Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You should come."

Carmy’s voice interrupts the silence of the empty kitchen. It’s late, everyone else has gone home, leaving just the two of them surrounded by the lingering scents of caramelized onions and roasted garlic. 

Sydney freezes, her pen hovering over the paper where she’d been scribbling notes. She glances up from her station and meets his gaze. He’s staring at her, his expression unreadable.

Just a moment ago, they were talking about the Ever funeral, and then, out of nowhere, he decides to drop this on her.

She immediately shakes her head. "No, um, no, I'm…"

"Yeah."

"Nah, I've got a lot of stuff to do, and-"

Carmy frowns slightly. "It'll be your last chance to eat at Ever."

"I'm very aware of that," she replies with an awkward laugh.

"Right."

"But I don't think that's, like, my place to be there," she says, the words spilling out awkwardly. Why the hell is she even saying this? She actually wants to go.

"Syd, it's- it's Ever," he says with a little raise of his brows, as if that’s the only argument he needs. And annoyingly, it kind of is. 

She’s never had the opportunity to go to Ever. She was either too busy working or too broke to even afford it. And now the opportunity is here, right in front of her, and she’s very stupidly talking herself out of it.

"Yeah, I- I know."

"So what are you talking about? You should come," Carmy insists.

Her lips press together. She should say no. Things have been weird between them since the opening. Well, not weird exactly, but not like before. She feels like they don't talk as much. It's like there's an invisible wall between them.

And then there’s Shapiro’s offer. She still can't bring herself to tell Carmy about it. She had the opportunity to do it a few minutes earlier, but she chickened out. Because if she tells him, she’ll have to admit she’s actually considering it. She’ll have to be honest about how she’s feeling, about the frustration, the unhappiness, and the panic attacks. 

And she's not sure that it's a conversation she's ready to have.

Maybe she’s holding off because she doesn’t want to see the look on his face when she says she might leave.

But right now, he's looking at her intensely with his cold blue eyes, his gaze never leaving hers like he's trying to bore into her soul. His eyes look even bluer than usual under the harsh kitchen lights. And, for a second, it feels like her brain has stopped working. 

So she has no other choice but to say a timid "Okay."

Because he's right. It's Ever. How could she say no to her last chance to eat at one of the best restaurants in the country while meeting some incredible chefs?

He nods. "Good," he says before turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.

"Good," she echoes softly, letting her gaze linger on him before returning to her notes.

When she leaves the restaurant after this conversation, she's as confused as ever. Every time she thinks she has made her decision, something reels her back in.

She thinks about Carmy, remembering the way he looked standing in the kitchen earlier. He's been looking really exhausted lately. Like he's hollow. Dead inside. So unlike the Carmy she met a year ago. Sure, he’d been an asshole back then too, but there’d been something alive in him. A spark. A hunger. Now, that hunger’s gone, replaced by something colder.

When he told her getting a star was hard, she hadn't expected him to turn into a joyless shell of a man.

The worst part is, Carmy seems to understand that he's doing too much. He knows things are off, that he’s spiraling. But he doesn’t do anything to stop it. Doesn’t even try. 

And that’s what scares her the most. And it's also one of the main reasons she’s not sure if staying is a good idea.

Because if he can’t fix this now, it'll only get worse. And if she stays - if they keep going like this - what’s to stop her from spiraling too?

As she gets ready for the Ever funeral, Sydney tells herself it’s just a coincidence that she pulls on those pants. The same ones she was wearing when Carmy told her she looked nice. It’s not intentional, not a conscious choice. Just the first pair her hand landed on.

At least, that’s what she keeps repeating as she smooths the fabric over her hips, catching her reflection in the mirror.

She can't help but remember the way he’d said it, "You look nice"  with his eyes lingering on her just a second too long. It was just a few words, but they had stuck with her longer than they should have.

She shakes her head, trying to push away the memory. She can't be thinking about that right now. She needs to focus.

After a final glance in the mirror, she straightens her shoulders, grabs her keys, and heads out the door.

When Sydney arrives at Ever, she's welcomed by a dark blue, beautifully decorated entrance. She lingers in there for a moment, taking in the atmosphere, before she goes further inside.

The moment Carmy spots her, she catches him letting out a quick, almost imperceptible, breath of relief. Like he was afraid she wouldn't come. He moves to greet her with a quick, almost tentative hug, before he guides her to their table. 

"Hey, everybody. This is Chef Sydney," Carmy says as they approach the table. She tries to suppress a shiver when she feels his hand on the small of her back while he's introducing her to the other guests.

She recognizes some of the faces at their table immediately - chefs she’s only ever read about in magazines or seen on TV. Their names are tied to the kind of restaurants she’s spent years dreaming about. 

The conversation flows easily at the table. She listens in awe as they all talk about personal stories, their shared passion for food and their various experiences. It’s actually refreshing to talk shop with people who understand the grind, the obsession, the sacrifices.

Carmy, on the other hand, is not great company right now. He’s completely silent, barely acknowledging the conversation around him. From the corner of her eye, she can see him rub his lips repeatedly with his fingers while staring at something. She doesn't think she's seen him touching his plate the entire evening.

She tries not to let it bother her, but it does. What was even the point of inviting her if he's going to ignore her the whole night?

Thankfully, Luca, who's sat on her other side, is a much better company. He’s warm, easy to talk to, and funny in a way that puts her at ease. She can see why Marcus got along with him so easily.

At some point, Luca also seems to notice Carmy's strange silence. "Carm, you alright, mate?"

Sydney lets out a silent sigh of relief. She was two seconds away from asking the same thing.

Carmy finally moves his eyes from where he was staring at to look at Luca "Hm?"

"You're staring," Luca says simply, leaning closer.

"Yeah, like, really staring, actually" she adds.

"What?"

"Who're you staring at?" Luca whispers.

Carmy's eyes dart back toward a table across the room. "Just a fucking asshole over there," he replies, giving a quick nod in the direction of his target.

Sydney’s eyes scan the guests quickly. "Which one?"

"The dude in the corner. Just don't- don't look right now," he mutters.

"David Fields," Luca says, noticing immediately who Carmy was talking about.

"Oh, shit. From Empire." She's heard a few things about the chef. He used to be big. A legend in the culinary world. The EC of the best restaurant of the country. She'd heard that he left Empire months ago, but word on the street was that he’d been fired.

"Yeah, he's a dickhead," Luca confirms.

"Yeah," Carmy says, his voice flat and emotionless. "He's the fucking worst and one of the best chefs in the world." 

"Well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world." Luca corrects him.

"Total prick. Fuckface. The bastard made me very, probably, mentally ill. Dead inside. Cold. Never turns it off." Carmy continues, his voice tightening, his hand trembling slightly.

Sydney watches him with concern. His eyes are glued to Fields, unblinking, like he’s physically incapable of looking away.

"Accomplishes more by 10 a.m. than most people do in a lifetime. I don't think he sleeps. I don't think he eats. I don't think he loves. He hates black pepper for some reason I'll never understand. And-" Carmy’s voice sharpens, his posture straightening as his eyes follow Fields’ movements, "he's getting up."

And before Sydney can process what’s happening, Carmy’s already standing. 

"Carm," Luca whispers in an attempt to stop him.

"Carm," she echoes. "Carmen," she says again, more firmly this time. But Carmy doesn't even spare her a glance. He's already leaving, determined to confront Fields.

She turns to look at Luca, who looks as worried as she does. "Do we think that's gonna end well?" she asks.

"Probably not." 

She shakes her head, "Yeah, no. I'm betting no."

Sydney stares at the door Carmy just disappeared through. She can't stop replaying the words he had said just minutes earlier. 

The bastard made me very, probably, mentally ill.

The flatness in his voice, the emptiness in his gaze, the way his hand trembled. She had no idea his experience at Ever was that bad.

It’s not like he ever talked about it. Sure, she’d tried to ask him a few questions here and there - about the work, the stars, or Chef Fields - but his answers were always short and surface-level. She’d figured it was just Carmy being Carmy, trying to stay humble, as he often does.

Now everything about his recent behavior makes more sense. It’s not just ambition or perfectionism. It’s survival. It’s trauma.

This doesn't excuse his recent behavior, but at least she understands him a bit better now. The last chef he worked under, the one who taught him the most and brought him to greatness, was an abusive piece of shit. And he worked there for almost four years. She can only imagine the impact this must have had on his mental health.

She can't help but think about her favorite dish. The one Carmy made at Empire. The one she’s raved about to anyone who would listen and made her want to work with him. Knowing it was created in an environment so toxic that it nearly broke him feels... wrong. That dish is tainted now. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth just thinking about it.

"You knew about all this?" she asks Luca, her voice low. Around them, the others are still talking, unaware of what just happened.

Luca shakes his head. "Vaguely. I remember him mentioning Fields being tough. And yeah, I've heard one or two things about him being an asshole, but not like this. Not to this extent." 

"Fuck," she breathes out. "Shouldn't have I known that? I mean, I've seen him almost every day for the past year, and he's never mentioned it. Not once."

Luca offers her a sympathetic smile. "I mean, it's Carmy. It's not like he's the most open guy I've ever met."

"Yeah, I guess so," she mutters.

I don't think he sleeps. I don't think he eats. I don't think he loves.

She can't stop thinking about that part. Because the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes he wasn’t just talking about Fields. In a way, he was basically describing himself.

He's been looking so exhausted lately. The shadows under his eyes seem to get darker each week. No matter what time she arrives at The Bear, he’s always already there. And he always seems like he's been there for hours. And when she leaves at the end of the night, he's always in the middle of something, nowhere near ready to clock out. So, it doesn’t take much to guess he’s not sleeping much, if at all.

And eating? She pretty much never sees him sit down for a proper meal. Sure, he tastes a few things during service to make sure the dish is good, but that's pretty much it. Half the time, the only things in his mouth are those awful nicotine gums he chews endlessly.

And for the last part... It's hard to forget what he told Claire when he was stuck in the walk-in.

A chill runs through her as the thought crystallizes: does that mean that Carmy's turning into Chef Fields? That he's turning into the abusive man that seem to have ruined him?

Her thoughts are interrupted by Chef Fields returning to his table with a smug look on his face. Sydney’s gaze darts toward him instinctively, scanning for signs of a confrontation. It doesn't look like Carmy punched him, so this is probably a good thing.

Still, minutes pass, and Carmy is nowhere to be seen. Her stomach tightens as she glances around the room, her eyes skipping over everyone.

"Do you want me to go check on him?" Luca offers, sensing her worry.

She shakes her head quickly, standing. "No, no, I'll go." 

Sydney moves through the softly lit restaurant, searching for any sign of Carmy. But he is nowhere to be found. 

Well, it's not like it's new for him to abandon her, she's gotten used to it by now. But the circumstances here are a bit different, and she can't help but be a little worried.

With a quiet sigh, she finally gives up her search and heads back to the table, masking her worry with a tight smile.

The rest of the evening blurs by. She spends most of her time in the kitchen chatting with Luca, Richie and the Ever staff. But of course Shapiro has to remind her that she needs to have that talk with Carmy. He must have sensed that she's still not sure about this because he keeps giving her an out. But, like a coward, she lies, pretending to be excited about this new restaurant. Like the thought of leaving The Bear doesn't make her sick to her stomach.

By the end of the night, she invites everyone back to her place for an afterparty, hoping it'll be a good distraction. And for a while, it works. The Bear staff join them, and everyone is mingling and having fun. Tina is dancing in the middle of the room. Richie and Jess are tucked into a corner, very obviously flirting together. The Faks are singing off-key at the top of their lungs. Even Andrea Terry, the three-star Michelin chef, takes over her kitchen, casually assembling snacks with what's left in her empty fridge. And for a moment, she loses herself in the party, dancing and laughing with everybody.  

But, at some point in the night, she goes into the kitchen to put something back in the fridge and her eyes land on the glowing review pinned to it. The one the critic from the Chicago Telegraph wrote about the Beef and her risotto last year. The first review she's ever gotten about one of her dishes. But, instead of feeling pride at the sight of it, it only sends her mind spiraling again.

Does she really want to leave the Bear and its team?

No. Of course not. She's poured so much of herself into this place. And the team is like a second family to her. They all mean so much to her, and she can't even think about working anywhere without having them by her side. Sure, things are hard sometimes. There's a lot of shouting, stress and mistakes. But for every bad memory at The Bear, there are ten good ones, each filled with laughter ringing out in the kitchen.

But then... there's Carmy.

Can she keep working with a man who's clearly on a path to self-destruction?

The image of him flashes in her mind.

I couldn't do it without you. I wouldn't even want to do it without you. You make me better at this.

And suddenly, it all feels too much. 

Her throat tightens. She feels like she can't breathe anymore. Her heart pounds like crazy. The walls of her apartment feel suffocating.

She's vaguely aware of saying a few words to Marcus about going to grab something outside, before she grabs her jacket and leaves her apartment.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, the panic attack hits her. Her breaths come fast and shallow, her chest heaving as though she can’t get enough air. She slides down the wall, her body trembling as the tears come, hot and fast.

For the first time in her life, Sydney can't bring herself to make a decision. Whether to listen to her heart or her brain. Torn between what she wants and what she needs. And it's eating her up from inside.

She has to make a choice, and she has to make it soon.

Chapter Text

"Are you, uh, are you doing anything next weekend?" Carmy asks, his voice breaking the quiet rhythm of prep on a September morning.

His question snaps Sydney out of her focus. She pauses, knife hovering mid-air over her half-diced carrots.

So... yeah. She eventually decided to stay at The Bear. She'll probably end up regretting this, she knows it. But her dad didn't raise a quitter and she couldn’t walk away. Not from the team. Not from the restaurant. And not from him, no matter how insufferable he’d been in the weeks following the opening. 

She was almost set on leaving after that awful panic attack. But then something changed after the Ever funeral.

The day after the funeral, Carmy came back with a different energy. She’d braced herself for the worst, expecting him to spiral over the review that ended up being pretty mixed. Instead, he seemed… steady. Grounded.

Since then, he's been calmer, has agreed to go for a weekly menu, has stopped buying outrageously expensive ingredients they couldn’t afford, and even managed to patch things up with Richie. She doesn't know what happened during his confrontation with Fields, but it looks like he finally realized he didn't need to be an asshole to be a great chef.

It feels like everyone else has also noticed this shift in him. The entire team seems more relaxed, happy to be here. Service runs smoother, there’s laughter in the kitchen again, and way less yelling.

And so far, she hasn’t regretted staying. Not yet, anyway.

"Um, well, it's the weekend so I'll be here," she finally replies, not really understanding why he would ask that. "Why?"

Carmy hesitates, looking down at the herbs he’s chopping. "Uh, I'm asking because there's Tiff's - uh Richie's ex-wife - wedding next Sunday."

"Oh." Sydney raises an eyebrow, not quite following. "I didn't know you were also invited."

"Yeah... I initially said I was coming with a plus one, and, well..." He trails off and she understands what that means. Claire was supposed to go with him. "And Tiff is gonna be mad at me if I don't bring anyone," he adds.

Oh, fuck. She thinks she knows where he is going with this.

"Can't you take Nat?" she asks, trying to play dumb.

Carmy shakes his head. "She's already coming with Pete. And... " He pauses to take a breath. "And I'm pretty sure my mom will be here, too," he mutters with a dry tone.

"Oh. And that's... a bad thing?" she asks cautiously. He's basically never talked about his mother, except for that story of her driving her car through their house one Christmas.

"Uh, kinda. I haven't talked to her in years. Been avoiding her like the plague. Nat's been talking to her again, but I'm- I'm just not ready."

"I understand," she says softly. "Have you thought of maybe not going?"

He shakes his head again, "I already RSVP'd. Plus Richie made me promise to come since Tiff doesn't have any close family left. And I can't have him being mad at me again," he adds with a small chuckle.

"Oh, yeah, you definitely have to go. I can't have the two of you fighting across the kitchen again," she warns, her tone playful as she points the tip of her knife toward him for emphasis.

He chuckles lightly. "Yeah, we wouldn't want that." 

Sydney nods, grinning. "Exactly," she says, before shifting her focus back to slicing her carrots. For a moment they're both silent. The only sound that can be heard is the steady rhythm of her knife on the cutting board. But she can still feel his eyes on her, and she knows he's not done with this conversation.

And she's right. Because barely a minute passes before he clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So, um, you'll come with me, right?"

Her head shoots up, and she blinks at him, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"To the wedding," he replies as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

She frowns, still holding her knife mid-chop. "Dude, I can't. What about the restaurant?"

Carmy scratches the back of his neck. "Honestly, I was thinking we can close it for the night. Give a night off to everyone. Richie, Nat, Fak and I won't be there anyway. We can just serve sandwiches that day."

She places her knife down as she chews on the inside of her cheek. He’s not wrong, the staff could use a night off, herself included. But this is Carmy, and the idea of being his plus-one to a wedding feels… complicated.

"I don't know..." she murmurs.

"Come on, you deserve a day off," he insists. And she hates that he's right. Even on her so-called 'days off,' she’s either at The Bear or at the farmer’s markets with him, searching for new vendors. She can't even remember the last time she's spent a full day not cooking.

"But it'll be weird. I don't even know Tiff." She only met her once, when Tiff came to the restaurant with Eva and Richie had proudly given them the grand tour. She and Tiff had barely exchanged words, but she seems really nice.

Carmy shrugs. "I mean, that's the point of a plus-one. Plus, Richie is also bringing Jess."

"Yeah, but they're, like, dating, so it makes sense."

Carmy shrugs. "The point of a plus-one is that you can bring whoever you want. Plus, you're like family at this point."

Fuck. It always gets to her when he plays the family card.

She's trying, really trying, to come up with an excuse not to go, but he keeps making good arguments. Plus, she hasn't been to a wedding in such a long time - well, as a guest, anyway. She’s catered plenty, and those gigs were always the worst. Long hours, demanding clients, drunk guests, and a lot of fake smiles. Maybe it'll be fun to be able to enjoy the festivities for once.

After a moment of internal debate, Sydney releases a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine."

Carmy's brows shoot up, a flash of surprise crossing his face. "Really? You'll come with me?"

"Yeah," she says, already regretting it. "But you'll owe me one."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "I already owe you a lot. What's one more thing?"

She snorts, shaking her head as she picks up her knife again and resumes chopping. "Just don’t make me regret it, Berzatto."

There’s a beat of silence, and when she finally glances up, his expression has shifted.

"I won’t," he says softly, his eyes meeting hers in a way that makes her heart skip a beat.

Yeah, she’s definitely going to regret this.

It’s been exactly twelve minutes since Carmy texted her, "Here in 5 min," and he's still not here.

Sydney shifts on her heels, glancing up and down the street in front of her building, searching for his car. She glances at her phone again to see if he has sent another update. Nope. Typical Carmy.

Maybe this is a sign that going to this wedding with him is a terrible idea. It’s not too late to back out, right? She could text him, make up some excuse, and be back in her apartment, makeup wiped off and in her sweats, within ten minutes.

But then, she catches her reflection in the building’s glass door, and she pauses. She spent hours finding a good outfit, and even longer on her makeup. It would be stupid to go home. 

Before she can decide whether to go back home or not, she spots his car pulling up to the curb. Taking a deep breath, she makes her way to his car.

"Hey," she says as she slides into the passenger seat.

"Yo," Carmy replies, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "Sorry, there was more traffic than I thought."

"It’s fine," she says, waving it off as she fastens her seatbelt.

He glances at her briefly. "You, uh, you look nice."

"Oh, thanks. I didn't really have time to go shopping, so I just went with what I had in my closet." She gestures at her sleeveless vest with yellow and dark green patterns, paired with matching wide-leg pants. 

Carmy’s gaze flicks to her again, his eyes lingering for a second longer this time. "No, no, this is good. You look good."

"Thanks," she mumbles shyly, feeling her cheeks getting warm.

As he starts the car, she turns her head to look out the window, hoping he doesn’t notice the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Fuck. She can feel her stomach doing flips like it's Simone Biles. She hates that she can't get rid of this stupid crush. Every time she thinks she's finally over it, he'll say something or look at her in a certain way, and the fluttering in her chest is back in an instant.

She clears her throat. "So, um, did you go to Richie and Tiff's wedding?" she asks in an attempt to make conversation.

Carmy glances at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "I did. It was a much smaller thing. Neither of them have big families, so there were more Berzattos or Faks there than Jerimovitches. And, as expected, the whole thing was pretty chaotic." He lets out a chuckle. "It was the first family event Sugar brought Pete to. Honestly, I’m surprised we didn’t scare him off."

"Oh, no, what happened?"

He shrugs. "Well, a lot of unnecessary yelling, as usual. And then Francie Fak and Sugar started fighting in front of everyone."

Sydney's eyes widen. "Fuck, really? Why?"

"Um, if I remember correctly, Francie was hitting on Pete the entire evening in front of Nat. "

Her jaw drops, and she can’t help but laugh. "No way. That’s wild. Is that why she's banned from the restaurant?"

Carmy nods, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.  "Yep."

The conversation flows easily after that. Carmy spends the rest of the ride telling small anecdotes about Tiff, and how she fits into the Berzatto family.

By some miracle, they manage to arrive at the church on time. They quickly get out of the car and hurry inside where most of the guests seem to be already seated. Carmy quickly spots Natalie and Pete seated in one of the pews near the middle.

"Finally, you guys are here!" Natalie exclaims. She stands, wrapping Carmy in a quick hug, before giving one to Sydney.

"Sorry, it's my fault," Carmy apologizes, as they slide into the pew beside his sister. "Where's Mom?"  

"No idea," she replies, her tone annoyed. "She just sent me a text saying she'll be a little late and that she'll probably join us only for the reception."

"How surprising," Carmy mutters.

Sydney lets her gaze drift over the gathering crowd as the last guests settle into their seats. She spots Richie and Jess a few rows ahead. They really do look good together. She knows how hard it was for Richie to move on from Tiff, so it's nice to see him happy.

As if he can feel her watching, Richie glances over his shoulder, catching her eyes. He offers a subtle wink and a wave, which she returns with a smile.

But then her gaze shifts and her eyes fall on someone else. Someone who's also staring directly at her. 

She leans slightly toward Carmy, whispering sharply,  "You didn't tell me that Claire was going to be here."

His brows furrow as he also notices the brunette seated across the church. "Oh, uh… I didn't think it was important."

Her eyes narrow. "You didn't think it was important to tell me that your ex-girlfriend would be here?" she hisses, careful to keep her voice low.

Carmy's frown deepens, clearly confused.  "Um, no, not really. I didn't think you'd care."

Oh, God. She really does hate him sometimes.

"I don't. But I'd have appreciated a heads-up. Now she probably thinks we're dating or something."

Carmy just shrugs. "Who cares?"

Sydney stares at him. The nonchalance in his voice is almost infuriating, but before she can respond, the procession begins, and the crowd’s attention shifts toward the back of the church.

The ceremony was really beautiful. There’s something oddly intimate about watching two people she barely knows profess their love to each other. Wedding vows always make her emotional. She blinks a few times, trying to discreetly wipe the corner of her eye before anyone notices. Especially Carmy.

She’s been hyper-aware of him the entire time. How he kept shifting in his seat, how his leg bounced faintly under the pew, and, most annoyingly, how his gaze seemed to drift to her every few minutes.

After the ceremony, they all head to the venue for the reception. They're sitting in good company with the Faks, Natalie and Pete.

But one seat at their table is still empty. Probably Donna's. And the way Carmy is staring at the empty chair confirms her guess. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him anxiously looking around him, scanning the room like he's afraid his mother will pop up at any moment. He's so distracted he's barely touched the food on his plate.

Sydney watches him for a moment, debating whether to say anything. Eventually, she places a hand on his arm, hoping the touch will calm him.

"You okay?" she asks, keeping her voice low so the others at the table won’t hear.

Carmy flinches slightly, his eyes snapping to hers. "Y- Yeah. I think I just need a smoke or something," he says, standing up.

"Oh, alright. You need company?"

"No, no, stay here. I won't be long," he replies, already fishing his cigarette pack from his pocket as he heads for the door.

Weirdly enough, Sydney's relieved he’s smoking again. Not that she’s a fan of the habit itself - it’s bad for his health and all that - but quitting had made him insufferable. He’d been so tense, chewing at those nasty gums all day. At least the cigarettes seem to offer him some sort of release.

Suddenly, a blonde woman in her sixties approaches their table, making a beeline for Natalie.

"Oh my God, Sugar. You're here! I've been looking everywhere for you," the woman exclaims.

Natalie immediately stands up, her body language shifting in an instant. "Mom, where have you been? You missed the ceremony and, like, basically the entire reception."

Oh. So this is the Donna Berzatto. Weirdly enough, she looks almost exactly how Sydney imagined her.

"It's fine, Sugar. It's not like it's her first wedding," Donna waves a hand dismissively. "Now, where's my beautiful granddaughter?"

"At home with the sitter."

"Oh," Donna replies with disappointment. 

She then let her eyes sweep the table, landing on Pete and the Faks. "Hi, boys!" she smiles, moving to greet them. But then she stops on her tracks when she notices Sydney.

"And you are…?" Donna asks her.

Sydney feels uncomfortable under the older woman’s gaze.

Before she can reply, Natalie cuts in. "Mom, this is Sydney. I told you about her. She's our Chef de Cuisine." 

"Oh, right. I didn't know you were friends with Tiff."

"Uh, I'm not. I'm Carmy's plus one," Sydney replies.

"Oh." Donna’s eyebrows lift slightly. Sydney feels her cheeks heat as Donna’s eyes scan her. "Sugar didn't mention you two were together."

"Oh, no, no, no," Sydney blurts out, waving her hands "We're not. Just coworkers. Very platonic coworkers." Okay, maybe she didn't need to specify that, but the words left her mouth before she could think about them.

Donna arches an eyebrow, giving her a look that clearly says she definitely doesn’t believe her.

"Hmm," she hums. Then her gaze darts back to Natalie. "Where is he by the way?" she asks, her eyes scanning the room.

"Uh, he went for a smoke, I think." Natalie replies, looking around for her brother.

Donna hums again. "Oh, okay. Well, then I'm gonna go congratulate Tiff. I'll be right back," she announces, not waiting for a response before turning on her heel and striding toward the bride.

Natalie lets out a sigh. "So... this is our mother," she says dryly, her eyes following Donna as she stops to greet Tiff.

"She seems really..." Sydney trails off, searching for a word that won’t sound insulting but also won’t be a lie.

"Eccentric?"

"Uh, I was gonna be polite and say nice, but that too."

Natalie huffs a laugh. "You don't need to lie, Syd. But in her defense, she's actually doing much better now that she stopped drinking. Way more tolerable. But... we're coming from so far, we still have so much work to do."

"I'm sorry, Nat. Must've sucked."

"Yeah..." Natalie replies sadly, her eyes lingering on her mother who's animatedly talking with Tiff. Then, she shakes herself. "Alright, enough of this sad shit. Let's go dancing, guys," she announces to the table. The Faks and Pete immediately stand up, like they’ve been waiting for the invitation all night.

Sydney hesitates, glancing toward the door where Carmy had disappeared earlier. "Uh, yeah, you guys go ahead. I'm gonna wait for Carmy to come back, and we'll join you."

Natalie lays a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Syd, honey. He's never gonna come dancing with us, but I appreciate your optimism."

Sydney laughs. "Okay, I'll join you guys after."

"Alright, suit yourself," Natalie says with a shrug before heading off to join her husband on the dance floor.

As she waits for Carmy, Sydney lets her eyes wander around the room. The guests are scattered across the room, either chatting in small groups or dancing.

But then, she realizes that Claire is also not here. Maybe she went home? Still, she wouldn’t be surprised if Claire was currently with Carmy. It was hard to miss the few glances she threw at him all day.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sudden reappearance of Donna, who approaches the table with the same dramatic energy she’d brought earlier.

"We are the others?" she asks Sydney, her eyes scanning the empty seats around them.

"Uh, they're over there, dancing," Sydney replies, pointing at the dance floor where the Faks and Pete are busting the most ridiculous dance moves, making Natalie laugh.

"And Carmen? He's still not back?"

"Um, no. I guess it's a long cigarette," Sydney replies with an awkward laugh.

"It's okay. I'll just wait for him here," Donna says, taking a seat at the table, just in front of her.

Sydney nods, redirecting her attention to her phone to distract herself, but she can feel the eyes of the older woman on her.

"So, Sydney," Donna begins, her tone casual. "How long have you known my children?"

Well, looks like she'll have to do the small talk then.

"Um, a year or so. I joined The Beef in July of last year."

Donna tilts her head. "So my son offered you to be a co-owner after knowing you for just a few months?"

Ah. Someone must have told her about the partnership agreement. Which she still hasn't signed. She considers correcting Donna, but she doesn't know if she wants to have that conversation with a woman she barely knows.

"Uh, well, no, this is more recent," Sydney says, choosing her words carefully.

"Didn't you work on the renovation with my children?"

"Oh, no I did," she clarifies. "They just hadn't offered me to be a partner back then."

There’s a pause, and Sydney feels like she’s being sized up again, and it’s hard not to squirm under the scrutiny. She doesn't know how to approach the woman. She's completely different from her two children.

"Can I ask you something, Sydney?" Donna says suddenly as she leans in closer.

"Um, yeah. Sure. Go ahead," Sydney replies nervously.

"How's the restaurant doing?" Donna’s voice is softer now. "I can’t go there. I’ve forbidden myself. I just... I don't want to ruin their thing."

Sydney blinks, slightly caught off guard by the question. She doesn't really know how honest she can be so she decided to not get into much details. "Um, it's still pretty new, and the first few months are always the hardest. But overall, it's doing good." 

Donna nods slowly. "And what's it like working with my children?"

"Oh, um, they’re really great. Both of them" she smiles. "The entire team is. We're all really close. Like a family."

Donna’s lips curl into a faint smile. "Yeah, sometimes your work family is closer to you than your family-family," she says. "They were my family once."

Sydney gives her a tight smile, unsure how to respond to that. She glances quickly toward the door again, willing Carmy to come back and rescue her from this conversation.

"Well, at least Sugar is talking to me again," Donna mutters, her voice quieter now, almost like she’s talking to herself.

"Maybe give him a bit of time," Sydney offers tentatively.

"He hasn't talked to me in five years. He's had plenty of time," Donna says sharply, making Sydney wince. The older woman must have noticed, because her expression softens immediately, shifting into something apologetic. "Fuck. Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to be rude, you have nothing to do with this. I just- I just want to know how he's doing. He wouldn't even talk to me after Michael… And I know he has every right to be mad at me and I want to give him his space. I just-" Her voice cracks slightly, and she takes a deep breath. "I miss my boy."

Fuck, now Sydney feels bad. Why did she involve herself in this conversation? What could she even reply to that without making things worse? She doesn't even have enough background on their relationship to give an opinion.

"It's okay, I understand," Sydney says finally, her voice softer. "Carmy's-"

"Ma, what are you doing here?" Carmy's voice interrupts them, making Sydney slightly jump. She turns her head to see him standing to her right, his posture stiff. He clearly doesn't seem comfortable seeing her talking with his mother. 

"Oh, Carmen! It's so good to see you," Donna exclaims, standing up abruptly. She moves toward him, reaching out to cup his cheek, but he moves away just in time to avoid her touch.

"We were just leaving," he says, his voice tight. His eyes land on Sydney, and she immediately catches his silent plea. "You had that thing, right, Syd?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, right. I have to, uh, go home, to, um, feed my sick cat... Risotto," she lies, standing up and gathering her things before moving to stand beside Carmy.

"Wait, Bear. Don't leave so soon, we haven't had the occasion to talk in so long," Donna insists with a pleading look.

"Not now, Ma," Carmy replies firmly.

Sydney feels so awkward, like she shouldn't witness this exchange. She glances around the room, searching for Natalie or anyone who might rescue her from this moment, but everyone else is on the dance floor, completely oblivious to what's happening.

"I just want to talk to you. I miss you," Donna pleads, taking a step toward them.

Carmy immediately takes a step back, like he's trying to keep a safe distance between him and his mother.

"We have to go," he says, his tone flat but firm. "I- I'll call you, okay?"

He doesn't sound really convincing, but it seems enough for Donna, who exhales slowly and nods. "Okay. Call me when you're ready. I'll wait for your call."

"Okay," Carmy echoes, his tone quieter now. Then he turns to Sydney, brushing her arm slightly and nudging her toward the exit. "Let's go, Syd."

Sydney hesitates for half a beat before following him.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sydney," Donna calls after them. Sydney turns around to give the woman an apologetic smile before following Carmy out the door.

Once they're outside the venue, Carmy stops abruptly and turns to her, his face tight with worry.

"You okay?" he asks, visibly tensed. His eyes scan her face, like he’s checking for signs of harm or discomfort.

"Calm down, Carmy. We were just talking," Sydney replies softly, hoping her tone will calm him.

"What did she say to you?"

"Nothing," she assures him. "She just asked how you and the restaurant were doing."

"She wasn't mean to you, was she?"

She frowns. "What? No. She just wanted to know how I ended up working with you guys. That's all."

He falls silent, his jaw tightening as he processes her words. It’s clear he’s trying to steady himself, his breath slowing as he exhales through his nose.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, his voice quieter now. "I just- I couldn't stay there with her around. I- I'm just not quite ready to face her."

"It's okay, Carm. I get it," she reassures him, not pushing it further. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about it. "Alright, can we go now? I'm starting to get cold."

It's a lie. The air is actually not that cold for a September night, but she’s hoping it’ll break the tension.

"Yeah, let’s go," he replies softly, nodding as he moves starts toward his car.

They slide into their seats, but, as Carmy's about to start the car, he pauses. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I just realized I kinda forced you to leave without even asking if you wanted to or not." 

Sydney shakes her head. "No, it's fine. We can go. My social battery is kinda dead anyway".

His jaw relaxes slightly, and he gives a small nod before starting the car.

They're silent for the rest of the ride. Carmy still seems a bit tense, gripping the steering wheel a little bit too tightly.

Sydney glances at him from the corner of her eye. Part of her wants to ask him where he disappeared for most of the evening, but she doesn't know if it's the right time. Plus, she's not stupid, she's almost certain he was with Claire. And she clearly doesn't want to hear Carmy talk about her.

She tries to tell herself she's only annoyed about him ditching her for the entire night. Again. But she'd be lying if she wasn't also annoyed at the possibility of Carmy and Claire getting back together. Not because she's jealous. Definitely not. But because she remembers how absent and distracted he was when he was dating her. And that was before The Bear opened. If he couldn’t handle balancing his personal life and work then, how much worse would it be now?

Fuck. For the first time, she's kind of regretting giving him another chance.

A few minutes later, Carmy pulls up in front of her building.

"Thanks for coming," he finally says, breaking the silence. "And I'm sorry for… you know."

"Disappearing again for most of the evening?" The words slip out before she can stop them. But then again, she promised herself to stop sugarcoating things with him and say what's on her mind.

He winces a little. "Uh, I was gonna say for my shitty family, but... yeah, that too."

She shrugs. "I'm used to it by now. Well, you disappearing, I mean. Your family is far from shitty."

Carmy runs a hand though his hair as his gaze drifts out the window, like he's trying to avoid her eyes. "Sorry, for leaving you alone. I- um, I ran into Claire on my way back from my smoke break and I hadn't seen her since Friends & Family, so she wanted to talk."

Oh, great. So she was right. He did abandon her at the wedding he invited her to for his ex-girlfriend.

"Oh, um, how did it go?" Fuck, why did she ask him that? It's not like she cares.

Carmy lets out a humorless laugh. "Pretty bad. Doesn't help that the Faks apparently went to her workplace and tried to convince her to give me another chance. She thought I sent them there, so she was really pissed."

"Did you?"

"What? No. Fuck no," he says immediately. "They probably thought they were doing me a favor or something."

Sydney takes a deep breath, steadying herself before asking the question that she's been wanting to ask the entire day. "Did you ask me to come because you wanted to make her jealous?"

He must've not expected the question because his head snaps toward her, his eyes wide. "What? No, I swear I didn't. I don't- I wouldn't do that to you. You know that, right?"

When she doesn’t respond, Carmy turns his gaze back to the window and adds in a low voice. "Plus, if it makes you feel better, things are definitely done between us."

"Oh, um, I'm sorry." The words feel hollow, and she knows it. If she's being honest, she’s not sorry at all. Call her petty, but she’s still mad he asked Claire for her opinion on their menu.

Carmy shakes his head. "It's better anyway. We just... we weren't right for each other. I'm a fucking mess. I just don't think I deserve to be in a relationship."

"Carm, don't say that," she says gently, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his eye.

"No, it's true. I'm fucking poison," he says with defeat, still avoiding her gaze.

This makes her realize there's so much she doesn't know or understand about Carmen Berzatto. She knows he has clearly some anxiety issues - who doesn't in this field of work - but she didn't expect him to think so lowly of himself. 

Sydney hesitates for a moment before finally saying, "Carm, don't take it the wrong way, but have you ever thought about therapy?"

He immediately shakes his head. "I- I don't think I can be helped."

She lets out a small sigh. "Listen, dude, I know you won't believe me, but you're not beyond help, okay? You just went through some bad stuff, and you just need to talk about it with a professional. There's nothing wrong in seeking some help."

He finally turns his eyes back toward hers, and she can see the vulnerability in them. He's silent for a minute, clearly taking in what she told him. Finally, he exhales and whispers, "Alright, I'll… I'll think about it."

"Good," she replies with a small, comforting smile. "And I know it's definitely not my place to say, but it really does seem like your mother is trying to apologize. She really just wanted to know how you were."

"Thanks, Syd, but I'm… I'm just not quite ready to talk about that yet, if you don't mind."

"Shit, sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, it's okay. I just… I just need more time, okay?" he replies softly.

"It's alright, I understand," she says gently. She glances at the clock on the dashboard before adding, "Okay, well... I should go, I guess."

"Yeah, don’t you have… um, what’s his name? Risotto to feed?" he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

She snorts, rolling her eyes. "Alright, fuck off. I had to come up with something quick, okay? I’m not good with improv."

He lets out a laugh. His first genuine laugh of the day. He's been so tense, it's actually nice to see him relax a bit.

"Thanks for coming," he says after a beat, his tone softer now, almost shy.

She shrugs, trying to downplay it. "Oh, you know me. If there's free food, I'm there."

He lets out another chuckle. "No, but seriously. Thank you for being there. You made it less boring."

The sincerity in his voice catches her off guard, and she can’t help but smile as she opens the car door. "Anytime, Carm. Goodnight, get home safe," she says before stepping out of the car.

"Goodnight, Syd," he replies, with a soft smile.

She turns back, her hand lingering on the doorframe, and their eyes meet for a moment. She lets herself hold his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before she giving him one last smile, closing the door softly, and walking to her building.

Maybe giving him another chance wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Text

"You free Monday evening?" Carmy asks one night after service.

"Um, yeah, why?" Sydney says, digging her jacket out of her locker.

"Remember Adam Shapiro, Ever's CDC? He just opened his own spot and invited me to the opening. Wanna come with me?"

Her fingers pause on the zipper. "Oh, uh, I don't know if it's a good idea," she says carefully, avoiding his gaze as she pretends to look for something in her tote bag.

She still hasn't told Carmy about Shapiro's offer. It’s not that she doesn’t want to - well, maybe she doesn’t - she just doesn't really know how to bring it up without it turning into a thing. She knows Carmy and she's 100% sure he'll start to overreact. And if she goes to the opening, the truth will inevitably come out.

"Come on," Carmy insists, leaning against the locker next to hers. "He told me I could bring someone, and I don't wanna go by myself."

"Can't you take someone else?" she asks, stalling.

"I mean, I could. But those things are less boring if you're there. Plus, I owe you one, so consider this as a gift. Shapiro’s good. The food’ll probably be worth it."

Sydney hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek. She would be lying if she said she wasn't curious about the menu. Shapiro’s a great chef, and she's sure his CDC is also good, but a small, petty part of her wonders if she could’ve done better.

"Plus, you said you never say no to free food," Carmy adds with a small smirk. 

She groans, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her lips betrays her with a smile. "Alright, fine. I'll come."

His smirk widens into a genuine smile. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah, sure, why not." She shrugs, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. "What time is the opening? Do they have, like, a dress code or whatever?"

"Um, 7 p.m. I'll send you the address. And he just said to dress nice."

"Okay, cool, heard," she replies with a small nod before closing her locker. She adjusts the strap of her bag before turning to Carmy. "You leaving soon? I can wait for you if you want."

"Uh, no, it's okay. There're a few things I still need to do."

"Carm," she says, giving him a pointed look.

While he's definitely been calmer at work - less manic, less like he’s on the verge of imploding - he's still overworking himself. Sydney has come to accept that this was his default setting. It’s like the guy doesn’t know what to do with himself if he isn’t buried in work. Some nights, she has to practically drag him out of the kitchen so he’ll get home at a reasonable hour and get some rest.

"I just need to reply to a few emails," he says, lifting his hands defensively. "I won't be long, I swear."

"Uh-huh," she mutters, raising an eyebrow but deciding not to push. He can be very stubborn, and she’s too tired to argue with him right now. "Okay, see you tomorrow, then."

"Night, Syd."

Pausing at the doorway, she spins back, pointing a warning finger at him. "And I want you out of this place in 15 minutes, tops, okay?"

He lets out a small chuckle. "I will. Promise. Get home safe, Syd."

She gives him a small smile and turns to leave.

The cold air hits her as soon as she steps outside. She pulls her jacket tighter around herself as she lets out a sigh. She really needs to say no sometimes. To set boundaries. She can't keep being his default plus-one to every event he's invited to. Especially when the first two times didn't go that great.

And yet, she finds herself hoping this time will be different. They do say that third time's the charm. So maybe this time he won't abandon her in the middle of the night. 

That'd be a first.

Sydney stands in front of her closet, hands on her hips, facing the same dilemma she had before the Ever funeral. What the fuck do you even wear for a non-date with your business partner? Should she wear something casual? But it's the evening, and it's a gastronomic restaurant, so she should maybe dress up.

She rolls her eyes at Carmy’s vague “dress nice” instruction. That could literally mean anything. She already always dresses nice.

Since it's the middle of October, and it's already cold, she finally settles for a long black skirt with a cute dark green sweater, pairing the outfit with a few pieces of jewelry. She ties her hair in a high ponytail, letting two braids frame her face. It's cute enough without looking too over the top.

By the time she finishes dressing up, she notices that she's already late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she mutters, grabbing her coat and purse in a frenzy before running out the door.

Thankfully, she manages to arrive at Shapiro's restaurant only five minutes late. She finds Carmy waiting for her outside, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette.

"Hey, sorry for being late," she says as she approaches him, slightly out of breath. "You could've waited for me inside, you know."

"It's okay, I was just finishing this," Carmy replies, holding up his hand to show the nearly finished cigarette before his gaze shifts to her. "You look nice."

Her face warms under his scrutiny. "Oh, uh, thanks. I didn't really know what to wear. You just said dress nice, so I wasn't sure if this would be okay."

His eyes flick down, then back up, and he nods. "No, you're good." His eyes linger on her a second longer before he moves, stubbing out his cigarette and tossing it into a nearby trash can. "Alright, let's go."

He steps forward and pulls the door open for her, his hand briefly resting against the small of her back as she steps inside.

Inside, they're immediately greeted by a sharply dressed waiter holding a clipboard in one hand.

"Berzatto, plus one," Carmy says. He still hasn't removed his hand from her back, and Sydney can feel the warmth of his palm through her clothes. She's half-convinced he's not even aware it's still there.

The waiter scans the guest list, nodding. "Right, Berzatto, table for two. Please follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto."

"Oh, we're not-" Sydney starts, but the waiter is already walking away to guide them toward their table.

She glances quickly at Carmy, who doesn't seem bothered by the mistake. Meanwhile, her cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

As they follow the waiter through the dining room, Sydney lets her eyes wander, taking in the space. The restaurant's atmosphere is cool, almost cold. It's minimalistic and not very welcoming. It definitely lacks personality.

"Here's your table," the waiter announces. He waits until Carmy and Sydney are settled in their seats to continue, "Tonight's menu is a six-course meal brought to you by Chef Shapiro and his team. The first dish will arrive very shortly. Have a great evening."

Now that they're finally alone at their table, Sydney realizes this is the first time they find themselves in a setting like this. She and Carmy have eaten out together plenty of times, but it’s always been casual: lunch spots, quick bites, nothing like this. The setup feels intimate, with a single candle flickering in the center. It almost feels… romantic.

She clears her throat, chasing those thoughts out of her head. "So, how long have you known Shapiro?" she asks, breaking the silence as a pair of waiters arrive with the first course.

"Uh, back when I worked at Ever. So, like," he pauses, and she can see that he's doing the math in his head, "7 years."

"You stayed long at Ever?"

He nods. "A year or so. Then Chef Terry offered to make some calls so I could go to Copenhagen and work at Noma."

Sydney's brows shoot up. "She did? Wow, that's such a nice gesture."

"Yeah, she's the best," he says with a small smile. "She did the same thing with Luca a few months later. That’s one of the things I always admired about her. Like, she was never upset when someone left Ever for something else. She’d actually encourage it. She wanted her team to be the best chefs they could be, even if it meant losing them."

Oh. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Carmy wouldn't have been mad or hurt if she had told him about Shapiro's offer.

Well, it's too late now. And she still doesn't regret her decision. But a small part of her is a little bit curious of how Carmy would've reacted. Would he have been mad? Sad? Indifferent? Guess she'll never know.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a voice coming from behind her. "Carmy! I'm so glad you're here."

"Adam," Carmy stands up to shake his hands. "Thanks for inviting us, the food is really good so far."

Carmy's not completely honest. Sure, that first dish was good, but not like the food they'd had at Ever. Like something is missing. It didn’t have that spark, that edge that made a dish linger in your mind long after you’d eaten it.

Shapiro’s eyes shift, noticing Sydney's presence. "Oh, Sydney!" he exclaims. "Didn't know you were gonna be here."

"Um, yeah, Carmy invited me as his plus-one," she replies with a polite smile. The last timethey spoke was when she told him she had decided to stay at The Bear. And he wasn't really happy with her decision.

"Oh, didn't know you guys knew each other," Carmy says with a slight frown between his brows as his eyes travel back and forth between her and Shapiro.

"Um, yeah, we talked briefly at the funeral," she lies, trying to sound casual.

Shapiro clears his throat. "Anyway, um, I hope you guys have a great time. It was nice to see you again, Carmy."

"Yeah, you too," Carmy replies.

When Adam is finally out of earshot, Carmy leans in and asks, "Am I crazy, or you guys were acting weird?"

She lets out an exaggerated scoff. "Weird? We weren't being weird."

He tilts his head, unconvinced. "Syd."

Fuck, there's no point in lying to him. They had promised each other to communicate more and be honest with each other instead of keeping everything inside. Plus, she'll have to talk about it at some point. Better now than him hearing about it from someone else.

She exhales, bracing herself for the conversation to come. "Okay, so, um, full disclosure. He, uh, he kinda, sorta offered me a job."

Carmy's eyes widen, his posture stiffening. "What? When?"

"Uh, last summer. A little bit after it was announced that Ever would close."

Carmy stays silent for a few seconds, taking in the information. "Wait, is this what you wanted to talk about the day before the funeral?"

Sydney hesitates, caught off guard by his memory. "Uh, yeah, kinda."

His jaw tightens. "So you were thinking of leaving?"

"Do you really want to have this conversation here?" she whispers sharply, trying not to raise her voice so the other tables wouldn't hear.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" he asks, ignoring her previous question.

"Because I knew you'd overreact. Like you are doing right now."

"Of course I'm overreacting, Syd! You just told me you were gonna leave The Bear," he snaps, his voice raising slightly, causing some other guests to look in their direction.

 Her chest tightens as she notices the flash of hurt in his eyes. Fuck, this is exactly why she didn't want to have this conversation with him.

"Okay, so I might have entertained the idea briefly. But I chose to stay, okay? And I finally signed the agreement. So I don't know why we're having this conversation," she says firmly. "Plus, you just said you admire Chef Terry for encouraging her team to leave her restaurant for a better career."

Carmy shakes his head. "Okay, no. That's completely different."

She narrows her eyes as she crosses her arms. "Oh, how so?"

"Because you- you're an important part of the restaurant. I- we need you."

Sydney opens her mouth to say something, but their conversation is interrupted by the waiter arriving with the second course. The tension at the table feels suffocating. She can barely focus on the waiter's explanation of the dish because she's too aware of the weight of Carmy’s gaze still fixed on her. Fuck, she knew coming to this thing was a bad idea.

When the waiter finally leaves, Carmy speaks, his voice quieter now, "Why did you?" 

She frowns, confused. "Why did I what?"

"Stay. I know I was being insufferable. I-" He exhales heavily as his eyes drop to the table, avoiding her gaze. "I'd have completely understood if you had decided to leave. I would have hated it, but I… I'd have understood," he finishes, his tone low and defeated. 

Sydney sighs, her fingers toying with the edge of her napkin. "Because I- I don't know. I put too much energy into it to quit after a few months." Her voice softens as she continues. "And… I guess, a part of me feels like this is, like, the one, you know? Like, this is where I’m supposed to be. I couldn't imagine doing this without you- I mean, all of you guys."

She looks at him, hoping to meet his eyes, but his gaze remains fixed on the table, his expression unreadable.

"Carm," she says gently as she leans forward slightly. It’s enough to pull his gaze back to hers, his blue eyes finally meeting her brown ones. She can see in his expression that he’s not entirely convinced by her words. "We're good, okay? We're back on track, the restaurant is doing great, and the team is thriving. I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, alright? So no need to talk about it further."

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers like he’s looking for reassurance. Finally, he nods slowly. "Okay. Alright."

Well, at least it went better than expected. Except now there's this awkward silence hanging between them, and, for the life of her, she can't find a good topic to change the mood. 

Thankfully, salvation arrives in the sound of a familiar British voice coming from behind her. "Carm! Nice to see you, man!"

Sydney turns just in time to see Luca approaching the table with a big smile.

"Hey Luca, how are you?" Carmy says, standing up to hug his friend. "You remember Sydney?"

"Of course, but I don't know if she remembers me since she doesn't reply to my texts," Luca says with a teasing grin as he turns to look at her.

Sydney playfully rolls her eyes as she stands up to give Luca a quick hug.

"Alright, don't be dramatic, dude. Your last text was literally yesterday."

Luca chuckles, and she can feel Carmy looking at them with slight confusion.

"You didn't tell me you'd be here," Luca tells her.

"Neither did you. You here alone?" 

"Nope, I'm with my sister," he replies, pointing at a woman with brown hair seated across the restaurant. Then he turns toward Carmy "So, how's the restaurant doing? I'm sorry I still haven't had time to visit. In my defense you guys are always packed."

"Oh, um, it's doing great. We made a few changes that seem to be working. But come whenever you want, man. We'll always have a table for you. You can also always come to stage if you want."

"Oh, Carm, I don't think you guys can afford me," Luca teases.

"Fuck off," Carmy laughs. 

"Alright," Luca says, glancing toward his table. "They're bringing the next course, so I better get back to my table. Have a good evening, guys. And Syd, I'll see you Sunday, yeah?"

"Yep," she replies with a smile, trying to ignore  Carmy's questioning gaze. "Say hi to your sister for me."

"Will do. Bye, guys!"

"Uh, yeah, bye Luca," Carmy replies, obviously confused by what Luca just said to her.

Carmy waits until Luca is back to his table before he clears his throat. "I, uh, I didn't know you guys were close," he says, reaching for his glass of water.

"Uh, yeah. We've been hanging out since the funeral," she replies with a small shrug.

He chokes on his water. "As- As in... dating?"

"What? Dude, no. As friends. Marcus is usually there too."

"Oh, okay." He seems somewhat relieved by her answer, and she tries to not read too much into it. "You just, um, you've never mentioned it."

She shrugs again. "I don't know, man, it just never came up."

Before Carmy can push further, their conversation is once again interrupted by the waiter bringing the next course. Sydney listens politely as the dish is introduced, grateful for the interruption. 

The rest of the evening is calmer, but the energy between them feels off. They stick to safe topics like restaurant updates, new menu ideas or critiques of the food in front of them. 

Speaking of the food, Sydney is overall not really impressed with it. It’s fine, technically well-executed, but it lacks something. It feels soulless compared to Chef Terry's food. She expected better from her former CDC.

So, all in all, not a great evening.

She's definitely had better dates. Not that this is a date.

By the time they step outside, the cool night air feels like a release. Sydney takes a deep breath and turns to him, breaking the awkward silence.

"Well… I think we can both agree that our food is better," she says, attempting to lighten up the mood between them.

And it seems to work because Carmy lets out a small laugh.

"Yeah, definitely," he replies, before fishing out a cigarette from its pack and shielding it with his hand as he lights it. "How did you come here?"

"Oh, uh, I took the L."

"Same," he says, exhaling a stream of smoke. "You mind if we walk together?"

"Sure," she shrugs, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Carmy finally says something.

"Sorry for almost making you leave," he whispers softly, his words barely audible over the distant sound of traffic.

She lets out a small sigh. "Carmy, I told you we don't have to talk about this."

But Carmy stops walking, forcing her to pause as well. She turns to face him, his expression serious and remorseful.

"I know," he says, voice a little stronger this time, "but I still want to apologize again for my behavior. This is as much your restaurant as it is mine, and I hate that I created an environment that made you feel like you had to leave."

Sydney is silent for a moment, studying his expression. He means it, she can tell, but the memory of those days still stings.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. But I need you to understand that this is probably the last chance I'm giving you. I'm not saying this to be mean or anything, I just want to be honest," she says, her tone firm.

Carmy nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. "Y- Yeah, I understand."

She starts walking again, and he falls into step beside her. After a few steps, Carmy speaks again, "I wanted to tell you, um, I'm seeing someone."

Her step falters a bit, and she hopes he didn't notice it. "As- As in dating?"

"No, um, I meant a therapist."

She tries to hide the wave of relief coursing though her. "Oh. Weird way of phrasing it," she says with a small laugh.

Carmy frowns. "Sorry. Is that not what people say?" 

"No, you're right, it is," she smiles. "So, how is it going?"

He lets out a long breath. "Fucking hard. Like, I knew I was pretty fucked up, but I didn't realize I was that fucked up."

"You're not fucked up, Carm."

Carmy tilts his head, giving her a disbelieving look.

"Okay, maybe you're a little fucked up," she admits. "But honestly, what chef isn’t? If we weren’t, we’d all be doing something else, right?"

He chuckles lightly. "Yeah, you're right." 

"Anyway, do you feel like it's helping you? The therapy, I mean."

"Um, it's hard to tell," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I’m definitely having fewer panic attacks, so that’s something. And my therapist gave me some homework that seems to help so far, I think."

"Homework?" 

"Yeah, like, trying to have a healthier lifestyle, finding a hobby, going out more. That sort of thing."

"That's good. I'm happy it's helping you," she smiles softly at him.

"Yeah," he says, returning her smile. "Who would've thought therapy actually works, huh?"

"I know, right?" she laughs, glad they seem to have found their rhythm again.

They fall into another stretch of silence, but this one doesn't feel uncomfortable like before.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs leading to the train station, Carmy suddenly stops, forcing her to do the same.

"Can I ask you something?" he starts, his tone hesitant, almost nervous. "And you can totally tell me to fuck off or say that my question is fucking dumb."

"Um, yeah, sure."

He hesitates for a few seconds before he asks, "Are we- Do you see us as friends?"

She looks at him, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

"Okay, this gonna sound weird but, uh…" He pauses, as if searching for the right words. "I've noticed that when I, um, when I ask a personal question, you kinda always dodge them."

Sydney frowns, caught off guard. She hadn't realized she did that. "I do?"

"Kinda, yeah," he admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. "I just- um, I just want you to feel like you can, like, talk to me about things. If you want to." When she doesn't reply right away, he continues, his face turning red. "Unless you'd rather our relationship stay strictly professional. Like, if you wanna set boundaries or whatever, I’d completely understand. And if- if I overshare too much or make you uncomfortable, I get it. Just… let me know."

She's left speechless, his vulnerability catching her off guard. For a moment, all she can do is stare at him, unsure how to respond.

She’s never truly taken the time to define what Carmy is to her. When she talks about him, she usually calls him her "business partner" because it’s easier. But deep down, she knows their relationship is deeper than that. He's definitely a friend, but their friendship is different from the one she has with Marcus or Natalie. It's more vulnerable. Carmy's seen parts of her she keeps hidden from most people. And she's seen his, too.

When the silence stretches on too long, Carmy’s expression shifts, as if he’s regretting the entire conversation. "Fuck, sorry. This was a stupid question. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, Carm," she rushes to reassure him. "It’s not stupid. I-" She pauses, searching for the right words. "I do see you as a friend. It’s just… it’s hard for me. Talking about my life. Letting people in. I’ve never been good at it."

It’s the truth, but not all of it. What Sydney doesn't say - what she can barely admit to herself - is that she's scared of what might happen if she lets him in. Because if she does, her feelings for him could develop into something more. Into something she’s not sure she’s ready to face.

Carmy’s gaze softens. "I get that. It’s hard for me too."

"Great. Look at us, two awkward and asocial losers," she teases, trying to defuse the intensity of the moment with humor.

Carmy barks out a laugh. "At least you’ve got friends you actually hang out with outside of work," he counters with a smile. "A while ago, I told someone that Fak was my best friend."

Sydney snorts. "Listen, if it makes you feel better, I told Luca the other day that my dad was my best friend, so…"

Carmy shakes his head, grinning now. "Fuck, you're right. We really are just two losers," he says, and they both laugh.

As they start moving again and climb the stairs that lead up to the platform, Sydney feels a strange warmth in her chest. For months, she’d been hoping for this. For Carmy to open up and allow himself to be vulnerable with her. And this conversation, awkward as it was, felt like a step toward that.

"Wait, don't you take the train that goes the other way? Shouldn't you go on the other platform?" she asks, stopping halfway up the stairs.

Carmy shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Yeah, but I don't mind waiting with you."

She feels her stomach doing a little flip, but she pushes the feeling aside and keeps climbing.

When they reach the platform, Sydney looks at the countdown clock indicating when the next train is going to be here.

"Alright," she says, turning to face Carmy. "The next train is gonna be here in 7 minutes. So… what do you wanna know?"

His brows furrow a little. "What?"

"If you wanna ask a personal question, now's the time."

He pauses, looking like he’s trying to choose the right question. After a few seconds, he finally asks, "Okay, um, do you sometimes regret being a chef?"

Sydney lets out a small laugh, surprised by the question. "Damn, I thought you were gonna ask about my favorite color or singer or something."

He shrugs. "I already know it's dark green and Beyoncé."

She blinks at him, not expecting him to be right. "Wait, I don't remember mentioning it."

"You didn't. But you wear a lot of dark green, and you also talk a lot about Beyoncé. Wasn’t hard to figure out."

"Oh," she mutters, a little thrown. Sometimes it freaks her out how observant Carmy can be about certain things. Like when he bought her that custom Thom Browne coat. It's like he knew Thom Browne was her favorite designer.

Clearing her throat, she tries to refocus on the main subject. "So, to answer your question, no, I don't regret it at all. Honestly, I've never really thought of doing anything else. My dad tried to convince me to at least consider a plan B, just in case this didn't work. But my mind was always set on cooking. Funnily enough, that was partially his fault. When I was, like, 6, he bought me this little kitchen set, and I was obsessed with it. I'd make all these fake dishes and bring them to him, and he’d act like I was serving him Michelin-star meals," she chuckles softly at the memory. "I guess I never wanted to do anything else after that. What about you?"

Carmy exhales, his eyes looking in the distance before he speaks. "Fuck, I don't know. Sometimes I think I should be doing something less stressful. But, honestly, it's probably the only thing I'm good at. Plus, I do love the creative side of it." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "If I regret anything, it’s the reason I started cooking in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"It's gonna sound fucking stupid, but I basically started cooking because I just wanted to be around Mikey and work with him at The Beef. And when he didn't want me there, I just needed to prove him I could be the best. Like… maybe then he’d want me around."

"And what happened when you ended up winning those 3 stars?"

"Retaining," he corrects, and she can't help rolling her eyes at him. "But he didn't care. He just… didn't want me around, I guess." His voice drops, the last words barely audible.

Her chest tightens. He doesn’t talk about Mikey much. It's clear that subject still cuts deep for him.

"Or maybe he didn't want to hold you back," she suggests gently.

"Maybe…" he murmurs, but it doesn't sound like he believes it. "Guess I'll never know."

He's silent for a few seconds, before he speaks again, his voice even quieter than before. "Do you- Do you regret staying?"

Sydney doesn’t hesitate. "No. Definitely not."

Her certainty seems to surprise him. His eyes snap back to hers, searching her face like he’s trying to make sure she means it. She can see the relief washing over him as he gives her a small smile.

"Good. I'm glad you stayed," he says, his voice soft. "I- I really wouldn't want to this without you. I mean it."

The sincerity in his voice makes her stomach flip unexpectedly. She holds his gaze for a beat, feeling the air between them shift. She wonders if he feels it too. When it starts to get too much, she turns to look at the clock. The next train will be here in a minute.

"So, um, we're gonna go get a drink on Sunday after service, Marcus, Luca, and me. You should come," she offers, trying to steer the conversation back toward safer ground.

His brows lift slightly in surprise. "Oh, I don't want to impose."

"You won't," she insists. "I'm sure they won't mind. Plus, it'll make me feel less like the third wheel. They're always talking about baking stuff."

He gives her a small, hesitant smile. "Alright, I'll think about it."

"Good," she replies, her voice drowned by the sound of the train arriving

As the train slows to a stop, Carmy glances at her. "Thanks for coming with me. I know I wasn't the best company," he says, his tone almost apologetic, as the doors of the train open.

"No, you were fine. And, hey, at least you didn't disappear in the middle of the night this time," she teases, stepping inside the train. 

He lets out a laugh. "Alright, I deserved that one. Get home safe, Syd." 

"You too, Carm," she replies just in time before the doors of the train close between them.

As the train pulls away, Sydney watches Carmy grow smaller in the distance, a small smile tugging at her lips. She doesn’t know exactly what, but she feels like something shifted between them. And for the first time in months, it feels like their relationship is finally progressing, growing into something else. Something that feels... new.

Chapter Text

"Fuck, I forgot I promised Sug I'd join her and Pete for lunch," Carmy mutters, checking the time on his phone.

It's Monday, and like most Mondays for the past few weeks, Sydney is at Carmy's place. Since their conversation after Shapiro’s restaurant opening, they’ve naturally started spending more time together (well, more than they already were, which was already a lot). They didn't really have to force it or even talk about it, it just happened naturally. 

Today is no different. They're in his kitchen, surrounded by various ingredients spread out on the counter, brainstorming and scribbling half-formed ideas on their notebooks. It’s early November, so they’re deep into planning the Christmas menu.

This is the part of the job she loves the most. Just her and Carmy in a kitchen, bouncing ideas back and forth, creating new dishes and tweaking flavors. It’s not just about the food, but also about the connection between them. The creative energy between them feels effortless lately, like they’re operating on the same wavelength.

It reminds her of how things were when they first started revamping The Beef into The Bear. When they spent entire days brainstorming in his apartment, just the two of them. But unfortunately, that part only lasted a few weeks until he got distracted by something - or someone - else. At least now, he seems completely focused on the restaurant. And, as far as she can tell, he’s not dating anyone, which means the odds of history repeating itself are pretty slim.

"Oh. I guess we'll work on that dish another time then?" Sydney says, trying to hide her disappointment.

They've been on a roll this morning, almost finishing the new Christmas menu. She’d been hoping to knock out the last dish today, but it looks like it'll have to wait.

"Yeah, I guess," he replies, running a hand through his hair. For a few seconds, he stands there, staring at the counter like he's lost in his thoughts. Then, he turns to her and asks, "You wanna come?"

"What?"

"Wanna come to lunch with me, Nat and Pete?" he asks again, his tone casual.

She blinks, caught off guard. "Oh, um, I don't want to impose or anything."

"You wouldn't be, they both love you," he reassures her with a small smile. "Plus, it's close to here, like a ten-minute walk tops. Which means we can come back here right after and finish the Christmas menu."

She hesitates. She really, really needs to learn to tell him 'no'. Because these non-dates - or whatever the hell they are - are getting harder to brush off. And it's becoming harder and harder for her to move past that stupid crush. 

Because that's what this is. Just a stupid crush. Definitely nothing more.

"Also, they'll bring Clara. You're telling me you don't wanna see her?" Carmy adds with a smirk. 

"Ugh, it's actually cruel to play with my feelings like that," she groans, already feeling herself caving. Carmy is well aware how obsessed she is with Natalie and Pete's baby girl. The way Clara’s face lights up when she sees Sydney? It’s unfair how much joy it brings her. And Carmy knows it.

"So?"

She lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes for effect. "Okay, fine."

A grin spreads across Carmy's face, and the warmth it sparks in her chest only reinforces how doomed she is.

Well, guess she'll learn to say 'no' another time.

"Okay, let's clean this up real quick 'cause we're already late," Carmy says as he starts gathering the scattered ingredients on the counter.

They move in sync, like they always do, wiping down surfaces, rinsing utensils, and putting away ingredients. Once they're done, they quickly slip on their shoes and coats. As they head toward the door, Sydney pauses, brushing her hands over her face and sweater.

"Okay, how do I look? I don't have sauce on my face or anything?" she asks, turning toward Carmy.

Carmy pauses, his eyes flickering to her face, lingering for way longer than necessary.

"So?" she presses, waiting for him to say something.

"Um, n- no. You look good," he stammers, the top of his ears turning a little pink. He clears his throat, looking away as he moves to open the front door. "Alright, um, let's go."

After a short walk in the cold weather, they arrive at the restaurant. Natalie and her family are already seated at a table near the window, with Pete gently bouncing baby Clara on his knee, her tiny hands flailing in the air.

"Hey, Sug. Sorry, we're a bit late," Carmy says, moving to hug his sister.

"Hey, Bear," Natalie hugs him back, her brow furrowing slightly at his use of 'we'. She glances over his shoulder and spots Sydney standing just behind him.

"Oh, and I guess Syd is here too?" Natalie says, arching an eyebrow at her brother. There’s no edge in her tone, but the way her lips twitch into a small smirk makes it clear she’s clocked something unspoken.

"Uh, yeah. We were working on the Christmas menu at my place, so I asked her if she wanted to join us. Hope you don't mind."

Sydney shifts awkwardly on her feet. "I can go if you guys want. I don't wanna impose on your family lunch." 

"No, don't be stupid, Syd," Natalie says warmly, stepping forward to give her a quick hug. "You're basically family. Plus, this'll be fun. Like a double date."

Sydney’s breath catches, her mind stuttering at the implication before she can form a reply.

"Sug," Carmy says in with a warning tone as he pulls out the chair across from his sister.

"What?" Natalie replies with a mischievous grin as she settles back into her seat. The siblings exchange a look, and Sydney can’t help but feel like she’s watching a conversation that isn’t being spoken aloud.

Sydney smiles awkwardly, and turns to Pete, who greets her with his usual cheerful energy.

"Hey, Pete," she says, leaning in for a quick hug before her eyes land on baby Clara. "Hey there, baby girl," she coos, tickling the baby's tummy.

The four-month-old lets out a high-pitched squeal and starts flailing her tiny arms as soon as she recognizes Sydney.

"Damn, I'm starting to think she loves you more than me," Carmy jokes.

"Well, duh. Obviously," Sydney teases, sticking out her tongue at him before taking the seat next to him.

After the server collects their orders, Natalie turns to her brother.  "So, Mom told me you went to visit her this weekend."

"You did?" The words escape Sydney's lips before she can think about it. While they’ve both started sharing more about their personal lives, the topic of his mother is still sensitive.

Carmy's eyes quickly meet hers before he turns his attention to his sister. "Uh, yeah. I found a box of some of her old stuff in the basement of the restaurant, so I thought I could bring it to her."

"So, how did it go?" Natalie asks.

Carmy clears his throat. "Better than expected. But weird. I haven't been in that home since... since a while. I didn't stay long, I needed to go back to the restaurant. But I told her I'd try to swing by another time."

Oh, so that explains why he seemed a little anxious at work a few days ago. He had this slight furrow in his brow - the one he usually had when he's preoccupied by something - the entire afternoon,  and it didn’t go away even when service ran smoothly. She'd wanted to ask him about it, but she figured he'd tell her when he's ready. 

"We can go together next time if you want?" Natalie offers softly.

"Yeah, sure. Just- baby steps, okay?"

Sydney shifts on her seat awkwardly. She feels like she’s eavesdropping on a conversation she has no business hearing. Even Clara, usually a ball of energy, stares at her uncle with wide, curious eyes. Pete, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, like heavy discussions about the Berzatto matriarch are just another Tuesday for him.

Natalie breaks the tension, turning to Sydney with a glint in her eye. "By the way, Syd, I don't know what you told Mom at the wedding, but she seems to like you."

Sydney blinks. "Really? We barely talked. I was convinced she hated me."

"Oh, no," Pete cuts in with a laugh, his grin widening as he points between her and Carmy. "She's convinced you two are together."

Sydney's eyes widen. "What?!" she squeaks, her voice higher than she’d like. She notices Natalie throwing a look at her husband, clearly signaling he wasn't supposed to let that slip.

"Alright, maybe Sydney doesn't want us to hear us talk about our mother for the entire meal," Carmy mutters, his face turning red, clearly eager to steer the conversation anywhere else.

Thankfully, Clara chooses that moment to gurgle and coo, waving her tiny fists as if to demand everyone’s attention.

"So, how's parent life? Is she finally letting you sleep?" Sydney asks, grateful for the distraction, even though she could still feel her cheeks burning.

Pete beams, his face lighting up at the mention of his daughter.  "Honestly, we're pretty lucky. She's an angel," he replies, looking fondly at Clara as if she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Then, he pauses, sniffing the air, and his expression shifts to a grimace. "Although, she might need changing. Be right back." With Clara nestled in his arms, he stands and heads toward the bathroom.

Sydney watches them go, shaking her head with a small smile. "Pete seems to have this dad thing handled."

"Oh, he's so great, it's almost annoying," Natalie jokes. "By the way, Bear, you're still good to babysit her next Monday, right?"

Carmy nods. "Uh, yeah, sure. Just let me know what time you need me at your house."

"You sure you can handle it? I can call a sitter if you're scared," Natalie suggests.

"No, I'm not scared. I mean, maybe a little. But it'll be fine. I think."

"I can come help if you want." Sydney offers.

"Yeah? You don't mind?" Carmy asks, his eyes darting to hers, a flicker of relief softening his expression. 

She shrugs. "I babysat a lot when I was younger, so I'm pretty good at it. Plus, let's be honest, we both know Clara loves me the most."

Carmy laughs. "Fuck off."

Sydney raises her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just stating the truth, dude."

Natalie silently watches their exchange with a knowing smile before she cuts in. "Great, it's settled, then! Thanks, Syd, you're a life saver."

"And not me? Your brother who offered first."

Natalie shrugs with a smirk. "I mean, that's like your duty as an uncle."

Carmy rolls his eyes. "You're lucky Clara is cute, and I can't say no to her."

"Of course she's cute. She's got that Berzatto gene. Oh my God, Syd, have I ever shown you pictures of Carm when he was a toddler? He was so fucking adorable," Natalie says, fishing for her phone in her purse, clearly on a mission.

"Sug, don't you dare," her brother warns her.

Natalie ignores him completely, her grin widening as she goes through her photos. "Come on, look how cute he was," she says, turning her phone toward Sydney. On the screen is an old photo of two kids - definitely Natalie and Carmy - standing side by side. Carmy, who looks like he's about one year old, is looking at the camera with a wide toothless smile.

Sydney takes Natalie's phone in her hand to look at the picture closer. "Oh my God, you guys were so cute! Look at you with your little overalls, Carm," she teases, turning the phone to show him.

Carmy's face is completely red by now. "Alright, enough of that." He gently snatches the phone from her hands. "Why do you even have that on your phone, Sug?" 

"'Cause it's fun to torture you," his sister smirks, taking her phone back.

Before Carmy can reply, his own phone starts ringing.  "Oh fuck. It's our meat vendor. I gotta take this. I'll be right back," he says, standing up. Before he answers the call,  he points a warning finger at Natalie. "Sug, you better not think of showing any more pictures while I'm gone."

Natalie rolls her eyes, setting her phone down on the table. "Alright, I won't."  She waits until Carmy steps out of the restaurant before she turns to Sydney. "So, how the Christmas menu going?"

"Pretty great. Still some things we need to tweak, but we’re almost there."

"That's great! And, I wanted to tell you, I'm so glad that guys seem to be spending so much time together lately. I know he was a total pain in the ass last summer, so it's nice to finally see you guys collaborating again," Natalie says with a warm smile.

"Yeah, he finally pulled his head out of his ass and stopped being insufferable, so…" Sydney trails off with a shrug. "Guess therapy really helps."

"Definitely," Natalie nods. "By the way, Carm told me it was you who convinced him to go to therapy, so thank you so much for that."

"Oh, I didn't really do anything. It was just a suggestion."

"Yeah, but I've been suggesting the same thing for a while, and he never listened to me. Maybe hearing it from you had more impact."

Sydney frowns slightly. "Oh, I don't know about that. Honestly, I didn't think he'd actually listen to me."

Natalie raises an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised how much he does. Pretty sure you're the only reason he's even trying to get that star in the first place."

She blinks, a little thrown off. "What? You think so?"

Natalie shrugs. "I mean, he's always been pretty clear he didn't care about stars. Then, out of nowhere, it's all he talks about. It’s like he needs to prove you that he can get one."

"I mean, to be fair it's great publicity to have a star," Sydney counters, trying to downplay the implications.

Natalie shakes her head. "No, I know Carm, and he definitely doesn't care about publicity."

Sydney glances out the window, her eyes landing on Carmy standing just outside the restaurant, speaking animatedly on the phone. As if he sensed her eyes on him, he turns his head, meeting her gaze. He gives her a small smile, the kind that makes her pulse stutter.

She's never really questioned why he changed his mind about getting a star after Friends & Family. Honestly, she wants one so badly that she was just glad that he finally agreed on getting one. That is before he turned into an insufferable perfectionist and imposed that stupid list of non-negotiables that had driven everyone, especially herself, insane.

But now, she can't stop thinking about what Natalie just said. Because if she’s the reason for Carmy’s obsession with the star, then maybe she’s also indirectly responsible for his insane behavior.

No, that’s ridiculous. Natalie’s exaggerating, she has to be.

"He also told me about Shapiro's offer. I hope you don't mind." Natalie says gently, interrupting her thoughts.

Sydney’s head turns back toward Natalie. "Oh. Yeah... Sorry I didn't tell you about it. I didn't want you guys to freak out or something."

Natalie offers her a soft smile. "I get it. But honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t leave. I don't think the team would've handled it. Especially Carm."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Sydney replies, trying to brush it off.

Natalie fixes her with a pointed look. "Syd, you should've seen him after you left The Beef. Literally a few days later, he nearly set the kitchen on fire."

Her jaw drops. "He what?"

"Yeah. And he'd walk around the place like a zombie for days. It was pretty pathetic, honestly," Natalie adds with a small laugh. She pauses, leaning forward slightly, lowering her voice. "Listen, maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but the reason he told me about Shapiro's offer is because he's scared you're not satisfied at The Bear. He just has this constant fear that you're gonna leave the restaurant."

Her eyes widen. "What?" This is not exactly a surprising news since they talked about it at Shapiro's restaurant opening. But Sydney had been so sure Carmy had finally believed her when she said she wasn’t planning on going anywhere. But it looks like he still doesn't believe her.

"I know," Natalie says, shrugging lightly. "I told him he was overthinking it. But you know how he is."

Before Sydney can respond, Pete returns to the table, Clara in his arms. "Sorry, there was a line for the baby changing station," he explains, settling into his seat. Then he looks at Sydney, grinning. "Wanna take her?" he asks, talking about his daughter in his arms.

"Oh my God, yes," Sydney replies, immediately standing up to take Clara from him. She sits back, the baby immediately settles into her lap, tiny hands already reaching for her braids.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Pete asks.

"I was just about to show Syd more embarrassing pictures of Carm," Natalie replies with a mischievous grin as she reaches for her phone again.

"No, you were not," Carmy's voice cuts in as he reappears at the table, giving his sister a pointed look before he slides back into his seat.

Natalie rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his protest. "Fine. Syd, you'll have to come over sometime soon to see the rest."

"Sug, I swear to God," her brother warns, but there's no bite in it. Sydney bites back a smile as she watches the familiar back-and-forth between the siblings.

Suddenly, Clara starts wriggling in Sydney’s lap, her tiny hands stretching toward Carmy, demanding his attention.

"Hey, Bear. You okay?" he says softly to his niece, leaning closer to let her grab his finger. Sydney tries to ignore the flutters in her stomach at the sight of Carmy with his niece.

"Aw, you guys look so cute like that," Natalie comments, pulling out her phone. "Hold on, lemme take a photo of you three."

Carmy rolls his eyes but still scoots closer, his arm naturally settling on the back of Sydney’s chair, his other hand still held by his niece. The sudden proximity makes Sydney hyper-aware of him. He's so close she can feel the heat radiating from his body, or smell the faint scent of his cologne.

Natalie snaps the photo, then turns her phone to show them. "Aw, look at you guys."  And she’s right, it’s a cute picture. The way Clara’s tiny hand is curled around Carmy’s finger, the soft smile on their faces, Carmy's arm around her. Staring at it, Sydney can't ignore that they do look like a couple.

Just as her heart does that weird fluttering thing again, the waiter arrives with their plates, forcing Carmy to move his chair to its original place.

But even as she picks up her fork, her mind drifts back to Natalie’s words from earlier. She really needs to have another talk with Carmy. 

The rest of the lunch goes by pretty fast, the conversation flowing easily. It's nice to see Natalie and Pete outside of work. With everyone focused on keeping the restaurant afloat, and Natalie and Pete adjusting to life as new parents, moments like this have been rare. The last time Sydney saw them outside of work was probably at Tiff's wedding.

After a quick goodbye, Sydney and Carmy make their way back to his apartment.

"Thanks for coming with me," Carmy says once they step into his place, closing the door behind them.

"Thanks for inviting me. It was fun," she replies as she unzips her puffer jacket. "Do you guys do this often?"

"Uh, yeah, we try to meet up outside work at least once a week. I'm just trying to be a better brother, you know?"

"It's nice that you guys have each other." While Sydney has never minded being an only child, she sometimes envies the bond Carmy and Natalie have. It's something she'll never experience. 

"Yeah. She's done so much for me, and I... I can't really say the same. I’m just trying to make up for it, I guess." His voice trails off. Then, as if shaking it off, he clears his throat. "Anyway, want a coffee before we get back to work?"

"Yeah, please," she says, plopping down on his couch with an exhausted sigh.

A few minutes later, Carmy reappears with two small cups, setting them carefully on the coffee table.

"Thanks! Did you-"

"Yes I put some sugar in yours," he cuts in with a smile, already anticipating her question. 

"Oh. Thanks." She picks up her cup and takes a sip, and of course he put just the right amount. "Okay, so, um, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah, shoot," he replies, reaching for his coffee cup.

She hesitates, then takes a breath. "Um, Nat mentioned something about... about you potentially trying to get a star just because I want one."

When Carmy doesn't say anything, she pushes, "Is that true?"

"I mean... yeah. Kinda."

She lets out a sigh. "Carm."

"What?" he asks defensively.

"You're telling me you put yourself through all that and set those dumb standards, for something you don't even care about?"

"Yeah, but you want one and I car-" he interrupts himself before adding, "I thought that's what you wanted."

"No, I want to have one together."

"And that's not what we're doing?"

"Now? Yes. But a few months ago, it felt like you were trying to get it on your own."

"Syd, I told you that getting a star is hard and soul-crushing. I didn't want you to have to go through that."

Sydney narrows her eyes. "So, what? You thought it was better to take on all the responsibility yourself."

He hesitates, then nods. "Yeah."

She lets out a frustrated sigh. "Carm, one of the reasons I almost left was because I don't want to be in your shadow. I want to be your partner. Your equal."

"And you are."

"Maybe now," she concedes. "But back in July? You were completely ignoring all my input. It was hard enough when most critics would only mention you in their article. Like, I felt invisible in my own restaurant."

Carmy shakes his head quickly. "You'll never be invisible to me, Syd."

"That's not the point," she says, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest caused by his words. "I just felt underused. And if The Bear ever gets a star, I want it to be because we worked together. All of us."

He nods slowly, guilt written all over his face. "Yeah I understand that now." He pauses, letting out a breath. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I keep fucking up. I just... I didn't want you to leave, and I thought this was what you wanted. Turns out, it's what almost made you leave."

"That's because you never asked, dude. Not once. You always assume or misinterpret what I want."

He lifts his head, meeting her eyes. "Okay, so what do you want?"

"I just want to make good food with a team of good people who are happy to be here. That's it. If we get a star, great. If we have to wait a few years, that's okay too. As long as the restaurant is still standing, I'm good."

Carmy studies her for a beat, then nods. "Okay, heard."

"What about you? What do you want?"

He blinks. "Uh?" 

She places her empty espresso cup on the coffee table, and shifts on the couch to face Carmy fully, tucking one leg under the other as she meets his eyes. "It’s a partnership, Carm. If I can tell you what I want from you, then you should be able to do the same. So, what do you want?"

He hesitates, his lips parting slightly. "I..." he starts, but trails off as if he can't find the words. For a moment, he just stares at her, like he's looking for an answer in her eyes.

And then, his expression shifts subtly, like a sudden revelation has dawned on him. His pupils widen slightly, and she swears she sees his gaze flick down to her lips.

The air between them feels electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniably there. And then, almost imperceptibly, Carmy leans in, his movements slow, tentative, like he’s testing the waters of a dangerous idea.

Her heart is pounding so loudly she's sure he can hear it. She doesn’t move, unsure whether to meet him halfway or stay perfectly still. And then-

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The melody of his ringtone shatters the moment, the sound hitting like a slap. Sydney jumps, the spell broken. Carmy pulls back abruptly, cursing under his breath. 

"Fuck, sorry," he mutters, fumbling for his phone. He glances at the screen then answers. "What do you want, Cousin?" he snaps, standing up from the couch.

Sydney stays frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her mind is spinning, replaying the moment over and over.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was he about to kiss her? She didn't imagine it, right?

Her thoughts are so loud she can barely register Carmy’s voice in the background, talking to Richie over the phone. 

She needs to leave. Like, right now. Because if she stays here, there are high chances that she'll kiss him. And it terrifies her. Not because she doesn’t want it, but because she’s not sure if she’s ready to take that step of not. Because this could be a huge risk for their partnership, but also for the restaurant and everything they’ve worked so hard to build. 

She needs some time alone to think about this.

Swallowing hard, she stands abruptly and starts gathering her things, grabbing her jacket and slipping on her shoes.

"You're leaving?" Carmy’s voice comes from behind her, and she freezes. She hadn’t even heard him end the call.

She turns to face him. Fuck, he looks disappointed. It makes her chest ache, but she doesn’t trust herself to stay. Not now.

"Uh, yeah," she says, forcing a smile as she puts on her jacket. "I gotta go. I, um, I just remember I have to bring something to my dad."

Carmy looks at her, confused. "Oh. Did I-"

"We'll- we'll work on that dish next week, okay?" she interrupts him quickly. She knows what he was about to ask. 'Did I do something wrong?' And she wouldn't know what to say. Because he definitely didn't. The problem isn’t him, it’s her. She’s the one freaking out over something that hasn’t even happened yet.

"Uh, yeah sure," he replies, his voice low. Oh, God, she feels awful. He looks hurt. Like a kicked puppy or something.

"Alright, um, see you tomorrow," she mumbles quickly. And before he can say anything else, she opens the door and flees his apartment.

She exhales shakily as soon as the door shuts behind her, her hand gripping the strap of her tote bag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

"Hey," Sydney says as she steps into Carmy's apartment the moment he opens his front door. "Sorry I'm late. There was an incident in the L," she continues, while shrugging off her jacket and kicking off her sneakers.

For a couple of weeks after their almost-kiss, Sydney had tried her best to avoid being alone with Carmy in his apartment, sticking instead to The Bear's kitchen, a safer and neutral ground.

Still, things between them have been a bit awkward since that day. Now, they both try to avoid making eye contact for too long, and their movements around each other are more careful, like they're trying to keep a safe distance. And, when their hands accidentally brush, they both pull back like they’ve been burned, mumbling apologies that only make the tension worse. If the others have noticed, they are kind enough not to say anything. Though, Sydney has sometimes caught Richie smirking in a way that makes her suspicious.

Now, almost a month has passed, and Carmy hasn't tried to make another move. Sydney thinks that he maybe came to his senses. Which means she probably lost her chance with him. And maybe it was for the best. They work together every day. He probably would’ve grown sick of her within weeks.

So when Carmy invited her to come over on the evening of their shared day off, she didn't question anything. She assumed he wanted to work on the final touches before the Christmas menu or brainstorm new ideas. There was no reason to think it was anything else.

Carmy closes the door behind her. "It's okay, you're just in time. Please, uh, go take a seat. I'll be right back," he says, a little nervously, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Sydney blinks, a little confused by his words. As she moves further into his apartment, something feels... different. The space is dimly lit, warmer than usual. And then, her eyes land on the table in the living room. It's already neatly set, with a bouquet of flowers in the center.

Then, Carmy comes back in the living room, carrying two plates. It's only now that she notices that he's wearing an ironed white button-up shirt and his usually wild hair is slightly combed.

And then it clicks.

Oh, fuck.

"Wait. Is this-" she hesitates, gesturing toward the table, "Is this a date?" 

Carmy blinks at her as he settles the plates on the dining table. "Uh, yeah," he replies, his voice careful. "Did I- Did I not specify that?"

Sydney stares at him. "Um, no, dude. Not really. I believe you said, 'Do you mind coming over on Monday evening?'" she says, trying - and failing - to mimic his voice. "That wasn't exactly clear."

His eyes widen, his face turning a deep shade of red. He looks completely mortified. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. I- I- I kinda panicked, I barely even remember what I said. If- if this is weird for you, I get it. If you don’t want this to be a date, we can just ign-"

"No," she blurts out, cutting him off. "I- um I actually don't mind. I mean, I want it to be a date. It's just..." She groans, screwing her eyes shut. "Oh, God, this is so stupid."

"What?"

She opens her eyes and looks down at her outfit. "Fuck, I feel underdressed. You look all nice and dressed up, and I probably look like shit."

She's wearing an oversized sweater that has a stain from the coffee she drank earlier that day, and some basic thrifted jeans. Her hair is barely holding together in a messy bun she’d twisted up hours ago. This is not how she imagined showing up to her first official date with Carmy.

Carmy shakes his head immediately, his expression softening. "No, you definitely don't,"  he says softly. His eyes meet hers with an intensity that makes her breath catch. "You look... You look beautiful."

The way he says it makes her heart stutter, and she feels her face heat up even more.

"Listen," he begins, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "I- I know I made things weird the last time-"

"No, no, you didn't," she cuts him off, shaking her head. "It was all me. I started freaking out for no reason. Honestly, I... I kinda regret leaving so abruptly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But at that time, I thought I needed some space to think. To be sure about... this," she says, gesturing between them.

"And now you're sure?" he asks, searching her face.

She nods, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. To be fair, I was sure, like, the next day. But I didn't know how to bring it up. And when you didn’t say anything either, I thought maybe... I don’t know, maybe you’d moved on."

Carmy shakes his head. "No, I definitely didn't. I just thought I made you uncomfortable. Or like… maybe that was your way of letting me down easy or something."

Sydney stares at him for a few seconds before letting out a snort. "Wow, we are really dumb, huh?"

He lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, we really are. But..." He pauses for a beat, his eyes meeting hers again. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

She gives him a shy smile. "Me too."

For a moment, they’re both silent, just staring at each other, with the dumbest smile on their faces. 

Then, Carmy clears his throat, breaking the spell, shifting his gaze to the dining table. "So, um, please take a seat. I'm just gonna go grab some water. Do you want some wine or something?"

Sydney hesitates, glancing at the table. Maybe a glass of wine would help calm her nerves. But Carmy doesn’t drink, and he’s clearly just as on edge as she is. If he’s going to be nervous, then she might as well share in the discomfort.

"Uh, no, I'm good," she finally replies.

As he disappears into the kitchen, she sits in one of the chairs, letting out a slow exhale to calm her nerves. Her eyes drift around the apartment, taking in the changes he's made since the last time she was here. His place looks much better than it did at the beginning of the year. She remembers how empty and lifeless it used to be. Now, a few paintings decorate the walls, and the usual pile of cookbooks on the floor has been replaced by a bookshelf where all the books are neatly classified by cuisine.

Carmy comes back in the room, a bottle of water in hand, and slides into the chair across from her. He seems even more nervous than before.

She smiles, trying to ease the tension. "I, uh, I noticed you got a bookshelf," she says, gesturing toward it.

"Oh, um, yeah. Another assignment from my therapist. Something about making my apartment feel like a home."

"Well, this is nice. It actually looks like someone lives here now," she teases.

"Fuck off," he laughs. "It wasn't that bad."

She gives him a pointed look. "Dude, you had jeans in your oven."

"Okay, fair," he concedes with a chuckle.

Their laughter fades into an awkward silence as they start eating. Sydney tries to think of something else to say, but she's so nervous, her brain can't come up with anything.

"Is this weird?" Carmy asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I mean... yeah, a little. But, like, good weird," she admits, smiling softly.

He exhales, relieved. "Yeah. In my defense, I don't think I've ever been on any first date."

"You haven't?" 

"Nope. So, uh, I don't really know how to do this."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," she leans forward slightly, like she's about to let him in on a secret, "I've been on a few first dates, and I still don't know how to do this."

"Oh, fuck. Guess we're doomed, then," he jokes.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Come on, it's not like we've never had dinner together one-on-one before."

"Yeah, but this is different," he says, his tone softening. His blue eyes lock on hers, steady and intense, and she feels her breath catch for a moment.

"Yeah. It is," she murmurs with a small smile, feeling her heart-rate speed up. When it starts to feel too much, she drops her gaze to her plate. "Alright, so... tell me about this first dish," she says, knowing full well that talking about food will calm their nerves.

The dish is a fennel salad with thinly sliced nectarines, sprinkled with crushed almonds and some fennel flowers that add a dash of yellow to the dish.

"It's inspired by a dish I learned while I was at Noma," Carmy explains. "I don't know, I just remembered that your first dish at The Beef was a fennel salad, so I thought it'd be fitting for the entrée."

"Oh." She blinks, caught off guard. She barely remembers making that dish. She'd been so anxious back then, desperate to prove to Carmy that she deserved to be working with him. "Well, it's delicious," she says sincerely.

"Thanks," he replies with a shy smile.

She can feel her heart flip, the warmth of his smile doing something to her she can’t quite explain. Talking about food was supposed to be a safe option, but she forgot that with Carmy, food wasn’t just food. It's also a language for him, a way to express himself.

She clears her throat, needing a distraction. "So, how was working Noma? Bet it was amazing to work there."

"It really was. Chef Redzepi is just incredible. I mean, the entire team was. Everyone there was so nice, so welcoming. And crazy creative, too. I learned so much there."

As he talks, Sydney can see his face light up in a way it rarely does when he talks about past work experiences.

"And what about Copenhagen? Did you like living there?"

His smile widens even more. "Yeah, I loved it. It's definitely the most beautiful place I've ever seen. The colors, the architecture, the canals - it was like living in a painting. Also, I lived on a boat - actually, it was the same boat I sent Marcus to - so that was pretty cool."

"The one with the invisible cat?"

"Yep, that one. Coco. I fed the little fucker every day, but he'd only come out when I wasn't there," he chuckles. "But yeah, it was a great experience. Felt good to be out of the country for a while, you know?"

"I bet. I've actually never left the U.S. Never had the opportunity. My dad hates flying, so the furthest we ever went together was Miami to visit my aunt."

Carmy nods, his expression softening. "Is there a place you'd love to visit?"

"Well, Nigeria. Obviously," she replies without hesitation. "I'd love to take my dad there someday. He’s always talked about it, but it just... never happened."

"Well, it's never too late," he says gently.

"Yeah," she murmurs, smiling faintly. "But realistically? I don’t have the money or the time for that right now."

"I mean, we could always sell the restaurant and then travel across the world with the cash," he offers with a teasing smile.

Sydney snorts, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, wouldn't that be nice? But you forgot the part where we still owe Jimmy a shit-ton of money."

Carmy chuckles. "True. He’d probably track us down before we even made it to the airport."

The conversation flows more easily after that, their earlier tension fading as they finish the fennel salad. When they’re done, Carmy collects their plates and disappears into the kitchen to finish the main course.

Left alone, Sydney exhales slowly, leaning back in her chair. It feels surreal being here, on a date with Carmy. An actual date. You'd think after all the late nights, the endless hours of working side by side, and those awkward non-dates, she'd be prepared for this. But she’s not. If anything, she’s probably more nervous than she’s ever been. Because if this date goes well, then everything changes. It would mean stepping into uncharted territory, into something new. And the anticipation is killing her.

Trying to shake the nervous energy, she stands, her gaze drifting around the room. She walks to his bookshelf, her fingers brushing along the spines of the cookbooks. But it’s not the books that catch her eye, it’s the small collection of photos scattered across the shelves. 

The first one she notices is an old picture of the three Berzatto siblings standing in front of The Beef. Mikey is in the middle, his arms draped protectively over his younger siblings’ shoulders, all of them grinning at the camera. Carmy looks like he's around 13, Natalie's probably 16 and Mikey around his mid-twenties.

Her eyes drift to another frame. A photo of The Bear's team taken a few weeks ago  for a food magazine feature. She and Carmy are standing close in the center, surrounded by the rest of the crew. Richie has his arm draped tightly over Tina’s shoulder, Marcus is mid-laugh, and Neil has his eyes closed. It’s imperfect and messy, just like The Bear itself, but there’s so much joy in it that Sydney can’t help but smile.

Then her eyes land on one familiar picture. It's the one Natalie had taken during their "double-date" last month. She and Carmy are sitting close at a table, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair and Clara perched on her lap, staring up at her uncle with curious eyes while holding his hand. Sydney picks up the frame, studying it closely, a soft smile spreading on her face. Seeing it here, in Carmy's space, makes her stomach flip. She hadn't expected him to have it printed.

"Nat printed a few photos the other day and gave me that one," Carmy’s voice comes from behind her, startling her slightly. She turns to see him standing in the doorway with two plates in hand. "I hope you don't mind."

"I mean, it's a little weird," she deadpans, putting the frame back in its place.

His eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. "Oh. Fuck, sorry. I can- I can remove it if you want or if it's-"

She bursts out laughing. "Relax, I'm fucking with you, dude," she grins, walking back to her seat.

He exhales before laughing along, shaking his head. "Fuck off," he mutters, unable to hide his smile as he approaches the table. "Okay, so... I'm kinda nervous about this next dish because it was the first dish I created, and I haven't made it in a while."

When Carmy sets the plate in front of her, Sydney freezes, recognizing the dish immediately.

"So this is paup-"

"Paupiette of hamachi with blood orange," she breathes, finishing his sentence, her voice filled with awe. How could she forget? It was the best dish she’d ever tasted. The one she couldn’t stop thinking about for months after. The one that brought her to Carmy.

Carmy freezes, looking at her with a mix of surprise and confusion. "Um, yeah. How- how did you know?"

She hesitates for a second before deciding to just tell him. "Uh, I kinda already had it."

He looks even more confused now, sliding in his seat. "What? How? It's an original dish. And I'm sure I've never made it at The Bear."

"Yeah, no, um, it wasn't at the Bear. I actually... I dined at Empire years ago, right after I graduated from the CIA. Didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think I was, like, some kind of stalker or something since this was when you were working there. Anyway, um, this was one of the dishes served that night," she adds, pointing at the plate in front of her. "I even asked the waiter the name of the chef who made it, and they said it was you."

The frown between Carmy's eyebrows deepens. "But that's not possible. We've never served this version of the dish. Ours was with a fennel sauce. Chef Fields made me change it because he didn't like it with blood orange."

It's Sydney's turn to frown. "No, it was exactly like this one. Hold on," she pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her photos, looking for one in particular. When she finds it, she turns the screen around to show him.  "See? Exact same dish."

Carmy takes the phone from her hands and looks at the picture, his confusion deepening. 

"This doesn't make sense," he mutters, his eyes not leaving the screen. 

"You’re sure you never served this version?"

"No. Well, except-" He stops abruptly, and, his eyes suddenly widen.

"Except what?"

Carmy's gaze flicks between the photo on her phone and her face, and then, he lets out a stunned laugh.

If Sydney was confused before, she’s even more so now. "What? Dude, you're freaking me out."

He clears his throat. "Fuck, sorry. The only time I remember making that version at Empire was when I got sick of Fields’ bullshit and just wanted to serve my version. So I, um, I pretended a customer had a fennel allergy just so I could sub it with blood orange." They both stare at the plates in front of them as the weight of the coincidence sinks in. "But that was, like, just this one time. It's mathematically impossible, right?" he asks.

Fuck, he’s right. Of all the nights she could’ve gone, of all the dishes that could’ve been served, and of all the guests present that evening, it feels like fate that his plate ended up in front of her.

"Oh, because you know so much about math," she teases.

"Okay, fuck off," he laughs. Then his smile softens, his eyes lingering on hers. "I can't believe it was you, of all people, who got it. I was really proud of that dish, so I'm glad it went to you."

"Me too," she replies, smiling softly.

For a moment, neither of them speaks, both staring at the plates, the dish having a new meaning in their eyes now.

"Alright," Carmy finally says, breaking the spell. "We should probably eat, or it’s gonna get cold."

Sydney nods, picking up her fork, eager to taste that dish again. She had thought about it more times than she’d like to admit, and now, here it was, right in front of her again. She takes her first bite, and the moment the food touches her tongue, a soft moan escapes her lips before she can stop it.

"Fuck me," she murmurs, savoring every layer of flavor. "This is just as amazing as I remember. Maybe even better."

Carmy still hasn’t touched his food. He’s watching her intensely, his focus entirely on her reaction. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she nods. "Okay, full honesty? I always tell people this is the best thing I've ever eaten."

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Really? Or are you just saying this to flatter me?"

She rolls her eyes playfully. "No, I'm dead serious. Ask Marcus, I told him about it. Well, I don't think I specified the dish, but I definitely said it was one of yours."

He blinks, genuinely surprise by her confession. "Fuck, I- I didn't expect it. Can you- Uh, can you tell me what you liked about it?"

Sydney sets her fork down, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Well, um, I remember the plate being placed in front of me, and I just… stared at it for a second, in awe. It looked like… like a bleeding heart. Like you were literally offering your heart on a plate. And then I tasted it, and everything was just-" She pauses, searching for the right words. "Fucking perfect. The textures, the balance, just the right amount of flavors. Everything just worked. I literally couldn’t stop thinking about it for days after."

"Wow, um, thank you," he murmurs. He seems touched by her words. Like he was finally seen and understood for the first time in his career. "I just- I never thought my food would leave that kind of impression on anyone."

She tilts her head, giving him a pointed look. "Dude, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have given you those stars if your food wasn't incredible."

"Yeah, but none of my dishes ever ended up on the menu unless Fields modified them first. That's why those stars don't mean anything to me, 'cause they just rewarded my execution, not my ideas. This," he says, pointing at her plate, "was the first and only time I ever served one of my original dishes at Empire. That’s why what you said… it means more than those stars ever could."

Her breath catches at the intensity in his tone. "Well, I mean it. It's incredible," she says sincerely, before adding with a teasing smile. "It definitely deserves three Adamu Stars."

Carmy's lips twitch in amusement. "Adamu Stars, huh?"

"Well, yes. We’re a very prestigious culinary institution. We only reward the bests of the bests."

"Oh, really? Who else got those Adamu Stars?"

"Besides you?" She pauses, tapping her chin in exaggerated thought. "Only Emmanuel Adamu. Total coincidence, though. He earned those fair and square."

"I bet," he chuckles.

She laughs along, then takes another bite of the dish, savoring the flavors for a moment, before asking, "So, can you tell me more about this dish?"

He takes a breath, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. "It was a dish I started working on when I was at Ever. So pretty early in my career. Every now and then, I'd come back to it, trying to tweak it, to make it perfect, but I was never satisfied. I did several versions, some with zucchini, others with a poach egg. But in the end, this version is the only one that stood out for me."

"And you've never served it to anyone else? Not even Claire or-"

"No," he shakes his head. "No one else has tasted it. Not even Chef Fields."

"What? He didn't even try it?"

"Nah. He just looked at it, told me to swap the blood orange for fennel sauce, and said it was his dish now."

She frowns. "Damn. What a fucking asshole."

Carmy chuckles softly, nodding. "He really was."

"So, I'm really the only person on this planet who's tasted this dish."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Just you."

There's something in the way he's looking at her that makes her stomach do flips. It takes everything in her not to climb over the table and kiss him right here and then.

She clears her throat, trying to think about anything else but the thought of his lips on hers. She redirects her attention to the dish, taking another bite. "So, um, what about you? What's your all-time favorite dish?"

Carmy tilts his head, thinking of his answer. "Um, probably Mikey's braciole. No one else could make it like he did."

Sydney straightens in her seat. "Oh shit, I didn't know we were doing family dishes. Hold on, let me change my answer."

Carmy shakes his head, grinning. "Nope. Too late."

"Fuck." She groans dramatically before pointing a finger at him. "Okay, if my dad asks, please lie and tell him I said my favorite dish is everything he makes."

He lets out a laugh. "Alright, okay." He pauses, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Is he a good cook? Your dad?"

Sydney’s face brightens at the question. "Yeah, he really is. He taught me so many Nigerian dishes. And thankfully, 'cause the cuisines I learned at the CIA were, like, very Eurocentric."

Carmy nods knowingly. "Yeah, I'm not surprised."

"What about you? Does everyone in your family cook?"

Carmy nods, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, everyone's really good. Even my mom, on her bad days, could still throw together something that tasted amazing. Cooking was always a big deal in our family. It was the one thing that brought us together, even when everything else was a mess. So when we got older, we created our own traditions. Like, before I left for Copenhagen, we’d all get together most Sundays - me, Mikey, Nat, Richie. The three of us would cook together while Richie sat on the counter telling some dumb story about his week." His smile falters slightly but doesn’t disappear entirely. "I kinda miss it."

Her heart twinges for him. "That sounds nice," she says softly.

"Yeah, it was," he replies with a small smile. "What about you? Do you and your dad have some kind of weekly tradition?"

"Uh yeah. We usually try to have breakfast together on Sunday mornings. Since our work schedules are so different, we don’t get to see each other much during the week, so Sunday’s kind of our thing."

"That's nice."

"Yeah... But, um," she hesitates, biting her lip before letting out a nervous laugh, "speaking of traditions, I actually kinda need to confess something."

Carmy’s brows knit together. "What?"

"So, I, uh, kinda lied to you on my first day. I actually never went to The Beef with my dad. "

Carmy blinks, then smirks. "Yeah I figured. The Beef was never opened on Sundays" 

Her eyes widen as her face grows hot. "Are you serious? Fuck, this is so embarrassing." She buries her face in her hands, her groan muffled against her palms.

Carmy chuckles, clearly amused.  "I mean, I didn't really mind. Everybody lies to get a job. And, you were definitely too good for this place. I'd have been an idiot not to hire you over a harmless lie."

She lifts her head, meeting his eyes. "Yeah, but I didn't just lie because I needed a job. I, uh, I just really wanted to work with you," she admits shyly.

His expression shifts from amusement to surprise. "Really?"

She nods. "Like, no offense, but I could've worked anywhere but a sandwich shop. I just wanted to learn from the guy who made the best thing I've ever tasted."

Carmy exhales and looks away for a moment. "Fuck, I- I can't imagine how disappointed it must've been to see that I was just a mess," he mutters, his tone apologetic.

She tilts her head, studying him for a beat before offering a small, teasing smile. "Well, if I’m sitting here right now, it means you weren’t too bad."

Carmy’s eyes flicker back to hers, his smile returning slowly. For a moment, they just look at each other, as if the world around them has momentarily fallen away.

Then, Carmy clears his throat, breaking the spell.  "Okay, so, um... I guess it's time for dessert," he says, standing up.

"Hold on, let me help you," she offers, standing up as well. She starts gathering the plates, but before she can reach for his, he moves beside her in a flash.

"No, no, you don't need to. You're my guest, remember?"

"I don't mind, real-"  Her breath catches when his hand gently takes hers, stopping her movements. She lifts her head, and that’s when she realizes just how close he is. Too close. There's barely a breath between them. 

The air between them thickens, charged with something electric. And then... his eyes slowly drop to her lips. 

Her breathing stops.

"I really wanna kiss you right now," he murmurs softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding in her chest.

"Why don't you?" she whispers back, her tone just as low as his.

His eyes lift to meet hers again, and she can see the vulnerability in them. "I'm scared to fuck this up"

She tilts her head slightly. "Who says you're gonna fuck this up?"

"'Cause I always do."

"Or maybe you won't," she counters softly, turning her hand in his so she can lace their fingers together. "Maybe this time will be different. You won't know if you don't give yourself the chance "

Carmy’s eyes search hers for a few seconds. "But what about The Bear? And the team?"

Sydney had thought about it. Agonized over it, actually. She even made a pros and cons list on her notes app. But over the past weeks, she came to the conclusion that, at the end of the day, they are inevitable.

Neither of them can ignore the pull between them. It’s been there since day one, buried under stress and chaos, but still undeniable. And pretending otherwise and ignoring it, won’t make it go away.

And, yeah, it’s risky. But plenty of restaurants are run by couples, and they thrive. So why should they be any different?

Her lips curl into a reassuring smile. "Well, this can be a conversation for our next date."

Carmy’s brows lift slightly. "Oh, so, there's gonna be a second date?"

She shrugs. "Depends."

"On what?"

"If you kiss me or not," she replies with a teasing smile, her gaze dropping to his lips.

There’s no hesitation this time. Carmy leans in, closing the space between them, his lips pressing softly against hers. The kiss starts slow and tentative, much like their relationship. 

Sydney presses into him, deepening the kiss slightly, her hands sliding up to rest against his chest. She can feel his heart beating fast beneath her palms, matching the rhythm of her own. 

Then his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, and her heart flips. For a moment, everything else fades. All she can focus on is him. The warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the way she can taste the blood orange on his lips. It’s intoxicating.

Her hands move from his chest to his hair, threading her fingers through soft curls. And the second she does, Carmy lets out a soft groan against her mouth.

Jesus Christ. She wants to hear that sound again.

So she tugs gently on his hair, and he reacts instantly, his breath catching, his grip on her tightening. Then, one of his hands moves from her waist to cradle her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he deepens the kiss even more.

Sydney had spent far too much time - more than she’d ever admit - wondering what kind of kisser Carmy was. Turns out, he kisses the way he cooks. With passion, care, and precision. Every movement feels deliberate, yet there’s this urgency that sends a shiver down her spine.

She has no idea how long they stand there, just kissing. Could be seconds. Could be hours. She doesn't care. All she knows is that she doesn’t want it to end.

But eventually, they have to pull away, breaking apart just enough to breathe. Sydney rests her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she tries to steady herself. Her heart is hammering, her head feels light and her lips are still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

"So," Carmy starts, still a little out of breath.

She opens her eyes to find him already looking at her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Second date?"