The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,48

on my own. It’s my whole life!” I stop and catch my breath, my slight frame trying to bear down on him.

He sighs deeply and starts toward me, reaching for my arms. I jump out of his reach and fold my arms tightly across my chest, keeping my distance.

No. Touching me won’t fix all this. He gives another frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Look, I’m... I apologize for what I said. I don’t know why I’m trying so fucking hard to make you believe me...” he says angrily before sighing again. “But I swear to you, this is all just a stupid misunderstanding. I want you to succeed, Cynthia. Don’t you get that?”

I fidget, crossing and uncrossing my arms. I don’t know what to say. I want to believe him. It would feel so good to believe him.

But if I’ve learned anything from my past relationships, it’s that I can only trust myself. And I hardly feel like I can do that anymore.

Stephen must sense how conflicted I am. His face softens and he tries to walk toward me once again. I want to let go, I want to fall into his arms and let him tell me he’ll fix it this time, that he believes in me and we’ll make it right.

“Cynthia—”

I quickly take another step toward the door, my voice cold and far away.

“I, uh — I have to get ready for the next episode.”

We stare at each other for a moment longer, the hurt burning in our eyes. But I’ve had enough. I turn quickly and head out the door, barreling out of the restaurant.

Thirty-Six

Stephen

The next few days of filming are, as we like to say in the restaurant industry, shitty.

Cynthia basically ghosts me. On set, she finds ways to not be near my person. Even if I come over to talk about the food while we’re shooting, she maneuvers herself to the other side of the table, or gets some kitchen equipment to act as a barrier between us.

Off set, she refuses to respond to my texts and sends my calls straight to voicemail.

‘Stephen and Cynthia’ are suddenly off the menu. Eighty-sixed.

It’s fucking torture. Even more tortuous is the fact that I can’t figure out why it’s haunting me so much!

Finally, during a break in filming, I take myself outside to the alley behind Origin. There, while staring at a leaky dumpster, coffee in hand, I force my brain to sort through these feelings I seem to have for Cynthia.

I remember when I first decided to be a professional chef. The certainty that overtook me as I realized it’s what would define the rest of my life. From that moment on, anything that got me closer to being one of the greatest chefs of all time was good. Everything else was bad.

I’m feeling that kind of clarity again somehow. Only now, it’s not over being a chef. It’s over being with Cynthia. Things that bring me closer to her seem good. Everything else is shit.

How do you like that? I think. You’re falling in —

There’s a loud bang behind me as the back door of the restaurant slams open and Chase races up beside me. “Stephen, there you are, thank God!”

Still staring at the dumpster, still thinking about Cynthia, I start to feel almost giddy. It makes me want to share the feeling.

“Hey, Chase,” I say, chuckling, “I just had a weird realization —”

“Me, too!” he declares.

“Let me go first.”

“No time!”

“Why, are we back?” I start to check my watch, but Chase grabs my arm.

“We’ve been back.”

“No one came and got me.”

“Because Nadia wanted to shoot alone with Cynthia.”

My stomach drops. I’m suddenly very aware of the disgusting smell of the dumpster.

“What?” I ask.

“I didn’t get it, either, until one of Rachna’s assistants confided in me, y’know, ‘Number Two to Number Two’.”

“Turns out, Nadia hasn’t just been going behind your back to the press. She’s been talking to Rachna and the execs, too; pitching her ideas. Nadia’s got a whole plan to embarrass you on your own show, and it turns out, they’re shooting it right now!”

I rip my arm from his hand and run for the back door. Problem is, it’s one of those solid metal behemoths with no handle on the outside! I look down to see that Chase, in his rush to get to me, managed to kick the door stop into the alley.

We’re locked out.

Cursing, I take off down the alley. I have to run around an entire block