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The Swiftie Community likes to say you get introduced to or discover Taylor's music when you need her. It takes time, they say. You might not like her now, but somewhere down the line, you'll be screaming her songs at the top of your lungs while you drive to wherever it is you have to go.
Richie scoffs, bullshit, motherfuckers. He lights a cigarette, lets the nicotine do its work. Good for them, he thinks.
Bad days became normal for Richie since he got divorced.
We can't do this anymore. Tiff was crying. She covers her mouth in hopes that it'll muffle the sounds. She can't afford to make any noise. I love you, Richie, I do. He gives her a small smile, I know, he whispers. But we can't keep living like this —
Their conversation stops when they hear a rustle, and the door of her room creaks open. "Mom?" Richie saw her rubbing her eyes, holding the stuffed teddy bear he won for her. Tiff turns, wipes her tears, and clears her throat. She evens her breathing before pasting on a smile, "Hi, baby, bad dream?" He watches her walk towards their bundle of joy and picks her up.
Tiff looks at him. Her left arm supported the weight of their baby bear, right palm patting her head. He nods. I'm sorry, Tiff mouthed before going inside the room. Richie hears the door softly shut.
Three weeks later, their divorce was final. Both of them promise that no matter what happens, they'll make co-parenting a walk in the park. There was a time when loving each other was enough, a time when promises of a bright future kept them going. But it's different, now. Promises need to become tangible.
Richie looks at Eva's grinning face. It was the picture he took when she was three, wearing a yellow raincoat and red boots. Tiff bought Eva one of those transparent umbrellas to match her outfit. He smiles. She can't grow up like him. He'll make it so she won't have to. He kisses the picture of his daughter.
I'll do right by you, my baby bear.
Rainy days are normal for Richie, but sometimes, he gets to have a peek of the sun. He does during family at The Beef, when Sug calls to check on him (I don't really give a fuck, Richie. I just don't have anything better to do. Richie snorts. Yeah, right, Sug). Hell, he even sees it when Carmy texts him (Happy birthday, cousin. You're fucking old, now).
He counts himself lucky on days when it doesn't pour, when he gets to soak under the sun. It's always like that when he gets to spend time with Eva. Richie likes learning about her day, who her friends are, and what she did at school. His fridge is decorated with her pictures and drawings. His coffee table is filled with her favorite albums. He doesn't bother removing Fearless from his CD player.
It was also always sunny with Mikey. Well, that was before he blew his brains out on the State Street Bridge.
Richie resents Carmy a little. You didn't go to his funeral. Why the fuck didn't you go? He loves you. He loved you. Fuck you. Fuck you!
Marcus comes up to him one day, "I'm a bit worried about Carm," he tells Richie in a hush. Marcus tells him about his talk with Carmy when they were doing outside lunch service. He tells Richie he found their interaction light and warm at the time. But when he thought about it at night, something felt off. He had this weird look in his eyes when he talked about letting the place burn down. "Cousin's a pussy. He won't do shit like that," he tells Marcus. "You worry too much, Marcus," he says before patting his back.
It was storming in Chicago when he got arrested. Carmy bails him out. Syd stabs his ass (Richie knows he's fucked in the head when that makes him acknowledge and respect her). "Yo cousin, there's a fucking line!" He shouts when he sees the line outside of the restaurant. "Are we open or not?" He hears the kitchen doors open and turns to Carmy. "You look crazy," and he laughs. He looks like a fucking maniac. "We're not doing service today," he says. Richie's eyebrow shot up. "We're understaffed. Marcus left," he explains. "Syd quit," it was a hush, said in quick succession. Carmy's eyes were focused on the counter in front of Richie. He was tapping his foot, his nails were digging into his palms.
"You good, cousin?" Carmy's eyes snap towards him. "Yeah," he says. "I'm good, couz." He nods, ignoring it when he hears the same words in Mikey's voice.
Richie hears Tina screaming. She was shouting Carmy's name and calling for him. "The kitchen's on fire!" His body moves. He doesn't know who takes the extinguisher (whether it's him, or Tina, or somebody else). He calls Carmy, but he doesn't respond, continuing to stare into nothing. Richie remembers his conversation with Marcus.
If I don't do anything, this place will burn down, and all my anxiety will go away with it.
Richie excuses himself and allows himself to cry in the back of the restaurant. He may love Mikey like a brother, but Carmy was his brother. Richie wipes his tears. He goes back inside and takes the letter Mikey had hidden at the back of the lockers.
Richie, what the fuck is this?
He licks his bottom lip. "I don't know," Richie knows he's sniffling. Thanks his lucky stars that Carmy doesn't make fun of him. Who is he kidding, though? This little shit won't do that. "And, uh, I didn't really want to give it to you because it meant he was gone." Mikey was all he had. "It's stupid," he says.
Richie keeps his eyes on Carmy after he gets back. When he feels like the storm has subsided to rain, he goes into the register, pretending he's preparing it (it doesn't need to be, he's being an idiot) for evening service. He busies himself with punching its buttons. "Yo cousin, help!"
Mikey... that crazy motherfucker. Who thinks of putting cash in tomato cans?
"Jeff," he turns to where Tina's looking and sees Syd. Richie moves his eyes to Carmy. He's tense. Richie tries to be helpful. "Syd," she spares him a glance before looking back at Carmy. Richie puffs. He tells her to quit fucking around and help. He hopes he sounds welcoming.
He watches Carmy stare at Sydney. Hears the rain turn to drizzle as he watches his cousin's shoulders relax. They talk about some family style shit, something to do with Danish —? It flew right over his head. He was about to ask what the fuck they're talking about, but stopped himself.
Carmen's gaunt face from earlier was gone, replaced by fucking smile.
Richie feels a bit of sunshine hitting his skin.
The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage.
The Bear is coming.
They're building a new restaurant. Richie doesn't know what to do. He wants this to work, needs it to. One night, he caves and calls Sug, "I don't know how I fit in this." It takes her a while to answer. "Maybe you can start by reading up on how restaurants work," she offers. "Like if Carmy's the chef, what's your job?" He hums. "Thanks, Sug," he hears her laugh. "Anytime, Richie."
He spends the night racking his brain. Carmy's purpose is cooking. That's why he worked his ass off to become a chef. That settles it. Richie believes the first step in making this work is to find his purpose.
I'll do right by you, baby bear. He promises before falling asleep.
Richie spent his time reading every book he could find about purpose. It makes him feel even worse, especially after reading that book about everyone having their own thing and being good at it, and then one guy just looks at trains all day. They ended up cutting him off. Richie doesn't finish the book. It's sitting in the corner under his dining table after he threw it across the room.
Richie, I'm not gonna drop this ass.
It doesn't rain as hard as he expected it to.
It’s Richie's weekend with Eva. He took her to a theme park on Saturday. They rode on the Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. She asked him to ride the roller coaster with her, and he's so fucking proud of her for being so brave. Sunday mornings were reserved for pancakes and morning dances. His daughter's obsession is Taylor Swift. They say kids are fickle. Calls bullshit on that. He doesn't see Taylor going away anytime soon. Doesn't think Eva will ever move on from her with the way she's listening to her songs.
Richie swears he hears Love Story every time he closes his eyes. He also finds himself humming the tune whenever he's working at the restaurant. He knows the guys will tease him for it once they find out. His self-esteem can't handle that right now. So because of that, he made the fucking mistake of asking his daughter to find something else to listen to, then she didn't talk to him for the rest of the morning.
"I love you," he calls out to her, but she continues to walk towards her mom's place. "And, Eva?" She doesn't even falter. His heart still swells despite her ignoring him. My girl knows how to stand her ground. "I love Taylor Swift, too. I just needed a break, you know?" Later that night, Tiff calls to tell him he's an idiot.
Do you know why she loves Sunday mornings with you? It's the day her dad acts silly and dances with her to her favorite songs.
Richie's in a screaming match with Nat and Syd. For fuck's sake, he's just trying to help. Let him help. Let him do something for the restaurant he spent his entire life working at. Then Carmy, the bastard who's been a no-show for days, enters with Claire.
Richie wonders if this will be a thing. Claire and Carmy. Carmy and Claire. You should ask her out! It's what he always used to say. He hopes Carm finds his one good thing.
Hey Claire-Bear, he ignores how weird it feels hearing himself say that, chalks it up to the fact that it's been a while. Richie asks Claire if she's met Frank, and she says yes. He asks what she thinks of him — pretty, great.
Richie nods his head, turns to Carmy, and starts to explain, but all he hears is Tomorrow, Cousin. Good night. Then Syd says goodnight, watches as Carmy turns to her, eyes narrowed.
What does that mean? Nothing. I'm saying good night.
Richie saw Carmy's hand twitch, jaw clenched. Somehow, it feels like he's rooting himself to where he's standing. He hears Sug — do something about him, Bear.
Richie stares at the establishment in front of him. "You're staging at Ever," Carmy tells him over the phone. "Why?" There was a pause. "You're starting Monday." Then nothing.
Fuck you, Cousin.
Richie opens the door, and he goes through the wide hallway. He gets to the end, and he's dangling shit hanging from the ceiling. Then gets to the dining hall and sighs. Richie's used to storms, not the cold.
He gets assigned to Garrett. "Put that on," he says. "You're doing forks today," Forks? The fuck will he do with forks? Garrett tells him to dry them, make sure they're clean. No streaks.
Fuck you, Cousin.
Richie doesn't even try. Everyone dries forks one at a time, holding them up to the light to check for any dirt. He thinks they're full of shit. Garrett doesn't last 9 hours. Richie scoffs, glad to be getting under this pretentious fuck's skin. "Why are you even here?" Because his cousin, Carmen, is a bastard. "I'm getting punished for being ancillary," he says. "When am I meeting the boss, capo, Terry — Chef Terry?" Garrett looks done with him. "Chef Terry is always watching," Richie rolls his eyes.
Richie takes 9 hours to cave. "Man, can I wash the dishes instead?" Garrett tuts, "We have the best dishwashers in the world. You'll only slow them down." He sees himself looking out his apartment window, watching cars pass by in the middle of a storm. He wipes two forks at once. "That's not clean," he does another two. "Please do them properly —" "They're just goddamn forks." Garrett balls his fist. "Outside. Now." Bring it on, fucker.
"Do you think this is below you or something?" Richie scoffs. All this because of forks? "No one's asking you to be here. I don't think anybody remembers your name," then one day, they just cut him off. "Nice try. Do you think I don't know how hard it is hiring people since COVID?" Garrett looks at him, unfazed, "We don't have that problem."
For a second, he thinks Carmy sent him here for a reason. He looks at Garrett, "You really drink this Kool-Aid, huh?" He looks resolute. "Yeah, I do," fucker found his purpose, a voice that suspiciously sounds like Mikey tells him. He doesn't get the chance to think more about it because Garrett starts a fucking speech.
"I love this so much, dude," Richie is taken aback by how passionate he says it. "Did you know that when this restaurant opened 12 years ago, it won the best restaurant in the world the same year?" That fast? Can they do that with The Bear? "It's retained three stars because we have a waiting list that's so long. Five thousand people waiting at any given moment." Holy shit.
The storm's slowly mellowing out.
"Do you see their faces when they walk in here? How stoked they are to see us and how stoked we have to be to serve them?" Richie remembers asking Carmy why he wanted to work at a restaurant. He suspected it was because Mikey was a good cook or that he wanted to run from all of this. I love cooking, seeing people happy because of the food. He remembers feeling envious — it must be nice to know what you want in life.
"You don't have to drink the Kool-Aid, Richie," he says, looking at Garrett. "I just need you to respect me," he already does. "I need you to respect the staff. I need you to respect the diners. And I need you to respect yourself." Richie nods. "I can do respect," and he says it like a promise.
Tiff calls him during his break. She asks how he's doing. He tells her he's doing great. Worry slowly crept its way in when she didn't say anything after that, "What's going on? Is Eva okay?" Richie lets out the breath he was holding when she says their daughter's doing great.
Another silence. "Yo, I got those Taylor Swift tix," he almost slips and says Jimmy got it. He feels pathetic for not being able to get those for his daughter. Richie hears how happy Tiff was on the other side of the phone, "Eva's going to be so excited," she says. "Actually, I got three if you want to come."
She doesn't answer. He knows she has someone else now. But a small part of him hoped that they could still make it work.
"You don't have to," Richie says. He doesn't have it in him to put her in an uncomfortable position. Tiff calls him sweet and tries to find something else to say. She settles with, "I know you're busy, I just have something to say." Richie wants to tell her she needs to be more creative.
"Okay. Are you alright?" He's getting worried again. Richie's not sure if he's worried for her or for himself. "I just want you to hear it from me," she explains. "Hear what?" He decides to worry about himself. "Frank proposed to me," it's worse than Sydney stabbing his ass. "What did you say?" A stupid question, but he needs to hear it. "I said yes."
Richie looks up, wonders if the rain will ever stop.
"That's great, Tiff," he says. She thanks him, assures him that nothing will change between them. "And I love you," he stops hoping for it to mean like it used to. "I love you," he says the way he always did... For the last time.
Richie gets a peek of the dining hall. No, check tonight. He saw the guests looking shocked and awed. How they lit up because they couldn't believe they got to dine at the best restaurant in the world, eat the greatest food, and not pay for shit.
Garrett gives him a suit, "You're trailing today." Richie feels like he's wearing armor. He remembers the guests from yesterday. He feels excitement coursing through his body.
Garrett explains how FOH works. "We stagger reservations by 15 minutes so we don't stack the kitchen," makes sense. They should do that at The Bear. Cousin probably already has a system in mind. Garrett tells him that servers take the temperatures of the room. Richie frowns. How the fuck do they do that if they can't speak? "By passing notes," Garrett explains. "That's some high school shit," he gets him to snort. Richie takes the win.
They moved him to the kitchen. He sees a woman standing in front of a podium...? She had a tablet, post-its, highlighters, and a timer on top. Richie thinks her name is Jess. He asks her about the colors.
Orange is a dietary restriction. Yellow is outta town. Green is a VIP. And blue means kitchen tour.
He asks about her notes. She tells him about each table's eating habits. "How do you know all about that?" He watched Jess try to hold back a smile. "We have a designated staff member that researches each guest," she explains. Richie starts grinning because that's some next-level shit. When he asked about the tablet, waitlist. He asks how guests can get here fast. "Oh, we send a car," she says it like an afterthought. As if it's normal for a restaurant to send a car. "That shit is crazy," he's fucking amazed. "How do you do this all day?"
Jess asks him to stand a bit to the side and starts doing... Richie racks his brain to find the right term. He's read it in a book. He bounces his leg — Expediter... expo! Jess starts doing expo, and he finds himself itching to do it, too. He notices a pattern. He wants to try it, thinks he can do it.
Every second counts. Chef!
"Every night you make somebody's day," what? "You asked me how I can do this, and that's how I can do this."
Garret gets sent out to deliver a dish, and Richie follows. Garrett says the name of the dish. They call the thing that looks like a tree a Hibiscus cloud. The two women ask how it should be eaten, and Garrett beams, "That's my favorite part."
He takes pink clouds using his chopsticks and drops them into each guest's tea. They watch it dissolve in awe. "Fuck me," he mutters. Garrett chastises him for swearing. "He took the words out of my mouth," Richie smiles.
They go back to the kitchen. Richie tells Jess about the guest on Nine wanting to try Chicago deep dish before leaving. Jess calls a surprise on nine. He asks her what the surprise is. Jess smiles at him. "You're going to make them a deep dish?" Nope. The next thing Richie knows is that he is running around the block to pick up a box of Pequod's. Chef Shapiro takes the box from him the moment he comes back and starts plating.
"Can I bring it to the table?" He wants to be the one to serve it, wants to see the look on their faces, hopes they'll be amazed and happy to be there with them. He needs to see it happen. "Go get them, Richie," he smiles back. They remember his name.
Richie doesn't immediately serve the surprise. He talks to them first, jokes with them like they've known each other for a long time. "I know you guys have probably waited a very long time to be here," he builds the suspense. "But I couldn't live with myself if I let this beautiful family leave Chicago without sampling one of my personal favorite dishes — Pequod's deep dish."
Richie hears the rain stop and sees the sun starting to come out.
Do you see their faces when they walk in here? How stoked they are to see us, and how stoked we have to be to serve them?
He watched as every guest at the table lit up. They were so happy and started thanking him profusely. They call them wonderful. "No, you're wonderful," he says.
Richie starts reading up on books specific to fine dining restaurants. He asks Jess, Garrett, and Rene to coach him after service. He asks them to help him get better. They walk him through different sauces and quiz him on facts about the Ever. He swears Garrett tears up every time he gets the right answer. It's been a while since he enjoyed something as much as he does with this.
They say that you discover Taylor's music when you need her. That it takes time, and you might not like her now.
Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel
This love is difficult, but it's real
Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess
It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"
But somewhere down the line, you'll be screaming her songs at the top of your lungs while you drive to wherever it is you have to go.
And he said Marry me, Juliet
You'll never have to be alone
I love you, and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress
It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
'Cause we were both young when I first saw you
Richie feels the sun shining down on him. It's warm. His jaw hurts from smiling too much. He's so fucking happy he feels like he's about to cry. Fuck. He finally knows what he can do.
See? Daddy keeps his promises, baby bear.
He enters Ever's kitchen for the last time and sees Chef Terry. "What are you making?" He asks her. For some reason, Richie feels like she's the calmest and most reasonable person on the planet. "I'm just peeling mushrooms for the lamb des tournelles." Mushrooms? She tells him it's a fun detail that tells customers how much work they put in the dish. She asks him if he wants to try. Richie shrugs, why not. Chef Terry shows him how to do it. She was patient. He wonders if she showed the same amount of patience to Carmy. Richie knows his cousin can be an ass.
Richie finds two things in common with Chef Terry: 1) Both their dads served in the military, and 2) They never really knew them as a person. Richie smiles a bit. He finds it ironic that two people with the same background have led different lives. Well, he thinks Chef Terry had a head start. She knew what she wanted from the get-go. That makes all the difference.
"It's never too late to start over," she tells him. Richie hears Jess calling for Chef Terry. "Don't be a stranger, Richie. Say hi to Carmen for me," she says. Richie nods, "Will do." For a moment, he sees Chef Terry hesitate. "He believes in you, you know?" Richie scoffs. "What makes you say that?" She looks amused. "He told me. He said you were good people," her smiles widen. "He's not wrong." Richie shakes his head, couldn't believe what he heard. "Nice talking to you, Chef," he says. "Likewise, Chef."
Richie, I'm not dropping this ass.
He smiles. The sun's out in Chicago.
Fuck you, cousin.
Three Years Later - August 13, 2025
87 minutes before the New Heights episode with Taylor drops
He hears a knock on the office door, "Hey, Richie." Syd reached for her notebook on the corner of the desk before leaning against the door frame. She's already wearing her chef whites. He remembers seeing it for the first time during opening night.
Richie had always wanted to ask Syd about her chef whites ever since he saw her wear them during friends and family. That was 7 months ago. They were either too busy with the restaurant or racking their brains on how to pay Jimmy back, so he hadn't had the time to bring it up. "Is that a Thom Browne jacket?" Syd looked like a gaping fish. "Uh..." Richie swears there's a faint blush on her cheeks.
They both looked towards the kitchen door when they heard it open. "Yo, Syd, need to talk to you about our holiday menu," Cousin said, eyes trained on her as he approached. Am I invisible or something? He didn't stop until their shoulders were inches, no, centimeters, apart. Sydney's blush intensifies. Huh. Richie's eyes bounced between the two. "What's going on?" Richie narrows his eyes. He knows they have a weird, freaky connection shit but have they always been this close, like, physically? Richie isn’t sure what’s going on with those two, maybe nothing, maybe everything, but he knows the look of people who’ve found their groove. Took him long enough to find his. "Nothing, couz. Just asking Chef Syd if she's wearing a Thom Browne jacket," he explains. "Looks an awful lot like the ones you wear," it was Carmen who blushes this time.
"Thought you were done after lunch service?" She asked. Richie nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm leaving in a bit, just wanted to see what our night looks like," he said as he scrolled through the tablet.
They're overbooked and have about 100 on the waitlist. Take that, motherfuckers! It took them a while to really get their shit together. Well, for cousin to get his shit together. The Chicago Tribune really woke him up. Richie read it, had reread it 100 times. They didn't use scathing words; it wasn't really bad, but he thinks it hit too close to home.
It felt like eating at three different restaurants, they say. That's just code for an unsynchronized kitchen and an inconsistent chef.
"You sure you guys are gonna be okay? Neil called in sick today," Syd rolled her eyes. "We'll be fine, Richie," she tells him. "We have the dream team, remember?" He laughs. Yeah, no one can beat Jess, Garrett, and Rene at this shit. "Well, alright then," he stands up from the office chair towards the kitchen. "Text me if things get hectic, okay, cousin?" Syd rolls her. "Yeah, yeah," She said. "Enjoy your night with Eva, Richie!" And then he was pushed out to the street.
13 minutes before the New Heights episode with Taylor drops
He rang the doorbell at Tiff's home and immediately greeted her beautiful daughter. "Daddy!" Richie enveloped her in a big hug. "Hey, baby bear," he whispered in her ear. "How was your day?" He asked after pulling away from her. They closed the door once he got inside. Richie saw Tiff poke her head from the living room. "Hey, Tiff, all set up?" He saw her roll her eyes. "Sometimes, I wonder who's the bigger fan," he laughed. "The Eras Tour changed my life," a fan at 48. Holy shit. Oh well, just proves she's iconic as fuck for having different generations in her fanbase.
"Where's Frank?" He asked Tiff once they settled into the couch. Eva sidled to his side, teddy bear in her arm. "Here, sorry, had to finish a work call," Frank said as he entered the room. "Hey man, you good? You look stressed," Richie said. "Nah, just busy season," he answered. "It'll pass." Just then, two large bowls of popcorn of were placed on top of the coffee table. They all said thanks to Tiff or Mom or sweetheart.
God, he feels like a kid staying up for Christmas because Taylor’s dropping new music (thank god it’s actually new music because if it had been another merch drop, he’d have lost his shit). He’s proud she’s announcing it in a space where she’s safe and comfortable, and even more so that it’s something he can share with his family.
Richie looked around and felt content. Same with the restaurant, it took them a while to find their groove, especially with Richie and Frank being insecure of each other because of Eva. Looking at it now, he's thankful for Frank, too. His daughter is receiving triple the love and attention because she got one more parental figure in her life.
"Alright, it's starting, shh!" He hears Tiff laugh, hears her mutter that Richie's a bigger fan compared to Eva. Well, that's just wrong. Both equally love Taylor Swift.
Jason and Travis start with their usual opening before introducing Taylor to the show. It was so crazy long and well deserved that by the end of the intro, Jason was gasping for air.
As the podcast continues, Richie sees the dynamic between Taylor and Travis, and he feels like he's seen this before. He just can't place when and where. He ignores the feeling and continues watching.
30 minutes in, and Travis can't stop staring at Taylor. Just stares at her. It's like Travis forgot that he's working because he's just looking at Taylor with admiration as she talks about sourdough. "Daddy, do you know how to make sourdough?" Richie focused his attention on Eva. "No, sweetheart. I can ask Marcus how, though," he tells her. "Want to make it this weekend?" Eva nodded her head so fast. "Can we do the rainbow one she mentioned?" Richie couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, sweetheart," he says as he ruffles her hair.
"It's like you see you on the stage, and you see how... crazy you can get the entire stadium be," Travis has Taylor’s full attention right now. She stares back, not as much as Travis, but when she does, she really does. "And I get you in a room and it's like I've known you forever." Fuck you, man. You rub it in our faces that you're in love or what? "It was just the easiest conversation I've ever had," Taylor smiles at him. "It was, uh, just fun," he says as he looks at her. "It knocked my socks off. What can I say," Richie's willing to bet if there wasn't a mic in front of him, they wouldn't have heard it. It would have been just for her. Richie watched Taylor smile, "I felt the exact same way with you," she says.
"Should I leave?" Everyone laughs. Thank fucking god for Jason.
The podcast continued. Richie thinks this is the most intimate interview she's ever had. Taylor talks about the Eras Tour, reclaiming her music, and her upcoming album — The Life of a Showgirl. Richie's seen the pictures. One word: wow.
Travis starts using big words, which prompts Jason to tease him about broadening his horizon ever since he started dating Taylor. "We're the perfect - I'm telling you, it's so... she makes me so much better," he says. Not even a hint of embarrassment when he does.
The podcast ends, and Richie can't believe that 2 hours have already passed. He sets to leave, Eva walking him to the door. "We'll make sourdough on Saturday?" Richie nods, "Yeah," he says. "We'll make funfetti and blueberry ones, yeah?" Eva smiles. Richie squats down, "I'll pick you up next weekend, alright? Be good for Mom and Frank," he says. "I love you, baby bear," Eva hugs him. "I loave you, too," Richie laughed.
He was right. Taylor was not a passing obsession.
The next day, he was back at The Bear in his suit and tie. He is a man on a mission, "Yo, Marcus!" Richie high-fives his favorite pastry chef. "Hey Richie, what's up?" He claps Marcus's shoulders and asks him how the fuck one makes a sourdough. Marcus looks at him, probably confused about why he was asking. Richie explained Taylor's newfound hobby of sourdough making, so he and Eva will be doing that this weekend. "Gotcha," Marcus says before pulling out his notebook. He explained that Richie has to make a starter first (flour and water), and then he has to feed it so that it doubles in size...? What? Richie shakes his head. He has to focus. He and Eva will nail that sprinkle-filled sourdough bread. Richie listens as Marcus explains how it works, taking mental notes. Anything he doesn’t understand will be answered by Google. If it gets too hard, he'll call Marcus.
Richie gets momentarily distracted by the sound of a plate hitting the table. He looks up and sees Carmy and Syd across the room. Ah, they're still brainstorming about the holiday menu, he thinks. It was a typical sight: them in white shirts and blue aprons with a dish in front. Sydney was animatedly explaining the dish to Carmy, her hands waiving around as she did, making eye contact every so often to check if he was listening to her.
Then there's Carmy. He's staring at her with a small smile on his face. He was nodding his head to what she was saying, showing her how much he agreed, but he hadn't even fucking looked at the plate. He hadn't even spared it a glance.
Richie realizes why Taylor and Travis's dynamic was so familiar. His eyes widened because what the fuck, cousin? But at the same time, he can't be mad because Carmen fucking Berzatto is smiling without a care in the world. Holy shit.
Holy shit!
He only realizes he cursed aloud when the two idiots looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You good, man? Is it too complicated?" He hears Marcus ask first. Oh, right, the sourdough. "No, no," he says. "Thanks for walking me through it, man. I'll work on my starter later," he tells him before turning back to the pair.
"You okay, cousin?" It was Carmy who asked. Richie's eyes bounced between the two, a shit eating grin making its way to his lips. "All good, you can go back to your menu," he says. "Or whatever it was you two were doing," he adds, eyebrows wiggling to make sure his innuendo gets across. Richie mentally cheers when he sees Carmy's ears tinged red, while Sydney just looks confused.
Oh, I am so having a fucking field day with this.