“Y’all are really makin’ it work,” he says.
“Trying to, yeah,” I reply. “She’s what I been lookin’ for all this time. I’m not gonna make the mistake of letting her go again.”
“Good.” He offers me a tight smile. “I’m happy for y’all.”
“When am I gonna be happy for you?” I ask.
Luke shakes his head. “I don’t know, man.”
He pauses, like he’s going to say more. But then the door opens and we both look up and Olivia’s parents are standing there, looking around the restaurant with barely concealed awe.
Pushing off the bar, I smile. I may have lost The Jam. But we’re killing it at The Pearl if I do say so myself. We’re packed every night. There’s a two month waiting list for reservations. Being able to focus exclusively on my food here has given me the time and space to experiment in ways I never have before. It’s also allowed me to spend more time with Olivia—we’re heading out to the cabin a lot these days. It’s bliss.
I won’t lie, the loss of The Jam still stings every once in a while. But knowing people are enjoying my food, and coming back for more, is enough to make me happy right now. Hard to say if I’ll ever get the itch to open another restaurant again. I figure I’ll deal with whatever comes my way. As long as Olivia’s by my side, I can get through anything.
We can get through anything together.
I make my way around the bar and extend my hand to Olivia’s mother. I’ve never met her parents before, but I recognize them from pictures Olivia has shown me on Facebook.
“Elijah Jackson,” I say. “I’m so happy y’all were able to make it. Welcome to Charleston.”
We all shake hands. Mr. Wilson clears his throat and smooths his hands over his freshly pressed khakis. Mrs. Wilson shifts awkwardly in her fashionably understated sundress.
I glance down at my chef’s jacket and apron. My sleeves are rolled up, like always, exposing several tattoos on my forearms. I catch Olivia’s mother eyeing them.
I bite back a smile. Bet that’s something she doesn’t see every day.
“So you’re the Eli we’ve been hearing so much about,” Mrs. Wilson says, eyes flicking to my face.
“I’ve heard a good bit about you, too. Olivia was saying you’ve never been down south before.”
Mr. Wilson clears his throat. “We haven’t.”
“Y’all are in for a treat.” I clap my hands and nod at the bar. “How about a cocktail?”
Mrs. Wilson’s shoulders fall as she lets out a breath. “I’d love one. Please.”
Luke introduces himself while I shake up two more Olivias. He’s charming as hell, and flirts shamelessly with Olivia’s mother. By the time I hand her a cocktail, her face is flushed and her eyes are dancing.
“People sure are friendly down here, aren’t they?” she says before taking a sip. She smacks her lips. “Wow. That is—”
“Strong,” Mr. Wilson says.
“Delicious,” she adds, grinning as she takes another sip.
“Y’all be careful,” Luke warns playfully. “Chef Elijah Jackson is famous for his deadly cocktails.”
“Among other things,” I say with a sly grin.
Other guests begin to filter in. There’s Julia, Olivia’s friend from grad school and my neighbor. She wraps me in a tight hug and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you,” she says. “For making our girl so happy.”
“Thank you for being such a good friend to her,” I reply. “She loves you.”
“She loves you.”
I smile, giving Julia a squeeze before she steps back. “I’m a lucky bastard, I know.”
She fixes me with a stare. “You hurt her, and I’ll hurt you. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say with a quick nod. “I learned my lesson the first time.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says, patting me on the chest. Her glance cuts over my shoulder to the bar. “What’re y’all shakin’ up back there?”
“Bourbon,” I say.
Julia nods. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Louise and her girlfriend Mabel arrive next, followed by Kathryn Score, one of Olivia’s closest writer friends. The entire Charleston Writer’s Club arrives together, smelling like gin. Approximately half the professors at the College of Charleston come in next. Naomi walks in with Sergio. Maria ducks out of the kitchen to say hello.
It’s starting to get loud inside the restaurant. Music is playing. Good smells are coming out of the kitchen. Shakers are going at the bar.
When Olivia finally steps through the door arm in arm with my sister, I think my heart’s going to explode from too much happiness. Her face lights up, and Gracie laughs when Olivia pulls her close, clearly overwhelmed by the turnout.
Her eyes catch on mine. She smiles.
“Hey baby,” she says.
I go to her and take her in my arms. I know the whole room is watching us, but I don’t give a damn. I lean down and plant a big fat juicy kiss on her lips. Our friends erupt in applause and loud, lewd whistles. Olivia laughs against my mouth, looping her arms around my neck. I pull back to see that her eyes are wet.