There's hardly anything Thierry Fauber doesn't know about food. When an opportunity presents itself, the talented chef risks it all by leaving Paris and moving overseas to open his restaurant.
A series of fateful events and encounters accompany him...
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I knew my daughter had grown up when she gave me a 'Mom, get a life' speech. My sweet, little Ellie all but begged me to give Thierry a chance after the afternoon we spent at his bistro.
I wasn't going to deny there was something special about him. For starters, he was well-mannered in a weird, gentlemanly way. Then there was the fact that he actually listened to me and heard me. Being the owner of a successful business, it would be understandable if he kept the focus on himself and his achievements instead of trying to learn my biography. That wasn't what happened, and I was pleasantly surprised.
Ellie went to bed, and I settled on the couch with the paperwork for the next trial — another divorce. No kids, but without the prenup, things got messy regardless. Didn't they always get that way?
I understood my client. She was doing well financially, providing for both her almost ex-husband and her with the income her beauty salon gave her. When she got tired of carrying all the weight on her shoulders, things went south. The husband wanted what he thought belonged to him, even though he didn't work a single day to have any of it.
Maybe the fear of disappointment and heartbreak was, indeed, holding me back. I wasn't too lucky in my previous relationships. The last one was on top of the list of things I'd rather forget.
John was ambitious and passionate about his job. We met at a work event, hit it off. He was an attorney in a big firm. After months of dating, I thought we were getting somewhere. That was until the day I was invited to meet his family.
I should have suspected something when they invited only me without Ellie. It was at lunchtime on Monday. I had a hectic morning at the office. That and the rain made me arrive late, something that was apparently unacceptable.
A large house greeted me. A woman in a snow-white apron whose smile was as fake as they came had been already waiting for me at the front door. Feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny, I followed her inside.
I knew I failed the perfect girlfriend test in the kitchen when I admitted I didn't usually cook. That was unimaginable because I was a woman, and Johnny liked homemade meals. With his demanding job, he needed someone to take care of him and his diet. He deserved more than a crappy and greasy takeout lunch.
Johnny was eating his mom's stew, moaning while he did so. He didn't moan during sex. I figured it wasn't as good as his mother's cooking. That was fine with me, but what his mother said later wasn't.
She hoped Ellie was old enough to go to college soon. If not, there were boarding schools. Johnny wanted to have his own kids, not be a father to someone he didn't know.
Just a tad uncomfortable, but quiet, Johnny went on chewing, and I rose to my feet, thanked Johnny's mother for lunch that I hadn't even tried and walked out of their house and their lives for good after a one-sentence goodbye speech.
Giving that perfect house the finger from the safety of my car and a tight hug I gave Ellie later were the only two things that gave me satisfaction that day.
My daughter and I were a package deal. When I decided to adopt her, I was aware of the consequences. I knew as I got older, my chances to meet and date a good guy decreased. I couldn't go out the way girls my age did. I couldn't spend lots of time away from home, leaving Ellie to fend for herself. She was my daughter and my friend, and she would always come first.
After that relationship fiasco, I hit a rough patch. I told Ellie John broke up with me, because telling your fourteen-year-old daughter that you told your boyfriend's mother to go fuck herself wasn't an example of good parenting.
Ellie saw me crying a couple of times. She was even more attentive than usual, getting the laundry folded, and the bathroom cleaned. I hoped she didn't blame herself for the fact I was single yet again.
She was way more mature than most girls her age at that time, but not mature enough to understand the real reason behind my tears.
The older I got, the more I realized that there were too many Johnnies and too few real men.
