Chapter 3

JANICE’S POV

‘Impossible’, the word sits plainly on Eden Duncan’s face while he stares at me across the kitchen. His eyes stay locked on mine for one second too long, and my stomach twists hard enough to make breathing difficult.

The kitchen keeps moving around us but all of it feels distant and muted because Eden is looking at me like he’s trying to solve a problem that shouldn’t exist.

I force my attention back to the plate in front of me. “Table fourteen.”

“Yes, Chef.” The line moves instantly. Better, focus on work not the man standing twenty feet away holding five years of buried mistakes in his hands without even knowing it.

A server rushes forward for pickup, I hand off the plate without looking toward management again.

That should help but it doesn’t,  I can still feel him watching, my fingers pause over the garnish barely a second, but long enough to annoy the hell out of me. I haven’t hesitated on the line in years.

Why won’t he stop looking at me? “Chef.” I glance toward Celine. “What?” Her eyes flick briefly toward the inspection group. “They haven’t moved.” I already know.

My jaw tightens. “Then ignore them.” Easy advice, hard to follow because the second I risk another glance, Eden is still watching and that hurts. Not because of what he knows but because of what he doesn’t.

Five years of distance, five years of convincing myself I’d never see him again and now he’s standing ten feet away looking at me like something feels familiar.

“Chef Soto.” The manager’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I straighten up. “Mr. Duncan would like to meet with you.” My pulse slams hard against my ribs.

The office is way too quiet, I step inside and close the door behind me. Eden is already there standing beside the window. For one second neither of us speaks.

The city stretches beyond the glass behind him, distant and blurred beneath afternoon light.

He turns finally and that familiar twist returns low in my stomach. Five years changed him, sharper jaw, harder eyes, less warmth but he still feels exactly the same. Dangerous in ways nobody notices until they’re already too close.

“Mr. Duncan.” My voice comes out steady, his gaze stays fixed on me. “Chef Soto.”

Silence settles again. “So,” he says eventually, moving toward his desk. “Tell me about your kitchen.”

My heartbeat settles briefly. “It’s running efficiently.”

“That’s obvious.” His eyes remain on mine. “What isn’t obvious is how.” I fold my hands behind my back. “We train aggressively.”

“Aggressively?” I shrug slightly. “Mistakes cost money.” His mouth almost twitches. “People seem afraid of disappointing you.”

The observation lands strangely because he used to say similar things back then. I force the memory away immediately. “They respect standards.”

“That’s not the same thing.” It isn’t but I don’t answer. Eden studies me quietly. The silence stretches long enough that I start feeling trapped inside it. “You’ve worked here four years.”

“Yes.”

“And before that?”

“Restaurants.”

“Where?”

“Several places.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Specific.” I meet his gaze. “Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m evaluating senior management.” I list previous employers quickly. Hotels, restaurants, catering contracts and Eden listens carefully.

“Do you cook often outside work?” The question catches me off guard. “What?” His expression doesn’t change. “The sauce.” My heartbeat stumbles, shit…….“The sauce?”

“The one I tasted downstairs.” I keep my face still. Years of practice finally earning their keep. “What about it?” His gaze sharpens. “It was familiar.” The room suddenly feels too small, warm and dangerous. I force a calm breath. “Lots of dishes are familiar.”

“Not like that.” For one horrible second I can almost hear Chloe laughing inside my head while teaching me how much rosemary was too much rosemary.

The same recipe, balance, flavor because she taught me. Because she was my sister. I miss her every day.

“Chef Soto.” I blink, Eden is watching me, waiting. I realize my silence lasted too long. “It was just a sauce.” The answer sounds weak even to me.

“Maybe.” Another pause. “Did you know Chloe?” Everything inside me stops, my pulse pounds loudly enough to make hearing difficult. “What?” His eyes never leave mine. “Chloe Soto.”

The name hits like a punch even now after five years. I swallow carefully. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because the dish tasted exactly like something she used to make.”

I look away first, Instant mistake. The second it happens I know he notices. Eden always noticed everything. “Chef Soto.” My throat tightens. “I should get back to service.”

His eyes narrow but after a moment he nods once. “Of course.” I let out a breath slowly.

I move toward the door. “You reacted.” I freeze…..damn it, slowly I turn back. His gaze stays locked on mine. “You reacted when I mentioned her.”

The air disappears from my lungs. “People react to sad stories.” His expression remains unreadable. “I mentioned Chloe,” he says quietly. “You reacted before I even finished her name.”

Shit he noticed, for one horrible second I think he might push harder. Instead he simply watches me trying to understand something he can’t quite reach. Finally, I force myself to leave.

The drive home feels longer than usual, my thoughts refuse to shut up. Every red light gives memories another chance to attack.

The hospital, the lies, the grief. Eden’s face when he asked about Chloe. The way he watched me, he already knows something doesn’t fit.

I grip the steering wheel harder. I can handle this, I’ve handled worse. I repeat that all the way home.

By the time I reach home, my eyes burn every time I blink. My keys shake slightly while unlocking the door, the apartment is dark except for the television glow in the living room.

“Jack?” No answer, my stomach tightens immediately. “Jack?” I move faster then stop.

He’s asleep on the couch, a shaky breath slips out of me before I can catch it. Blanket is tangled around his legs, one dinosaur sock missing, TV still playing quietly.

I smile despite myself and step closer then I see what he’s holding, the smile disappears instantly.

An old photograph, worn around the edges. My breath catches, Jack shifts sleepily. The picture slides slightly in his hands.

Eden, It’s an old photo of Eden, one I thought I’d hidden months ago.

“Jack.” His eyes blink open slowly and sleepy. “Mama?” I kneel beside the couch.

My voice barely works. “Where did you find that?” Jack glances at the photograph then back at me. “It was in your drawer.”

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “Jack……” He yawns then asks quietly, “Mama…….when are you gonna tell him he’s my dad” My stomach drops.