
“I thought maybe you could have it published. Not that version, exactly. You can exchange the photos, take new ones, but it could be another opportunity to grow.”
About halfway through, he gets to the first page of the desserts section and sees the recipe for guava turnovers. He shuts the book and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand then pulls me onto his lap. “I need to stop.”
He searches my eyes while I nod. “Of course. Are you okay?”
His chin tips up. “Better than okay.” Then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, holding nothing back. I can feel the weight of the bond that now tethers us in our hearts, and minds, and souls. I can feel his pain that still lingers inside him over his father’s passing.
“This is an incredible gift, Maggie. I don’t know how you did it, but it means more than you know.”
I swallow, feeling his appreciation down to my bones. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your love for food photography, and it got me thinking about how fearful I was to get back in front of the camera after leaving LA. Photography to me always had such a negative connotation. I was just an object in someone else’s eyes, to someone else’s perspective, their vision, their direction. Intentions were never clear-cut. Then I met you. And not only are you a brilliant photographer, but you’ve reminded me how beautiful photography can be as an art when filled with good intentions. Somehow you got me to fall in love with it all over again. But this time, for the right reasons.” I laugh at my rambling self. “I just wanted you to see your talent the way I do.”
“I’ve always seen you, Maggie, even when you thought you were hiding yourself from the world and pushing people away. There was something about you that I just couldn’t tear my mind from.” He smiles. “I’m always looking for something when I look through that viewfinder. Something meaningful. You want to know why I’ve never done anything with my photos besides hang some of them on the walls?”
I nod, my heart beating so fast in my chest that I can barely breathe.
“Because they’re never good enough, so I just keep taking photos, and I just keep searching. But then I started taking photos of you, and I knew I finally found my muse. Maggie, you became my muse without even knowing it, without even trying.”
“And you became mine.” I touch the recipe book and smile. “You’ve given me a piece of myself that I never even knew existed. When I met you, I was just a scared and lost woman with no idea where her life was taking her. And then you pushed me and challenged me and never gave up. You helped me find me, Desmond, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
The corners of his mouth turn up slowly. “Repay me? You’re already doing that, babe. You gave me your heart. Nothing about that is temporary.”
I curl up against him and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “And it’s yours forever.”
Epilogue
Desmond, six months later
“That’s a wrap on Season One of Desmond’s Kitchen!” Our director, Franklin, yells the words from the top of his lungs, earning a collective cheer from the production crew. It’s a crew of eight packed into the kitchen, along with all of their equipment, and by the chatter erupting in the room, everyone seems to be damn proud of the work we’ve all put in.
Between the footage being sent to Faye and her cohorts every single day and the major kudos she’s gotten from her network in response to the footage they’ve seen, it feels like everything we once agonized and fought over is finally worth it.
Maggie and I turn to each other after the final shot of our last scene of the season. As she squeals with delight, I’m raising my fist in an air pump to end all air pumps. The joy is practically exploding from me. And when I pick her up and kiss her hard on the mouth with all the production crew to see, I can feel her joy spiraling