Turn up the Heat by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant Page A

little after five o’clock, he called to say that he, Wade, Kevin, and some other staff from Simmer were going spend the evening with Gavin so that he wouldn’t have to be alone.
    “We’ll be closed again tomorrow, so maybe I can see you?” Josh said. “Not how I like to get a day off, but I’ll take it.”
    “Argh!” I groaned. “I’ve got a DSM review class tomorrow that Doug is leading, and I have to go to that.” The DSM’s official name was the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition , Text Revision, and it was intended for mental health professionals, a group that was evidently supposed to include me. Me! I just couldn’t begin to picture myself actually categorizing someone according to the DSM’s axes of mental disorders. I mean, my response to the DSM was that I’d much rather spend the day with my boyfriend. “But maybe tomorrow night?”
    “Well, I was hoping to spend most of the day at home with you doing unspeakable things, but I can wait until tomorrow night to commit a handful of sins,” he teased. “But first, maybe you’d want to come out with me and some of my fellow chefs for dinner? Digger called. He wants us to meet up with him and Lefty.”
    “Sure, that’d be fun. And then you’ll do these unspeakable things to me?”
    “Absolutely.”
    We hung up without my asking him about Simmer’s apparent financial problems. I couldn’t bring myself to mention the matter when the restaurant was about to stay closed for another day. Also, I figured that Josh had a reason for not telling me. The hours he worked put a strain on our relationship to begin with. Maybe he was concerned that I’d think that the financial problems were somehow his fault. I didn’t think any such thing. On the contrary, as I probably needed to make clear to Josh, I had total confidence in his ability to do his job and do it exceptionally well.
    With visions of dirty deeds dancing in my head, I still managed to work for another few hours before I gave up and drove to Adrianna’s to collect my wardrobe. When I walked in, I wasn’t surprised to see that her moving boxes were lined up neatly against the walls of her apartment. On each box was a large white label that stated, in purple block capitals, the contents of the box and the room in which it was to be deposited. Adrianna was the only person I knew who could maintain a high level of order and cleanliness while in the middle of a move. The last time I’d moved, I’d thrown the toaster in with my underwear and my books in with my hair dryer, and I’d wrapped my computer in a duvet. Nothing had been labeled.
    “Could you possibly be more organized?” But I was laughing.
    “I’m just trying to make the move as easy as possible. I’m sorting through stuff I never use and trying to get rid of extra junk. There’s a box in my bedroom for you to go through. Take anything you want.” Adrianna swooped her hair back into a ponytail and then adjusted the waistband of her pants.
    “Clothes getting tight?” I smiled.
    “A little.”
    “Oh, Ade, can you believe this? I still can’t believe you guys are having a baby!” I couldn’t stop myself from flinging my arms around her in a big hug. “I’m going to be an aunt! Sort of.” Adrianna had always felt like a sister to me, and over the past few years, Owen had become the brother I’d never had. The hitch was that if Adrianna was my sister and Owen was my brother, then they were siblings, so their being together was pretty grotesque. Obviously, they weren’t really siblings except in my mind. Owen, I decided, could be my brother-in-law. That felt better.
    “Of course you’re going to be an aunt. You’re the designated aunt whether you like it or not.” She started taping another box shut. “Oh, the clothes I told you about are right here. They’re all yours for now.” Ade pointed to an overstuffed trash bag.
    “So when do you think you guys might get married?” I