Simmer Down

over me that he wouldn’t be able to function? So what if it was narcissistic! I didn’t care. I had to fix everything right now.
    Determined to clear up the misunderstanding, I pushed open the restroom door. As a server returned to the kitchen, I followed him into the madness. Josh and Snacker were moving at warp speed, finishing plates that were lined up across one of the counters. The two chefs garnished dishes with herbs, wiped drops of sauce off the edges of plates, and adjusted the positions of food to give the most artful effect. Snacker had a dish towel in one hand and was cleaning sauce off the edges of the dishes, and Josh was glaring at the plates as if daring them to be more outstanding than they already were.
    “Okay, Chef. These are ready to go.” Snacker stood back proudly.
    “And they would’ve been ready to go sooner if you hadn’t kept disappearing on me.” Josh didn’t even look at Snacker. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you tonight, but get it together.”
    Snacker had the decency to look ashamed. “Gotcha. Orders are up!” he called out.
    “Thank God. What took so long?” growled a waitress.
    I slipped out the door. This was not, after all, the time to explain myself to Josh. I returned to our table at the front and sat down.
    Our appetizer and salad plates had been cleared. Doug was raving about his lobster tail. “That was ridiculously good. You better watch yourself, Chloe, because if I get the chance, I’m going after Josh myself.”
    I willed Heather not to applaud, but she was too busy chugging down a glass of water to celebrate the possibility that my gay friend would swoop in and steal my boyfriend. By the time my steak arrived, I felt significantly more positive about resolving this misunderstanding with Josh. He was under monumental stress today; his snapping at me probably had less to do with me than with the pressure to pull off opening night.
    Obligatory or not, my steak was phenomenal. The tangy taste of the Stilton potato cake worked beautifully with the peppery seared beef. The baby vegetables were still slightly crunchy and full of flavor. When Doug fed me a bite of the roasted vegetable Wellington, I nearly groaned with delight: the pastry was light and crisp, the vegetable filling was delectable, and the red pepper and balsamic sauces were heaven. Now I was really feeling better about Josh; this food was like make-up sex.
    Another glass of wine later, and we had all cleaned our plates. I was totally stuffed, but had I been in the privacy of my own home, I’d have picked up my plate and licked it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to cram a dessert into my stomach, but there was no way I was going to miss out on the banana creation, which I knew from Josh consisted of caramelized banana slices served with banana ice cream and topped with a rum sauce and banana chantilly.
    Josh and a server brought out our desserts.
    “I’m sorry,” my chef whispered in my ear. “I’ve been an asshole. I’m just really edgy tonight with the opening. Snacker talked me out of my mood, but I don’t like the thought of you with another guy.”
    I looked up at him and smiled. Yay! He was over it! “But,” he added, “what were you doing out with Sean last night?”
    Okay, he wasn’t quite over it.
    “Sean called me and asked me to meet him, so I did. And what about you? Were you at Hannah’s place last night cooking for her?”
    “What are you talking about?” Josh looked at me, stunned. “I didn’t cook anything for Hannah. I was busting my ass here all night.”
    My family was even more interested in this interchange than in the food being served. To the best of my recollection, this collective distraction from food was completely unprecedented. A family first! And an unwelcome one, of course. Josh and I needed to continue our discussion away from the table and, especially, away from my parents.
    “Josh,” I said, “can you come talk to me for a few minutes? Somewhere else. Not here.”
    He nodded. “Yeah, things are calming down in the kitchen. Snacker’s taking another break, but it’s mostly dessert orders that are in, and the rest of the guys can handle that. We can go to my office.” Heather’s face sank with disappointment that she wasn’t going to witness a fight between Josh and me.
    Adrianna stood up with us to use the ladies’ room again. “That wine is just running through me,” she explained, although I was pretty sure I’d