His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

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The auditorium buzzed with nervous joy. Proud families, professors in robes, camera flashes going off like fireworks. I scanned the crowd once, twice, trying not to look for someone I wasn’t expecting to see.

And then they called my name.

My feet moved. The applause roared. My heart thudded against my ribs like it wanted to leap out and hug everyone who ever told me I could do this.

I stepped onto the stage and scanned the crowd, and somehow, my eyes found him right away.

Liam.

He wasn’t seated with the guests. He stood toward the back, half in shadow, half in light, like he didn’t want to be seen but couldn’t stay away either.

Steel gray suit. That familiar stillness that made him stand out even when he tried to disappear.

It had been nearly a year since I saw him, since the day outside Chef Wells‘ office. Since everything.

But time hadn’t dulled his presence. If anything, it sharpened it.

I didn’t imagine this. I wasn’t hallucinating from nerves or emotion. It was him, real and heartbreakingly calm.

When I received my certificate, he clapped–once, maybe twice. Subtle. Quiet. But somehow, it sounded louder than anything else in the room.

By the time the ceremony ended and I searched for him again, he was already gone.

Slipped out the side door like a ghost who only came to haunt a moment.

I didn’t chase after him. But something in me softened.

He showed up.

When he didn’t have to.

And that mattered more than I wanted to admit.

14:28

Chapter 91

298 Vouchers

Outside, the sun hit my skin like applause. Sophia found me first and launched herself into a hug that nearly took off my cap. She pulled back just to fix my curls, then hugged me again.

“Look at you!” she beamed. “Chef freaking Emily!”

My mom wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and blamed it on “the wind.” Lisa was radiant, snapping pictures like she was on red carpet duty.

We laughed. Hugged. Took a hundred photos in every possible combination. It didn’t feel real until I saw the picture of all four of us; me, Lisa, Sophia, and my mom. That’s when it sank in.

I’d made it.

Lisa made us do a ridiculous slow–motion group jump for her Instagram story. Sophia kept fixing everyone’s tassels like she’d been elected Chief of Wardrobe. My mom stood back at one point, hands clasped to her chest, and whispered, “Your father would’ve been so proud.” I didn’t say anything. Just hugged her tighter.

Then, as we were gathering our things, Sophia leaned in with a smug grin.

“We can’t wait for you to come home.”

I raised a brow. “We?”

She smirked. “Jay’s already planning your welcome party.”

I groaned. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little. He said it’s the least he can do since he missed your graduation.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you two didn’t even wait for me to land before plotting my social calendar?”

“Maybe.” She smiled sweetly. “But I promise you’ll love it.”

I didn’t argue.

Because deep down, I was ready.

To go back.

To start again.

14:28

Chapter 91

249 Wouchers

LA wasn’t just a city anymore. It was a tangle of ghosts and memories and promisés I didn’t know how to keep.

But maybe facing them was the next test I had to pass.

Even if I wasn’t sure where that starting line

Jay wanted a blowout the second I landed in L.A. A ridiculous guest list. I shut it down before he even finished his pitch.

“Come on, Emily. Just a soft launch? Your welcome–back era needs champagne.”

“Three days, Jay. I need to unpack my life before I celebrate it.

He groaned like I’d just canceled his birthday. “Fine. But I’m still doing something. No take- backs.”

That’s how I found myself three nights later in his living room, barefoot, dancing off–beat to a trending TikTok challenge with Jay and Sophia. Party shreds littered the floor. Pizza boxes decorated the counter. And tequila ran heavier than common sense.

Jay went all out, despite our “just us” rule. Streamers, balloons, even a custom cake that read: Welcome Back, Chef Emily, Queen of Our Stomachs.

Sophia stared at it and burst into laughter. “Jay, you’re unbelievable.”

“It’s heartfelt!” he grinned.

We danced, shouted lyrics we didn’t know, and collapsed in a heap of limbs and laughter on the rug. My stomach ached. My cheeks were flushed. I was warm all over, from tequila and the kind of joy you don’t realize you’ve missed until you’re knee–deep in it again.

Jay raised his glass. “To Emily. For surviving culinary school, caffeine withdrawals, and all of us. You did it, Chef.”

“Cheers!” Sophia and I shouted, glasses clinking mid–laugh.

Then the front door slammed open.