“You’re fine,” I laugh. “No husband or boyfriend. This past year I haven’t really had much time for dating. Been really busy with the restaurant.”
He looks up at me. “I understand that.”
“What about you?” I ask.
His grin widens. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or husband.”
I roll my eyes. “Smart ass.” He doesn’t have a ring on his finger either. “Do you have a girlfriend back in New York?”
“More like an ex-wife,” he answers, almost as if he’s ashamed to admit it.
“What happened?”
He shrugs. “Work. I spent too much time away and we grew apart.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have any kids?”
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I’m actually thankful for that. Don’t get me wrong, I want kids, but the last thing I’d ever wish on a child is to have a split family. My parents were married for fifty years before my father passed.”
“Mine are still together and about to celebrate their forty-sixth anniversary next month.”
We both finish our pastries and he orders another dozen to go. I’m tempted to do the same, but I’ll end up eating them all in one sitting if I do. They’re ridiculously addictive.
Adam leans back in his chair. “So tell me more about your restaurant. I’m really impressed with what you’ve done. I don’t think I’ve ever walked into a place that had everything so in order.” Before I can speak, he leans his elbows on the table and smiles. “Then again, you were kind of OCD back in the day.”
She points at me, giving me a half-hearted glare. “Hey, I told you before, I’m not OCD. I just like everything in place. Don’t make me stab you with my fork.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay.” His gaze roams over to the empty table beside where there is a newspaper spread out. He reaches for it and shows me the article. The title reads Taste of Chicago Coming Soon! “I plan on being in town for this. Are you going?”
I nod. “I have a booth. I’m trying my luck at the pulled pork contest. My dad was the best at it. I took his recipe and added my own twist for the occasion.”
Adam seems impressed and I like it. “Oh yeah? I can’t wait to try it.” All of my excitement dwindles away when I spot a certain name mentioned in the article. Adam furrows his brows and tries to see what I’m looking at. “Why did you all of sudden look as if you saw a ghost?”
I laugh but there’s no humor to it. “Be lucky you’re not in the restaurant business.”
“Why is that?” He folds up the newspaper and sets it back on the table beside of us.
“Have you ever heard of August Cahill?” I ask.
He stares at me for a second and then shakes his head. “Who is he?”
My heart races just thinking about him, and not in a good way. “The man terrifies me. He’s a food critic that can make or break a restaurant. I’ve read about several places closing down because of his bad reviews.”
Adam snorts. “Seriously? A place shutting down because of one man’s reviews?”
“Yes,” I say with conviction. “And I read he’s in Chicago right now. Not only will he be judging the pulled pork contest, but he plans on visiting some Chicago restaurants.” I rub a hand over my racing heart. “It’s not like he’ll visit my place anyway. I’m a nobody in the food community right now since my restaurant is new, but still. It would kill me if he gave my restaurant a bad review and I lost everything.”
Adam reaches over and laughs as he squeezes my hand. “You have nothing to worry about, Maddy. August Cahill would be an idiot if he didn’t like your food. Don’t worry about him. Judging by the stellar reviews you have already, nothing’s going to take you down. Plus,” he says, giving me that dashing grin of his, “I’ve tasted your food. It’s amazing.”
I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks. “Thanks.”
Catherine comes over with the check and Adam gives her his card before I can even get my wallet out. It’s the same thing he used to do when we were in college. He was always very gentlemanlike. He’s five years older than me, but he always used to tell me his mother raised him right. I haven’t met anyone like him since then.
“Want to take a walk?” Adam asks.
“Sure. It’s a nice morning.” The weather is perfect, and I don’t have to be at the restaurant for another hour or so. Catherine brings Adams card back and hands us a bag to put our boxes of pastries in.
Adam carries the bag of pastries and we head outside. We walk side by side on the walkway that overlooks Lake Michigan. “You know, I really do regret not keeping in touch with you.”