Don’t Fall for the Doctor by Lacey Bolt

Chapter 23

Ashley’s stomach flip-flopped when Michael pulled the car into the restaurant parking lot. She’d worried about the car ride to the restaurant all day. Would they run out of things to talk about? Would she be able to speak like an actual human being and make sense while she spoke? She shouldn’t have worried about that at all. The short car ride ended before she had time to get nervous. But now that they pulled into the parking lot, her stomach somersaulted over and over.

Michael kept a firm grip on Ashley’s hand as they walked up to the maître d’. She leaned over to his ear and whispered. “Do you think there’s any chance we can sit near the kitchen? It would be amazing to catch a glimpse of them working back there, or maybe even get a glimpse of the chef.”

Michael squeezed her hand and winked. “Leave it to me.”

The maître d' greeted them, and Michael leaned forward to talk quietly. The woman gave them a brief look of surprise before glancing at the computer screen in front of her. Ashley looked around the entrance to the restaurant. The building looked like it used to be an old Victorian mansion, with incredibly high ceilings, rustic wooden floors, and lush plants lining the dimmed entry. Quiet music set a romantic, hushed tone. She stood on her tiptoes and peered around the hostess, who still tapped buttons on the computer screen. Behind her, almost out of sight, was the back of a small grand piano. A woman in a glimmering dress sat in front of the piano, playing the music. Ashley inhaled deeply. The restaurant dripped with glamour. It was exactly the type of restaurant she had dreamed of cooking in as a child.

The maître d' motioned for them to follow her. She led them through the restaurant to the large wooden doors separating the dining area from the kitchen. Michael tightened his grip on Ashley’s hand and only smiled in response to the confused look she gave him.

The maître d' opened the door to the kitchen and motioned for them to follow. As they walked, she spoke over her shoulder. “The kitchen area is normally reserved for only kitchen staff. Tonight, you’ll be allowed here as long as you follow certain rules. Only walk where I walk. I will seat you at your table. Once seated, please do not get up. If you need anything at all, your server will be waiting nearby to help you.”

The noise and organized chaos within the brightly lit kitchen were overwhelming. People hustled from counter to counter, knives made sharp cuts on vegetables, and countless pots and pans sizzled on multiple stovetops. Every few seconds, someone yelled “Hot plate!” as they moved skillets and pans.

In the midst of the chaos, Ashley thought the hostess actually said that they’d be in the kitchen for the evening. She shook her head and tried to focus on where they were walking.

A few feet in front of them, a small table was set with two place settings. It was tucked into a corner of the large kitchen, far enough to the side that they wouldn’t be in the way, yet positioned so that Ashley had a great view of the staff working at the stoves, ovens, and prep spaces.

This was already the best date that Ashley had ever been on. Michael must have been a mind reader or something. Maybe a magician. Unless this was all a dream? She used her free hand to pinch her arm. It hurt. She wasn’t dreaming.

Michael released her hand when they approached the table and pulled out a chair for her. She sat, then waited until he was seated before asking the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since they entered the large room.

“How did you get us back here? Is this really happening? What did—?”

She was interrupted by a loud booming voice. “Michael! You finally made it!”

Ashley looked in the direction of the voice to see a tall man with flaming red hair walking towards them. He carried a bottle of wine.

“Jeff, good to see you.” Michael stood up and embraced the man briefly. Casually. As if it was a normal thing to have a walking legend of culinary arts greet you in the kitchen of his restaurant.

Ashley couldn’t feel her legs—or the rest of her body. She stared.

Jeff turned to Ashley. “You must be Ashley. I heard a lot about you.” Jeff stepped over and gave Ashley a hug. She tried to hug him back without resorting to twelve-year-old behavior by jumping and screaming at decibels that could cause hearing loss. “Brought you some wine. Thought it would pair well with the first course.” He held up the bottle in his hand.

Michael took one glance at Ashley and then turned back to his friend, who already poured one glass of wine. “How’s your wife doing?” He spoke like they were hanging out at a coffee shop instead of the kitchen of the best restaurant in the city.

Jeff let out a deep laugh and poured a second glass of wine. “She’s great. Out of town this week, visiting her sister. She’s furious that she’s not here tonight to see you and meet Ashley.” He handed the glass of wine to Ashley. “I’ve been trying to get Michael to bring a date here for years, but you are the first.”

Ashley paused, mouth open, and looked at Michael. He must have dated other women in the past. Why wouldn’t he have brought past dates here? It didn’t make sense. He could get a table at the best restaurant in the city at a moment’s notice. Why wouldn’t he bring every date here?

Ashley watched Jeff and Michael chat for a few more minutes before Jeff returned to the stove. Once alone again, Ashley picked up the cloth napkin and smoothed it over her lap. Somehow, the noise and organized chaos of the kitchen comforted her, giving her strength and relaxing her nerves. She cleared her throat.

“Was Jeff really telling the truth? I’m the first date you’ve brought here?”

Michael shrugged his shoulders and gave her a crooked grin. “True. I haven’t actually been here in over a year. Not the kind of place that Bill and I hang out at after work.”

She laughed as his words sunk in. “So I’m really the first date you’ve brought here?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” She liked the thought of that. She waited as one of the line cooks brought a plate of food to their table. Jeff shouted something indecipherable across the kitchen to them. The cook briefly described the dish as he placed it on the table, but Ashley didn’t pay attention. She was more interested in her date across the table.

Michael watched the cook as he spoke, nodding his head slowly. He ran his hand over his jawline, brow furrowed and head tilted slightly. That look tugged at her memory. Unless she was mistaken, he had a similar expression on his face the other night when he’d tried to diagnose her car problems.

The cook left, and Michael picked up his fork. He hesitated, fork hovering above the plate. He barely resembled the serious, focused man from the hospital.

She took her glass of wine and sipped it, then tasted the appetizer in front of her. There was an assortment of mushrooms with orzo arranged artfully on the plate with a small piece of parsley to the side. She closed her eyes and focused on the flavors in the sauce. There was a salty taste, possibly from parmesan cheese. The earthy mushroom flavor was just right. Not overpowering, but enough to satisfy her taste buds. She needed to commit this taste to memory so that she could try to recreate it after the next payday.

She opened her eyes and saw Michael staring at her intently. His fork still hovered over his untouched plate.

“I have never seen someone so excited about the food they ate.”

Ashley took another sip of wine. The wine tasted more earthy and full after the bite of food. She loved how food and wine influenced each other. “Anyone with taste buds would be excited about this food.”

“I guess so.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her curiously. “I never understood food. Jeff used to try out his new dishes on me back in college when we shared an apartment with a few other guys. There were some nights when he made three or four versions of the same dish, and he’d get so mad when I couldn’t taste any difference between them or tell him which one tasted the best. He finally took over cooking for the entire house after I burnt the food too many times.”

She tried to picture him in a college apartment and failed. “You really can’t cook?”

“I’ve given up on it. I usually eat take-out now. Have you always loved cooking?”

Ashley paused and thought over his question. “I guess you could say that. I started watching cooking shows with my mom when I was young, maybe four or five years old. We always made cookies and cakes on the weekends. By the time I turned ten, she let me make dinner a few nights each week. I was a little over-ambitious at first and made some really weird-tasting dishes. But it’s now just second nature to me. I could spend all day cooking if I had the time.”

“So why don’t you become a chef?” Michael looked at her intently.

Ashley sighed. She’d walked right into dangerous territory. She decided to stick with the story that she told everyone else. It was mostly true.

“I’m going to be a social worker. It’s a better job. Becoming a chef would take a long time, and it’s not a real job.” Ashley realized how shallow her words sounded as she spoke. “I mean, some people do really well as a chef, obviously.” She tilted her head towards the stoves where Jeff and his kitchen staff worked in finely choreographed movements. “But it’s not as stable a career as being a social worker. Remember how I told you that my parents died? I support myself. And hospitals always need more social workers. I won’t have to worry about finding a job.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned by being a doctor, it’s that there are no guarantees of anything in life.”

She sighed. He didn’t take her excuses as easily as most people. “Yes, but being a chef is more of a dream. I have to be realistic. There’s no one to help me if I fail. I don’t come from money.” Not to mention the debt that she’d inherited from her parents’ funeral expenses.

Michael sighed and leaned back in his chair. Ashley could feel his eyes roaming over her as she stared down at her plate, unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you think I came from a wealthy family?”

Ashley glanced at him in his expensive suit. “Probably. You must have had to pay for college and medical school along the way. I have massive student loans from college.”

“I was lucky. I had scholarships and took out a small loan to cover the rest. I didn’t have family to rely on for money either.” She raised her eyebrows at this confession. “Did Kelly tell you how we know each other so well? Why I spent so much time at her place?”

“No, she said it was your story to tell.” She’d tried, though. She even bribed Kelly with the offer of making creme brûlée, Kelly’s favorite. Kelly barely even winced as she rejected her.

“Sounds like something Kelly would say.” He paused to take a drink of water before reaching across the table to hold her hand. He rubbed his thumb lightly over her knuckles as he continued talking. “My parents worked long hours, so Kelly watched me after school. She had a son, about five years younger than me. He ended up being like a little brother. When he was three years old, he needed surgery to fix a heart condition that he was born with. It was a risky surgery, and he didn’t make it. I was devastated. Kelly and her husband were devastated too.” He paused and took a deep breath before speaking again. She bit her lip. Kelly had mentioned her son many times. The story always gripped her heart even though she’d never met him. “I decided that I was going to be a doctor, a cardiologist. I was going to be better than the other doctors, better than the ones who couldn’t save Bobby. Since then, I never looked back. I worked all through college and medical school to pay off the bills. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with five other guys so we could afford rent. Walked to campus most days because my car was worse off than yours.” He grinned at her. “And your car is pretty bad.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of my car! It’s seen better days, but . . .” She laughed at the expression on his face. “Ok, it’s a horrible car. I can’t believe that your car could have been worse.”

“A raccoon broke into my car once and made a mess. It took a month to get rid of all the smells.”

“Ew, gross, you win!”

Ashley paused for a moment as she thought over what Michael had told her. She had no idea that he had struggled so much in the past. Putting himself through medical school, making sacrifices along the way to make his dream career come true. Maybe she’d judged him too quickly.

Her thoughts wandered back to something else he mentioned.

“I knew Kelly had a son who died at a young age. She told me about him a few times, and I saw his baby pictures in her house. I didn’t know that you were close to him.”

“Bobby was like my brother. He always followed me around and tried to do what I did. I remember it was annoying sometimes. Most of the time, however, I liked having him as a little shadow. He made me feel important. I promised to teach him how to make a basket in one of those little toddler basketball hoops after he recovered from open-heart surgery. He didn't make it off the table alive.” Michael paused and took a deep breath. “I still think of him when I’m having a hard time or faced with a difficult case. His story still inspires me to do better. To live life more fully, which is something I have forgotten in the past few months. I’ve gotten too wrapped up in work and have forgotten to really live life.” He gave Ashley’s hand a firm squeeze. “That changes now. I’ve wasted so much time just focused on studying and being a better doctor that I haven’t had the time to date in years. But there’s something about you. I can’t say exactly what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m not going to let you slip away from me.”

Ashley’s smile widened as he spoke. She must have looked like a high schooler being asked on a date. No man had ever been that direct with her about his feelings. She waited for the familiar knots in her stomach to form under his intense gaze, but there was something about his presence that comforted her. She wanted nothing more than to stare into his eyes for hours. Ugh. That sounded like something from a romance movie. She needed to get control of her brain again before she lost herself.

Fortunately, Jeff and an assistant approached their table with a large tray of dishes. They placed each small dish on the table, offering a sampling of the menu. Ashley’s mouth hung open as she took in all the items in front of her. This was the height of culinary creations. A mecca for food. A table full of perfection, waiting to be savored.

She glanced at Jeff, who had pulled up a seat to the table and sat down comfortably. His assistant had already returned to the counter. Jeff, however, looked like he had nowhere else to be than at their table.

Jeff turned to Ashley. He selected a small plate from the center of the table and placed it in front of her. “I like to play a little guessing game with anyone who sits in the kitchen. Try this, and then tell me what’s in it.” He wiggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself.

“How many ingredients are in it?” She studied the food on the plate. Several scallops were arranged in a circle over a creamy sauce, with strips of a pale vegetable placed on top. Several small green sprouts and little red seeds added a splash of color to the dish.

“About ten.”

“How many ingredients do most people guess correctly?”

“Three, sometimes four. Most people recognize the scallops.”

She bent over the plate and took a deep inhale. It smelled heavenly. She chose carefully for her first taste. She took a bite of scallop with the sauce. The scallop was the perfect texture, with a slightly salty taste.

She looked at Michael. “Do you want to guess the ingredients first, or should I?” He hadn’t touched his fork yet.

He shook his head. “Go ahead. I would only embarrass myself.”

Ashley took another bite, considering the tastes and texture carefully. “There’s obviously scallop, and it tastes like it was lightly salted and then caramelized. The green bits on top are sprouts. I’d bet that they are watercress sprouts, but they could also be arugula sprouts.” She paused and took a bit of the crunchy pale brown vegetable on top. “These are definitely fried parsnips that were deep-fried in canola oil, not air-fried or baked in the oven.”

She tasted the cream sauce that was under the scallop she’d eaten. This sauce was a bit more complicated. She took another taste, letting the flavor fill her mouth. “This tastes like a puree of the parsnip with cream and some spices. I can taste curry, cumin, and turmeric. I might be missing something here, though.” She took another taste before shrugging her shoulders. She couldn’t identify the last flavor in the sauce, but she hardly cared. No one could care about anything after tasting a few bites of this dish.

She moved on to the last component of the dish: the small red seeds and the drizzle of red sauce at the plate’s edges. “The red seeds are pomegranate, and it tastes like you made a simple pomegranate dressing from the juice.”

Ashley looked up from her plate. Both Michael and Jeff stared at her. Her smile quickly faded away, replaced by a warm blush. She used to guess most of the ingredients when she played this game with her parents, but that had been years ago. Judging by their stares, she must have lost her talent for the game.

She looked back at her plate to escape the stares from both men and fidgeted with the cloth napkin on her lap.

Jeff spoke first. “Impressive. You only missed one ingredient. The puree also had coriander. You were right about the sprouts. They were watercress.” Jeff shook his head at Ashley. “Very few people guessed as many ingredients as you did.”

Michael joined in. “That was impressive.”

Ashley’s heart stammered from the praise. Playing this game with her mom was one thing, but doing it for a Michelin-rated chef was another. Not to mention that Michael stared at her as if he never wanted to look away.

Jeff picked another dish and placed it in front of her, offering the same challenge. Again, Ashley identified nearly every ingredient. He did the same with two more dishes, shaking his head in disbelief after each one. Finally, Michael spoke up.

“Jeff, are you still looking for another cook?”

Ashley looked up from the plate of food she was studying.

Jeff nodded. “Haven’t found anyone up to the task yet.”

“Ashley can cook.”

Ashley looked back down at the plate of food in front of her. She lifted a small forkful to her mouth and chewed carefully before risking a glance back up.

Jeff leaned back in his chair. “I bet she can. No one could guess as many ingredients in these dishes if they didn’t do a lot of cooking on their own.” He turned to her. “You looking for a job?”

She shook her head. “I have a job, and I’m trying to go to graduate school. Social work.” She looked back at Michael, expecting a look of disapproval. Instead, he nodded encouragingly.

“Jeff, she brings food to work all the time for her coworkers. Everything is amazing.”

“I really don’t think I should waste your time, Chef. I would love to work somewhere like here, but I can’t.” Her chest tightened. A job cleaning dishes in a restaurant like this would be amazing. Actually cooking here would be more than she could ever imagine. But it would also mean crushing her parents’ dreams for her. She swallowed hard.

“Well, I have an opening, and you’ve earned an interview. You’d need to come in one morning and cook a few dishes with me here in the restaurant.”

“Thanks, I’m flattered by the opportunity, but I’m really not interested.” She tried to sound strong when she said the words, but her voice shook.

Jeff shrugged. She didn’t even want to look at Michael to see his reaction, but she could feel the heat from his stare. She reached for her water and took a sip.

After a moment of silence, Michael cleared his throat and started to speak. “Ash—”

“Where’s the ladies’ room?” Ashley stood up as she spoke.

Jeff waved for the attention of one of the dishwashers. The woman dried her hands and walked over.

“Bathroom?” Ashley tried not to run out the door as she waited.

The dishwasher smiled at her, not aware of the stabbing pain in Ashley’s heart caused by turning down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A dream that she’d held since she was a child. A dream that could never come true. If she’d been brave, she’d have told Michael the truth. That her last conversation with her parents was an argument. She had wanted to drop out of college and go to culinary school. They wanted her to finish her last semester and earn her undergraduate degree in social work. She could never go back and erase their argument. She could never go back and make amends. The only way forward was to fulfill their wish. Become a social worker. Her dreams of becoming a chef had shattered the night her parents died.

The dishwasher turned and led Ashley away from the kitchen.