#arftfocb

She strokes his hair, and he grips her waist. Anchoring her. Trying to stretch this moment forever, because if she flees right now, he doesn’t think he could survive. So maybe, it’s really about anchoring himself. All that’s between them is a tiny, tiny amount of space where their breaths are becoming one. And her rule. Her fucking rule that haunts him every single day. Do not kiss me. Ever. Her voice rings inside his head on late nights when he can’t sleep. “What the fuck are we doing?” He finds himself whispering. —Chapter 16: Confit Byaldi

She’s been at The Bear for an hour, hovering over her notebook in the dining area, brainstorming about the July and August menu. Or trying to. The truth is, salsa verde, blackberries, gazpacho, porcini, calamari are all great, but it’s really hard to focus on work when she’s waiting for a certain former chef to show up, whose tongue made her see stars, not even twenty-four hours ago. And not the Michelin kind. —Chapter 10: Lemon Tart

One too-long day, a very-well-ignored message, a phone call with her dad, a few more shameful orgasms, and a good (terrible) night’s sleep later, Sydney is doing prep at The Bear the next day. What she should actually do is go to the office and finalize the June menu, but she’s gonna avoid the office as long as she can, obviously. Also, the carrots need to be diced perfectly for the mirepoix, so. —Chapter 9: Porcini

It’s been two months since Chef Carmen Berzatto’s retirement. Sydney still flinches whenever someone speaks his name in the kitchen. Carmy still doesn’t feel as good with his girlfriend as he hoped he would. The Bear’s first birthday party is coming up. Fak tells Sydney how to haunt someone.

(jealous Carmy is coming)

Pathetic sounds escape her lips, and she hates him for it. She blames the weather and her fourteen-hour shift, siphoning all the willpower out of her, leaving her a needy mess between the traitor Carmen Berzatto and the back door of the restaurant they built together. —Chapter 11: Risotto

That day is Sydney’s favorite day, since what feels like months. Or a whole year. Somehow, there’s no anger in her heart that night. It’s just them, orgasms, a bit of laughter, a bit of teasing, a bit of small talk, and something innocent, blooming between them. And when she kicks him out, it’s not kicking him out. It’s softly saying bye to him with a smile that she cannot hide. Fuck. —Chapter 12: Mochi

“Carmy?” And he jolts as he hears her voice calling his name, and only as he snaps his eyes back at her, does he realize Sydney and this man walked so close to him that they’re now standing there, just a few steps away. She wears a deep frown on her face. Such a contrast to her peaceful, happy expression she had when she looked at the man. A second bullet to the heart, and Carmy’s bleeding out on the sidewalk. —Chapter 15: Caprese Salad