“How do you feel?” she asks.

I take stock. “Amazing, actually. But...” I gesture at her. At her extreme lack of orgasm.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh.” Fine. Fine. What a terrible word fine is, to leave a lover feeling fine.

“Amy, I...”

She shakes her head, smiles. “We’re partners, right? And it’s not like two industry workers haven’t hooked up before.”

I touch my palm to where my pulse beats hard against my throat. “Right. Partners. You’re the owner and I’m the chef. We run a restaurant together.” I’ve hooked up with plenty of front and back house staff in my younger days. I want to say that now, as if to prove that I’m okay. I can handle this.

“And now you won’t feel distracted,” she says, matter-of-fact.

I can’t believe I called her a distraction. “What about you?” I ask.

She shrugs. Her face is remote. Pleasant, friendly, but miles away. I don’t know what I thought the aftermath of all this would be. But it wasn’t this. Finally having the chance to kiss her, touch her, felt like validation. The look on her face, though, that feels wrong.

“Me?” She takes a deep breath, tucking a curl behind her ear and looking away. “I wasn’t distracted at all.”

Chapter Seven

Amy

I need as much darkness as possible when I sleep. After busy nights, when emotions run high, I’m too amped to rest any other way. But last night I forgot to draw my blackout blinds, too distracted by Sophie’s taste still lingering on my tongue, and once I was in bed it helped to watch the moon move across the sky. Sort of like when I’ve had too much to drink and have to stick one leg out of bed to ground myself to the floor while the world spins. I needed grounding after last night.

Now the morning sun bakes my forearm and the side of my face as I lounge in bed, and despite getting UV radiation directly into my retinas I’m the sleepiest I’ve been all night. Sleep was restless and unsatisfying even after I got myself off, biting my pillow and hearing Sophie’s short, surprised gasps as she came.

My grumbling stomach is the only thing that can pull me out of this sunbeam and into the kitchen. When my brother and I moved out of our mom’s house after she died, the most important feature I looked for in my new home was a good kitchen. I ended up with a bachelor apartment with almost half of the floorplan devoted to cooking space. I need to air out my linens a lot but it’s worth it to be able to make big breakfasts in the morning.

Soon my seven hundred and fifty square feet are filled with the sound of sizzling bacon as I chop vegetables and grate cheese for my omelet. The day doesn’t feel like it’s ready to start until my stomach is full and satisfied. I could eat breakfast food for every meal. Ironic since my own restaurant doesn’t serve breakfast or brunch. That would require me to get up too early for work and I’d miss the opportunity to make this myself.