A Date with a Foodie (The Dating 7)

“So, you didn’t do it as an apology for leaving?”

I shake my head slowly. “No, Brenda. The restaurant is one of the best I’ve ever been to. If she opened a chain, she’d destroy the market. Maddy is on the cusp of becoming the next reality TV star because of what she’s accomplished in a year.” I push forward a sales progression sheet.

“How did you get this?”

Epic douchiness! “The morning of the pulled pork contest, I couldn’t sleep. I was at her house and it was on the table. I looked and couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“Her earnings are increasing at seventy-five percent a night. This is unheard of.”

I nod. “And she’s only open until eleven. I can’t imagine what her sales would be if she drew a late-night bar crowd.”

“And now with your review . . .”

“Booked for a month.”

Brenda slid the paper toward me, and I picked it up. The numbers were astounding. It normally took restaurants years before they were comfortably in the blue. If Maddy’s trend continued, her place would earn over a million in revenue by the end of the year, and that was something to be celebrated.

“What are you going to do?”

Again, I sigh heavily, and this time I lean my head back in my chair. My feet push on the floor so I can swivel and look out over the New York City skyline—a sight I used to love—but now I love the one in Chicago.

“I don’t know, Brenda. But it has to be epic.”

It’s been three weeks since I left Chicago in haste. In theory, I should’ve stayed and tried to fix things with Maddy, but I also have a boss to contend with. Despite the fact that I have a successful food critic business, I do work for a publication, who pays my salary and tells me what to do. Now, I find myself standing in the middle of my downtown loft, with boxes stacked five to six high, some threatening to topple over.

“Stupid movers,” I mutter. I rented this particular place because of the kitchen. It’s brand new, state of the art, and I could easily see Maddy standing by the stove, cooking us a gourmet breakfast. I’ve given myself a year to win her back, and while I’m hoping it doesn’t take me that long, I’m prepared to wait because she’s worth it.

I set my bags down and move deeper into my new space. My mattress is on the floor, while my box spring rests against the wall. I’ll have to email Brenda and ask her what exactly these movers were supposed to do because while I’m certain they were paid to move and set up the major furniture, I left it all up to Brenda and she’s rather sour with me for moving.

In the walk-in closet, boxes are stacked, hopefully filled with my clothes. Seeing the mess makes me wish I had canceled my trip out west and just packed my stuff myself. Brenda assured me everything would be fine.

There’s a knock on my door, likely neighbor welcoming me. As quickly as I can I make my way to the heavy steel door and pull it open. Brenda stands on the other side, with a plant in her arms.

“What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer me as she walks in. “Wow, this place is much bigger than I thought.”

“Hi, nice to see you too. Shouldn’t you be in our office, back in New York?”

Brenda takes off her jacket and sets her things down. That’s when I notice, she’s dressed casually, not in the normal power suit she wears.

“I’m here to help.”

“Help with what?”

“The unpacking.”

“Hmm, it’s like you knew I was about to call you.”

She turns and looks at me. “This moving company was a joke, Adam.”

She could say that again.

“Well, let’s get to work.”

We do, and surprisingly everything goes much faster. She helps me carry my bed up the flight of stairs to the loft and jokingly says that I’ll never be able to have company stay here if Maddy’s here because of the open concept—no one wants to hear us hump like rabbits. She’s right, not that I expect people to come visit, but I’m hoping Maddy moves in eventually.

It’s late when Brenda leaves. She tells me where she’s staying and makes me promise to show her around the area before she flies back to New York. As much as I’d enjoy having her here, she has a family in New York and I’d never ask her to uproot them for me. Everything we do can be done remotely.

As midnight rolls around, I gather the things I’ll need and make my way toward Maddy’s. The night life is vibrant and alive in downtown. Laughter fills the street, couples walk hand in hand, and the sound of boat horns fill the pier.