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The kitchen was finally quiet.
Sydney was going over prep lists for tomorrow, her voice steady as she rattled off numbers—portions, par levels, the usual. Carmen stood beside her at the expo station, nodding along but not really hearing her. His hand kept going to his pocket, fingers brushing against the small box that had been burning a hole there for the past week.
Two years. It had been two years since he’d blurted it out like an idiot—“I think I’m in love with you”—right in the middle of service, his hands shaking so badly he’d nearly dropped a pan. Sydney had stared at him for what felt like an eternity before she’d laughed, that bright, surprised laugh that made his chest tight, and said, “Yeah, Chef. I know.”
She’d kissed him after closing that night, soft and certain, and he’d felt like maybe, just maybe, he could do this. Could be someone who didn’t ruin good things.
“—and I’m thinking we run the agnolotti as a special if we can get the mushrooms from—Carm, are you listening?”
“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I’m—” He pulled his hand from his pocket, ran it through his hair. His heart was hammering. “Syd, I—”
She looked up from her clipboard, eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing. I just—” He took a breath. This was stupid. This was so stupid. They were in the middle of a conversation about mushrooms and he was about to—
He dropped to one knee.
Sydney’s words cut off mid-sentence. “What are you—”
“Syd,” Carmen said, and his voice cracked a little but he pushed through it, pulling the box from his pocket with shaking hands. “You’re the—you make me better. You make this place better. You make everything—” He fumbled with the box, nearly dropping it. “Shit. Sorry. I’m—I’m really bad at this.”
“Carmen—”
“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for—” He got the box open. The ring was simple, a small diamond on a gold band, because anything flashier felt wrong, felt like something she wouldn’t want. “Will you marry me?”
Sydney’s hand had come up to cover her mouth. Her eyes were bright, shining in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. For a second, Carmen’s heart stopped because what if she said no, what if this was too much, too fast, what if—
“Yes,” she said, the word muffled behind her hand. She nodded, dropped her hand, and her smile was trembling at the edges. “Yes, yeah, of course. Obviously, yes.”
The relief that flooded through him was almost dizzying. He tried to stand up—and immediately his knee protested, a sharp twinge that made him wince. His other knee wasn’t doing much better. He shifted his weight, tried again.
Nothing.
“Ah, fuck,” he muttered.
Sydney’s expression shifted from tearful to incredulous. “Are you—are you stuck?”
“I’m not stuck, I’m just—my knees—” He braced his hand on the floor, tried to push himself up. His joints were not cooperating. Years of standing on concrete, of long services and bad posture and that old torn meniscus he’d never gotten properly fixed—it was all catching up to him at the worst possible moment. “Give me a second.”
Sydney pressed her lips together. Her shoulders started shaking.
“Don’t,” Carmen said, but there was no heat in it. “Don’t laugh at me right now.”
She couldn’t help it. The laugh burst out of her, bright and helpless, and she was already moving toward him, reaching down. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Carmen.”
“This is not how this was supposed to go,” he said, but he was starting to laugh too, taking her offered hand. She pulled, and he managed to get his good leg under him, using her as leverage to haul himself upright. His knee clicked ominously as he stood.
“You literally just proposed to me and now I have to help you up off the floor,” Sydney said, still laughing, her free hand coming up to wipe at her eyes. “This is so—”
“I know. I know.” He was finally standing, both of them still holding onto each other, and he could feel his face burning. “I’m sorry, that was—”
“Shut up,” she said, and kissed him. Her lips were smiling against his, and when she pulled back her eyes were still wet but she was grinning. “Put the ring on me before you throw your back out or something.”
“I’m not that old,” he protested, but he took the ring from the box with careful fingers. His hands were steadier now. He slid it onto her finger, and it fit perfectly, and Sydney held her hand up to look at it, turning it in the light.
“It’s perfect,” she said softly. Then she looked back at him, her expression shifting into something more mischievous. “You know we’re never telling anyone about the knee thing, right?”
“Richie’s gonna find out somehow. He always does.”
“Then we lie. We lie to his face.”
Carmen huffed out a laugh, pulled her closer. “Yeah, Chef.”
“Yeah, Chef,” she echoed, and kissed him again.
The prep list lay forgotten on the counter behind them. The mushrooms could wait until tomorrow.