My phone dings and a notification about an email from Mo pops onto the screen. I can reach out, unlock the device and read what he is contacting me about, but I have twenty minutes left on my self-imposed work day. If I switch over to my phone, I won't be able to come back to the tasks I have left. Finishing things I'm not interested in is hard, and my way around it has been setting minimum goals for the work. Today, I finished the last report that was on my list, but outstanding items include: updating the status in the system and sending Mark, who is putting together the proposal, the data for his power point presentation on strategic benefits of real-estate investment. The graph that shows the difference between the strategy focused on generating income in the near-future versus maximizing long-term growth and the types of properties the client currently has and can invest in. The final result looks simple but took me eight hours of research and data analysis. The timer goes off and I type up the last sentence of the explanations, re-read the email and hit send. I'm done with my work for the day. It's time to begin what Tall calls my second full-time job.

Tall's right. Five years ago cooking and filming different aspects of it was a hobby. Hard to say the exact moment it changed. The first time I had enough followers to earn money could be that milestone, but those checks were not enough to buy the equipment and the ingredients. Once I got to one hundred thousand subscribers and got my Silver Play button, it became a commitment I made to those viewers. But also more. I do it because I love it. The hard parts and the exhilarating ones. The frustration gets too much sometimes, but I watch the videos when they're all done and I know I'll do it again. 

Two or three thirty-minute videos a week involve about five hours of filming and at least an hour of editing per video. Then there is the planning, the research, the cooking of the entire dish, answering the comments and maintaining the website Angie insisted I put together, there are the classes I take, the books I read... Although I've never timed the exact hours I spend on the channel and the surrounding activities, Tall can't be far from the truth. Some time in the last year instead of focusing on the work and then doing what I can for the channel, I do what I have to for the work but my mind is on cooking, and filming, and editing, and experimenting, and I have to resort to timers, alarms, lists and reminders to complete the work Jamie pays me for.

The second screen on my desk is connected to my personal computer. I turn it on and open Mo's email. After the chit-chat about the successful event, I find the reason he sent this to me.

"I'd like to invite you to New York to discuss the possibility of a long-term collaboration project. The concept of the TV show will be based on what we discussed during the event. Every episode we will invite a home chef to bring in their family recipe, you will analyze it and offer reasons why it works and options on how to tweak it, while I provide ways to elevate it and improve the presentation. Each season will conclude with a book of the combined recipes the viewers can purchase."

Goosebumps run across my skin. I sift through the information to decide if I am scared, excited or both. I read Mo's email again.

When I talked to him about the cookbook idea, it was not about a TV show. I've never mentioned a show. My story was about the recipes in Am's grandma's cookbook and how she and I had different takes on it. What Mo wants to do it in the same vein, but in a TV show format. A chance to introduce food science to a larger audience, for people to look at their family recipes with a fresh eye. My answer is a yes. I want to do this. We can start with Amelie's recipe, and we don't have to stick with the Italian cuisine, we could branch out—or each season could be about a particular cuisine and that way the cookbooks will be thematic. I need to research the shows and how many episodes they run for. Ideas scroll through my head and the good kind of excitement runs across my chest. I type up the answer to Mo. "I am interested."

Talking to Mo means I'll be flying to New York again. I need a place to stay and more time off work. I might use up the days off I'm given and need unpaid days off as well. This is a first. Mo will have to explain how many days he will need me for and where will the filming take place. If I have to stay in New York a lot, I will have to figure out a living situation. This will be my second time flying there in two months, but I have a native New Yorker I can ask for advice. I text Linda.

Me: I'm going to NYC. Any advice on a good place to stay?

Linda: GM to you too. Lots of hotel options. Why and where exactly?

Me: Talking to Mo about more collaboration.

Linda: Ask him to comp your hotel. He can do it and his assistant will book it for you. Same with the flight.

Me: I can pay for myself. It's business expenses.

Linda: Suit yourself, but that's what I'd do. Which agent are you working with?

Me: Agent? I do not understand.

Linda: For contract negotiation, you are the talent. You need an agent to represent you. That's one thing I learned from Brenda's modeling career. You need someone who knows the business to be on your side.

Me: How do I find one.

Linda: I know a great agent, but it might be complicated. Let me try. Don't promise or commit to anything with Mo and stall for a bit. Let's find you representation.

Me: Thank you.

Linda: That's what friends are for.

I put down my phone and research talent agencies in Chicago, trying to discern who represents cooks or actors on cooking shows, how to go about selling a cookbook and what type of contracts exist for those types of things. I find too much information and not enough. It can wait. Linda will find the right resources and contacts. I close the computer and check the time. It's after five on a Thursday, which means Amelie is going to be at the University for another hour at least before she heads to my house for another attempt at cooking through her grandma's recipes. I have purchased the produce and the meat during my weekly shopping on Tuesday and have nothing to do to prep for that. Waiting for two hours before I see her makes little sense. The urge to tell her my news, to learn what she thinks of it and to plan my future with her can't be delayed.

Me: I'll come get you at your office. I have something I need to talk to you about.

Amelie doesn't reply, but she's in class. I check her schedule she sent me and find the location of her office. I'm the only one who hasn't been there. Mike and Angie delivered the books from Amelie's container and Tall helped them organize them on the shelves in her office. He didn't touch the books. He can't stand and move his arms long enough before he looses his balance, but he said it was the most exciting outing and he got a chance to tell others what to do again.

The reverse commute to the University takes forty minutes, and locating the right building takes another ten. The hallways are full of students, even at this time of the evening. I consult a map on the wall and take the stairs to the floor Amelie's office is on. The hallway I'm in is quieter than the first floor and I find the plaque that says Professor D'Amico next to the faded dark wooden door. I check my phone again and there's still no reply from her. I knock on the door, determined to wait here until she's back from class. The handle turns and in the opening I see a tall man with graying hair, wearing a maroon sweater that must be too warm for the weather.

"Where's Amelie?" I say and try to look around him into the room.

"Professor D'Amico's office hours are over." He rolls his 'r's the same way Amelie does when she speaks French.

"Who is it?" I hear Amelie's voice from behind his back.

"It's me," I reply and hear the clicking of her shoes on the floor as she approaches the door. The man's feet in leather shoes with brown laces, don't move until Amelie's shoes appear next to them and he steps away. I find her face and it's not smiling. "Did you get my texts?"

"Your texts?" She pats her jacket pocket and takes out her phone. She spends some time looking at and returns her eyes to me. "Forgot to turn the volume back up after the lecture." She takes a step to me and lands a brief kiss on my lips, then takes my hand and faces the man who's inside her office, standing between the two chairs in front of the desk that must be Amelie's. "This is Ben," she tells him.

"Ahh." He extends his hand but doesn't move my way. "I'm Nicolás Hallot."

The name is familiar, but I take a second to place it. I've never met him before, yet seems like I should know who he is. I turn to Amelie. She squeezes my hand and pulls me forward to her desk. We stop six feet away from Nicolas and she elaborates. "We knew each other in France. I told you about Nicolás, remember?"

She says Nicolás and his name said in her voice is the trigger my brain needed to place the name. She did say her ex's name was Nicolás. She never mentioned his last name, and I thought he'd be someone our age. The man in front of me, with his hand still extended my way, appears to be a decade older. "Your ex?" I verify. Amelie nods. I shake his hand and let go after the formality is over with. Touching his hand is unpleasant. There is nothing wrong with his hand, it's dry and a bit cold, but I don't want to prolong the contact. If it were not a required formality, I'd rather not touch him at all.

Nicolás puts his hands into the pockets of his corduroy pants. "I was hoping to meet the mysterious Ben and my wish has been granted."

"I had no plans to meet you," I say. Knowing about him is one thing. Meeting him in person is not something I needed. "I need to talk to Amelie. Could you leave?" Nicolás's presence in Amelie's office dulled the burn of excitement about Mo's offer, but not enough for me to forget about it.

"We were talking about the research opportunity for Amelie and some of my graduate students, but we can resume tomorrow." He presses his cheeks to Amelie's and air-kisses her three times. "I'll come by after lunch." He places his hand on her shoulders and tells her something in French that I can't understand. "Good to finally meet you." He's back to English and leaves the room.

His steps grow distant and awkwardness fills the room. Neither of us speaks. Amelie releases my hand. I examine the scuffed floorboards of her office. She leans her head against my chest and wraps her arms around me, trapping me in the circle of her hug. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale the familiar scent of the flowery shampoo. The love for her fills my nostrils, my lungs and enters my bloodstream. Coming here was a good idea.

3.28.21

The following chapters are...difficult. They were hard to write as well. And I am so close to finishing the novel I can taste it.

As motivation for myslef and a treat for you, I'm pledging here that for every new chapter I finish writing this week, I will post one here ahead of schedule, in addition to the Sunday updates.

On a lighter note, the name of this chapter is also a nod to a series of short stories I've been writing with my friend and excellent writer dlcroisette : The Star-Crossed Lovers Series. Each installment is seven chapters long. and they are interconnected, so you'll have more emotional rollercoasters to look forward to.

Mike's little brother Nicky is one of the main characters in the Star-Crossed Lovers Series. 

-For the Love of a White Christmas (complete on Wattpad and audiobook on YouTube)

Part 1

Part 2

AudioBook on YouTube

-For the Love of a Stawberry Valentaine (complete on Wattpad)

Part 1

Part 2

-For the Love of an Indigo Independence (coming to Wattpad June 2021).

We'll also be releasing another spinoff in the series:

-Star Struck as the first story in  anthology The Busy Romantic's Five-Minute Read (link in comments) and is coming in April 2021.

If you like my stories, you'll love these short stories as well. I promise.