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Her black brows pull together. “Well, no.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Let me explain.” Claire leads me to the couch, where she already has a bottle of cheap wine waiting for us. “So I was a complete wreck during my entire interview.”
My smile drops. “Oh no.”
She waves me off. “Everything that could possibly go wrong did. I overcooked the chicken and undercooked the fish. Then my souffle deflated before I had a chance to even plate it and I burned my hand on a hot pan.” She shows off her bandage.
I cringe.
“It was so embarrassing. The sous chef dismissed me in the middle of the interview after yelling at me for wasting her time. She made me feel this tall.” Claire shows me an inch of space between her index finger and thumb.
All the muscles in my body tighten. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I feel responsible for pushing you into this before you were ready. I thought—”
“No! Thanks to you, I ended up landing something even better.”
“How?”
She grabs a filled glass of wine and passes it to me. “I ran into the chef outside the restaurant.”
“How did you know they were the chef?”
“It’s a fu
“No way.” I smack a hand over my mouth to stop my laugh from escaping.
She nods. “Yes. I don’t think he was prepared for the Pandora’s box he unleashed when he asked if I was okay. All the emotions exploded out of me. I have to give him credit. He stood there quietly while I went off about how I tanked the most important interview of my career.”
“And?”
“And then he asked me a couple of questions about my favorite things to cook before telling me to make his favorite meal!”
My jaw drops open. “Get out.”
“It was like a movie! So I cooked him the best grilled cheese and tomato soup that man has ever tasted. His words, not mine.”
“A chef’s favorite meal is grilled cheese? Doesn’t that seem a bit…basic?”
“There is no room for basic bitches here.” Claire grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen. We might not have a gourmet size anything but Claire makes our small space work in her favor. She grabs all her supplies and starts preparing everything on the mini peninsula.
My stomach grumbles on cue. Today’s small lunch barely held me over, especially since I worked later than usual since I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop.
Claire points at the barstool and I take a seat.
“Then what happened?” I pull off my vintage headband and give the sides of my head a massage.
“He offered me a second interview after nearly orgasming on the spot from my food.”
I giggle. “Shut up.”
“Okay, that was dramatic, even for me. But his eyes did roll the tiniest bit.” She grins.
“So what is your new job then?
“The head chef is being transferred to a new restaurant project with Mr. Kane so he won’t be working at The Royal Chateau anymore. And I’m going to be part of the chef’s team! It doesn’t have a name or anything yet, but I’m guaranteed a spot in the kitchen.”
“Claire! This is huge!”
Her whole face lights up from the grin she unleashes. “Right?!
“We need wine!” I go back to the living room and grab our filled glasses. We clink them together and say a quick cheers.
“Without you pushing me to try, I would’ve never bombed the interview. And without crying by a dumpster, then I wouldn’t have run into the best opportunity yet! So I now believe in fate. You were right all these years.” She returns her attention back to the frying pan on the stove.
“So us meeting didn’t convince you that fate exists?”
Claire rolls her eyes. “No. I thought you were just an a
“One man’s accident is another man’s fate.”
“Tell that to my insurance company.”
We both laugh to the point of tears before calling my parents and telling them the good news.
Claire serves us the most amazing grilled cheese I’ve ever had, not because her skills aren’t amazing, but because of everything a simple sandwich represents.