In the Fire by Eileen Griffin, Nikka Michaels Page A

luck.”
    I wasn’t sure if she was referring to my lack of public speaking skills, or because my ex-lover was standing at the microphone waiting for the applause to die down. All I was sure of was, as soon as my duty here was done, we were leaving and I was getting plowed enough to wipe all thoughts of my past away. Even if it would only last for a few hours.
    My body went still as the applause finally ended and I watched as Lassiter took a deep breath and smiled. Golden Boy stood on the stage in all his glory, looking as if he owned the whole goddamn world.
    “I met Ethan Martin during our pastry rotation in culinary school. To say he hated it is an understatement. I’m not sure I’ve heard as many F-bombs dropped in my life as when Ethan was learning how to make soufflés.”
    A few scattered titters of laughter filled the room, and a cold shiver went down my spine as Lassiter turned his attention to our table and his eyes locked with mine.
    “But Ethan never let anything hold him back. He spent hours after school, in between the hours he worked in the school’s restaurant, to make sure he got everything right. If you look at his career post-graduation, you’ll find the same thing. Ethan became the youngest executive chef in the Seattle area when he took over Sharpe’s on Fifth in 2007. The success the restaurant has had since he became head chef is simply incredible. He’s been profiled numerous times in the media for the quality and creativity of the dishes from his kitchen. But it’s not just the success Ethan has had in the kitchen which earned him recognition for this award.”
    He drew in a deep breath before he continued.
    “What few people know, because Ethan tends to keep a lot of his personal life quiet, is he has been a huge supporter of the local Seattle Chapter of No More Hunger for years. Ethan regularly volunteers in its soup kitchen on the holidays, as well as making donations throughout the year for a cause he believes in. We in the culinary industry could learn a lot from him. Please put your hands together and recognize this year’s Most Distinguished Chef in the Pacific Northwest, Ethan Martin.”
    The room exploded into applause as the lights in the room brightened. Stunned by his words, I froze. The spotlight illuminated my table and made me feel even more like a bug under a microscope. Laughter filled the room when Lily visibly nudged me, halfway pulling me out of my chair, and effectively forced me to make my way to the stage toward the last person I wanted to see up close and personal right now. The spotlight followed my every step toward the microphone, and I had to grit my teeth to make my feet take me where they needed to go, regardless of whether my head and heart wanted them to.
    Halfway expecting Lassiter to simply hand me the award and make a hasty retreat offstage, I turned just in time to see him swallow hard, his hands shaking slightly. I put out my hand to take the flame-shaped award from him and took in a surprised breath when he grasped my hand and pulled me closer to him, his lips close to my ear. His breath softly brushed over my neck as he whispered roughly, “Congratulations, Ethan. You deserve it. All of it.”
    He pulled back, his blue eyes dark with emotion I hadn’t seen since he had left me at the airport in Seattle. I stared at him. What was I supposed to say? Why hadn’t he just left everything alone? He could have simply introduced me and handed me the award without a backward glance. My anger grew as we were caught between a past I knew we’d never recapture and a present where we could barely stand to be in the same room with each other.
    But the applause drew my attention back to the crowd and the moment was lost. He smiled sadly and backed away, each step a painful reminder of how many steps we’d taken away from each other since he’d chosen his path after leaving Paris.
    I cleared my throat and looked down at the award. My hands shook slightly before