Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 292

The kitchen is alive in that way only kitchens can be.....heat rolling off the stoves, metal clanging, voices overlapping without ever quite colliding. Organized chaos.

I move through it like muscle memory has become instinct....checking pans, tasting sauces, calling out times, nudging plates a half-inch to the left so they look exactly how I need them to. Izzy, my sous-chef, is at the station beside me, fast and sharp as hell....barely five one. She fits the role so perfectly it still amazes me. Tough but teachable. Brilliant but not arrogant. Loyal as long as you earn it.

I’d gone through two disastrous people before her, but she showed up, tied her apron, asked where to stand, and worked like she’d been born in a kitchen. Tonight we’re plating the special...charred bourbon short rib over truffle whipped potatoes, topped with a citrus chimichurri and crispy rosemary. Edgy enough to catch attention, comforting enough that people clean the plate. The kind of dish that makes sense in my hands.

“Two minutes on the ribs,” Izzy calls, not looking up.

“Got it,” I answer, sliding past her to grab the garnish.

Normally, I’m fully in it by now...locked into the flow, the noise, the timing, the heartbeat of the place. But tonight my head keeps drifting. Because after days of planning, and knowing down to the bone that I was ready....Tonight’s the night.

Tonight I’m going to propose to Xander.

And the thought has been sitting in my chest all day. Heavy, warm and steady. Not nerves. Not fear. Just this fierce feeling that I’m doing the exact thing I’m meant to do. I wipe my hands on a towel, call out a pickup, and for a second, the whole kitchen blurs.

I’d wondered a hundred different ways to do it. I’d considered telling Addy and Layla, letting them in on it, involving them because the second either of them even suspected something, they’d be obnoxiously excited and already planning half the night for me.

But in the end, I was too selfish for that.

I barely got Xander to myself these days. Between the shop, my hours here, and us constantly missing each other, the little time we had felt sacred. And this moment I wanted for just us.

I finish wiping down a plate, slide it onto the pass, and step back as Izzy calls out for the next order. Then suddenly the noise dips, just slightly, in that respectful shift that only happens when one person walks in. I hear the staff greeting him. Then Adam’s voice, smooth and warm, answering back.

I turn and see him standing just inside the doorway, hands in his pockets, all calm assurance. He's the only one who knows about my plan.

“You got a minute?” he asks. I nod, already turning to Izzy.

“You’re in charge—”

“I’ve got it handled,” she fires back instantly without even lifting her head. I wipe my hands on a towel and walk toward Adam. It’s loud, people moving everywhere, so we step out into the hallway, away from the heat and the clatter.

Adam’s smiling when I face him. I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

We have to shift sideways as a waiter rushes past with a tray. Then Adam looks back at me, still wearing that annoyingly knowing smile. “So,” he says, “....you nervous?”

I try to play it off, lift a shoulder, breathe steady. But the act lasts maybe three seconds. I sigh. “Maybe a little.”

He lets out a short laugh. “It’s going to be fine. It’s not like Xander’s going to say anything other than yes.”

“That’s not helping with the nerves.”

He chuckles. “Are you sticking to the plan?”

I nod. “Yeah. I am.”

It was his idea. Because I’d been stuck, completely unsure how to do it without waking Xander up when I got home, or doing it in some rushed, tired way that didn’t feel like us. So Adam had suggested I close early tonight, make the excuse that I needed Xander to taste-test a new dish.

I’d asked him earlier, and he’d said he’d be here around ten-thirty....half an hour after closing.

“Did you get the flowers like I told you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling. “I did.”

He laughs again. “Just make it look nice. Romantic. You know....candles, wine, the works.”

“I know.” But my body has its own agenda, because I start pacing without even realizing it. It hits me fully, the magnitude of what I’m planning to do. I’m going to propose. I’m actually going to ask him to marry me. And there isn’t a single part of me that doubts wanting him, choosing him, choosing us.

But the what-ifs still sneak in around the edges. Is it too soon? Will he think I’m rushing because of how long it took me to get here, to say things out loud, to trust what I felt? Will he wonder if the timing means something instead of everything?

Adam watches me for two seconds before shaking his head with a grin, like he can read every anxious thought stamped across my face. “Yeah,” he says, amused, “....you’re definitely nervous.”

Then he presses a hand to my shoulder, grounding me. His palm lands right on the fabric of the chef’s coat Xander bought me for my birthday, back when he believed I could have all of this, even when I didn’t.

Back when I still thought dreams were things other people got to live.

“Hey,” Adam says quietly, “....just breathe.”

I drag in a breath that feels too tight, too thin, but at least it’s something. He studies me for a second, then says, “I’m really happy for you guys”

“Don’t...” I cut in. “He hasn’t said yes yet.”

He gives me a look. Sharp and certain.

“He will. You and I both know that. So just focus on making it what it should be. Something perfect for the two of you.”

I swallow, nod. Then his expression shifts into something warmer and deeper, like he’s looking at something far off that I can’t see.

“In all honesty,” he says, “I’m still wrapping my head around this too.”

I scoff lightly. “You’re about to get all sentimental, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice losing every trace of teasing, “I’m allowed to.” He pauses, eyes steady on mine. “I’m watching you get everything you deserve. Watching you actually embrace life and everything that comes with it. It’s something I never thought I’d get to see. So yeah, I’m really fucking glad I get to witness this.”

The words hit deeper than I’m ready for. I feel my throat tighten, not enough to show, but enough to sting. I meet his eyes and say, quiet but solid, “Thanks for sticking around long enough to see it, I guess.”

He exhales, gives my shoulder one last squeeze, then steps back. “Alright,” he says, tone easing into something lighter, “I’ll let you get back in there. The sooner you finish up, the sooner you can close early like you planned.”

I nod, already feeling that familiar thrum of adrenaline twisting with nerves. “Thank you. For everything.”

He waves it off, but not dismissively, more like he already expected I’d say it. “Don’t mention it. You know you can count on me anytime.”

There’s a beat where the noise from the kitchen spills down the hall. Adam’s eyes flick toward the doorway, then back to me, and his mouth tilts into a grin.

“Congrats, Jax. Next time I see you, ” he says, nudging my arm, “....you’ll officially be engaged.”

I huff a breath, half-laugh, half-prayer. “Hopefully.”

“Definitely,” he says, no hesitation at all. “Go make it happen.”