“I’m sorry, I should clarify,” Ted says. “Callum won’t be part of this. I want to contract you and only you to serve a weekly dinner at the resort restaurant. Would you be interested?”

When the words sink in, I nearly drop my phone. “I don’t understand . . .”

Ted waits a beat before speaking. “Look, I’m sorry to hear about you and Callum not working out, but between you and me, he voluntarily stepped down when I called him about it a few days ago. He said he didn’t want to do the weekly service because he didn’t have it in him. He said you would do a better job of it anyway.”

I’m rendered speechless once more.

“Honestly, Nikki, he doesn’t give out compliments easily.”

I remember Ted making that exact same comment the night Callum and I collaborated on Easter dinner.

“I’ve been friends with Callum for years, and I’ve never known him to gush about anyone like he does about you,” Ted says. “It’s certainly a significant gesture that he would do something like this.”

Ted’s words trigger an image of Callum and me cuddled on his couch guzzling pink champagne while watching The Office. Our playful discussion of romantic gestures replays in my mind, how I said I preferred low-key ones—kind of like what he’s done for me just now.

My heart thuds. I swear it reverberates all the way to my throat. Maybe this is his way of showing he remembers what’s important to me—that I’m still important to him. Maybe it’s a signal that we can be something more. And maybe it’s my turn to show him how much he still means to me.

Ted clears his throat, cluing me in on the fact that I’ve said nothing for several seconds. I refocus.

“So what do you say? Are you still interested in my offer to have you cook at Travaasa?” he asks again.

He explains how much it will pay, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from squealing. Adding that to our weekly food truck earnings and the festival prize money would give our savings the boost we need. Ted also mentions the prospect of heading special event dinners throughout the year. I have to remind myself that it’s unprofessional to cheer loudly while on the phone with my prospective new boss.

This is it. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, the chance to showcase just how much I can do when someone gives me an empty kitchen, a fridge full of ingredients, and creative freedom. It’s the big break I’ve been aching for since I set foot on Maui.

I take a breath and finally speak. “I’m absolutely interested.”