Chefs love to have that control and power to control the message they want to deliver.
–Steve Chen
Guy
I’ve haven’t even pulled the glasses down when the door sweeps open. “That was fast. I hope you brought me one of the douche nougat—” I turn around, expecting to see Scarlett, but it’s not.
It’s, “Marie?” Standing in my kitchen like she thinks she belongs there. She takes off her coat and lays it on the counter.
“Who were you expecting, that woman in your chef jacket? You’ve taken to bringing conquests here, huh? Too crowded at home, I expect. So. Who is she?”
I don’t bother answering her questions. It’s none of her business, although it rankles to hear her call Scarlett that woman, when she’s so much more. And conquests? She has no idea. “What are you doing here, Marie?”
“I’m not allowed to stop in and see my husband?”
“You and I both know it’s in name only.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, something just outside pings and then crashes against the floor.
Marie smirks and opens the door to reveal Scarlett, who is holding my chef’s jacket in one arm and clutching at a painting, which appears to have fallen off the wall.
“Scarlett?” Her face is red, and she won’t meet my eyes.
Panic thumps through me.
I’m sure she heard most of our conversation and I want to punch myself in the face. I should have told her the truth sooner. Of course, Marie ran into her on the way in and did her best to set up the dice to fall for this exact outcome.
Scarlett is attempting to put the picture back on the wall. “Sorry, I was just…ah, bringing back your jacket and I need my keys. But then I ran into the wall but . . .” She struggles to lift the piece back onto the hanger, but she can’t reach the hook.
I move toward her, “You don’t have to—” but before I can reach her, she leans it carefully against the wall on the floor.
“Never mind. I’ll get out of your hair. You guys probably have a lot to talk about.” She steps back and turns but nearly runs into the wall again.
“No…wait.” I glare at Marie. “Stay here, please.” I go out the door, shutting it behind me, taking Scarlett’s elbow and leading her away a bit in case Marie is listening. Of course, she’s listening.
Scarlett steps out of my grip and gazes up at me, big dark blue eyes haunted. The pain in her eyes is a straight stab to the gut. “You’re still married.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Technically, yes.”
Her arms cross over her chest and her eyes skitter to the side.
“But only because the State of New York won’t accept divorce papers by reason of abandonment until a year has passed,” I add quickly. “And it’ll be a year within a matter of days. We’ve just been waiting to file. Which is probably exactly why Marie is here now.”
She still won’t meet my eyes. “I see.” She’s calm. Too calm. Like the eye of a storm.
“No, you don’t. It’s a long story. I’m sorry. I should have told you—”
“No.” She cuts me off with a swipe of her hand and then takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. We can talk later. You have more important things to deal with. Just . . .” She bites her lip and still, still won’t meet my eyes. I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell Marie to go to hell, but she’s not wrong. It can’t be a coincidence that Marie would show up now, when I’m so close to being able to file papers against her.
“Call me later.” She finally meets my eyes, her expression remaining guarded.
“I’ll come over,” I say impulsively.
Her responding smile is small, but it’s there and the sight of it gives me hope I haven’t totally wrecked the tenuous connection between us. “What about your sisters?”
Dammit, she’s right. I promised Ava I would be there before they went to bed.
My hands clench at my sides, wanting to reach out and grab her or kiss her, but I don’t want to push it. She’s pale and the smile is gone. I don’t blame her. She found out I’m still married, and I know this must be hell for her, especially after her last boyfriend was married. And yet, she’s not being dramatic or angry, she’s being more understanding than I would expect from anyone.
“I’ll be going, then…bye.” She hands me my coat and then turns away.
I run a hand through my hair and watch her disappear out the front door.
I stand in the dark and empty restaurant for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts and emotions. I need to be clear headed to deal with Marie and her particular brand of behavior. She likes to make up her own narrative, the one that paints her as the biggest victim and everyone else is wrong and she’s always right, and with that kind of thing? You’ve got to be on your toes, or she’ll talk you right into a corner.
I’m worse than a douche nougat, even worse than ever before and I deserve something terrible to happen to me, but something terrible is happening and she’s standing in my kitchen.
I’ve got to make this quick, keep her to the point. With all that in mind, I stride back into the kitchen.
“Did you come by to sign the divorce papers? I have them in my office.”
She grimaces. “Do we have to talk about all that depressing stuff? I haven’t seen you in a year.” She reaches out to put a hand on my arm, but I step back. Her smile falters, but only for a flickering second and then she dials the charm back on. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
“I’m not really in the mood to socialize.”
“Aren’t you? Isn’t that what you were doing?” She waves at the plates, still sitting on the counter and she bites her lip and it reminds me of Scarlett, biting her lip because I hurt her. Marie’s move is infinitely more orchestrated, something she rehearsed in the mirror to make sure she could pull it off to maximum effect. “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.”
“Are you?”
She sighs. “Come on, Guy. I’m not unreasonable. I’ll sign the papers.”
It’s got to be a trick. “Really?”
“I thought we should have one more hurrah before it’s over. You know, celebrate the way we used to.”
“Sorry, Marie. It’s over.”
“Well.” She offers me a mischievous smile and runs her eyes up and down my form. “Maybe if you don’t fuck me again, I won’t sign those papers. That might put a little damper on your…whatever you have going with the frumpy nobody. What do you see in her, anyway? I mean, if you’re gonna move on from me it should be with someone important.”
Scarlett is important.
She’s everything.
And I might have totally fucked it all up.
“No.”
She steps closer. “I’m sure we can compromise. C’mon Guy. This is how marriage works.”
“You’re insane.”
“You love my insanity.”
“I’m not sure I ever really did.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes. Her head turns away and her hair falls over the side of her face, blocking her from my view.
“No one ever does.” She releases a small laugh. “I thought we really had something, Guy.” She smiles at me wistfully and for a second, I remember how it was, before. The woman I fell for, the one who could let down her guard and be her true self instead of the one she thought the world wanted. I knew she had some baggage when we met. Sheltered, abandoned by her parents and raised mostly by nannies and house staff, there’s a reason she is the way she is. The problem is, she can’t change.
“We did. And I’m sorry, Marie, but it’s over.” I make an attempt to gentle my tone, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a rejection either way.
Her head snaps up. Her tone is sharp when she responds. “Fine. Be a prude. All I want is this one little thing. But if you would rather not, it’s fine, I’ll just drag everything out in court. You know, the longer we’re married, the more alimony you have to pay in the state of New York.”
Anger vibrates into my bones. How dare she? She knows every penny I don’t spend on essentials goes to a trust for the girls. But I doubt she really thinks about it. She doesn’t need my money, never has.
I stare at her, unblinking, guarding my roiling emotions like a wall. “If you don’t sign, I’ll get Oliver involved.” I don’t want to owe the bastard any more favors, but even that price is worth getting rid of Marie once and for all.
Marie’s bravado immediately falters and her face pales. “You wouldn’t.”
Damn. What does Oliver have on her? “You want to bet on it?”
She stares at me, all of her earlier bluster and swagger gone. Poof. “Fine,” she barks, picking up her coat where she left it on the counter. “Have your attorney send something over.”
She shoves through the door and is gone, like an earthquake that lasts less than a minute but leaves a year’s-worth of destruction in its wake.
I slump back against the counter and press the bottoms of my palms to my eyes, trying to quell the headache forming there. How did I ever fall for her act? She wasn’t like this. She was sweet and funny before everything turned. But now I can see through the bullshit, more clearly than before. What she strives for isn’t really important. Life isn’t about being seen in the gossip rags, or reality shows, or followers on social media. Yes, in my business optics are important to an extent, but I want people focusing on the food and not me. I’m not that person anymore. I want to spend time with my family and people I care about. And Scarlett is now a part of that.
A sharp ache twists in my chest.
Hopefully.
By the time I get home to see the girls, it’s their bedtime. We say goodnight to Clara and I ready them for bed. Then I go to the living room and try to breathe through the heaviness in my chest that’s as big as a boulder. I can’t stop seeing Scarlett’s haunted expression before she left. Like her heart was breaking, but it was no more than she expected.
I am not like one of her exes and I don’t want this, whatever it is between us, to be over.
My thumbs hover over the keys to tap out a text.
I’m sorry.
I backspace, deleting the words.
I didn’t mean
I delete those, too. A text will not suffice for this conversation.
Before I can second guess myself, I push the call button and press the phone to my ear.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Fuck. And then—
“Hello?” her voice is low, the word a little fuzzy around the edges.
“Did I wake you?”
She sighs. “No. I was just lying here.”
“I’m sorry. About Marie and everything.”
I count her soft breaths. One. Two. Three.
“I’m not sure if you have anything to apologize for,” she says softly.
“I do. I haven’t even seen Marie in nearly a year, but we are technically still married. She’s been putting off signing the papers because that’s just like her. I think she will, now. It’s only paper at this point. This thing between us, you and me, it happened so quickly…. But still. These are just excuses. I should have told you.”
She’s quiet for a few long seconds and my heart almost stops before she speaks. “Should you have, though? We aren’t in any kind of serious thing.”
Her words are true, I suppose, but it doesn’t stop a lance of panic from shooting straight through my heart. To refer to what’s between us with such indifference…. The sense of wrongness grows, filling my chest and making my head pound.
“Aren’t we?” I ask.
“We haven’t,” the words catch in her throat, “we haven’t really talked about what we are.”
“That’s true. Maybe we should talk about it.” I know she’s attracted to me, but she’s like a spooked horse. And this whole thing with the restaurant and her food truck…. It’s an unresolved issue I’m determined to resolve to both of our benefits. I just don’t know how. And in the meantime, I want her more than I want anything else. I’m half-tempted to give her the parking space, my restaurants, my staff, and my heart. But it’s too soon and too scary to say those words out loud.
“Friends?” she asks.
I grimace. “Maybe something slightly more than that?”
“Friends who have the best sex in the known universe?”
I chuckle and the weight in my chest lightens a notch. “In the known universe, huh? That’s a hefty title to live up to.”
“Something tells me you’re up to the challenge.”
I hesitate. “And friends who only have this amazing sex with each other and no one else?”
She gives a quiet chuckle, and the weight pressing on me is nearly gone. “I think I can handle that.”
“Well, that’s something.”
We sit on the phone in silence for a few long seconds, just listening to each other breathe. I don’t want to sever the connection. I wish she was here. But I also don’t want to push it.
I clear my throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
We hang up and I’m lighter and heavier at the same time because a realization occurs to me, latching its tentacles around the weird feeling in my chest and sinking into it like fingers sinking into putty.
I’ve only known Scarlett for a few weeks…not counting the first time we actually met a year ago. But it would pulverize me if she left—even more so than when Marie left. That was a dark time, but it’s a speck of dust compared to my feelings for Scarlett.
With Marie, it was all passion and excitement, but it was surface. We never talked about anything serious. She never talked to the girls, never really made an effort. With Scarlett, the passion is there, but it’s more. She’s like a sun shining through all the dark spots in my life. She’s present. She makes an effort for everyone around her, like she really cares. And I want to be around her, not just because of the sex but to see what she’ll say. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel. It’s invigorating and terrifying in equal measure.
The morning is hectic. Permits are coming through for Savor, which means we can open as soon as next week. I tell Oliver the good news and then press him for details on what kind of information he has on Marie that makes her run scared, but he’s not talking.
Then Oliver presses me about getting the lot purchased—again—and I have to think quick to put him off.
I want to have my cake and eat it too, literally, but I don’t know how. I tell Oliver I’m working on it and it will all be taken care of when Savor opens. That’s a lie that I hope to become a truth. Somehow.
When we hang up, stress is thumping a dull ache in my temples, but I shake it off. I want to see Scarlett, but it’s not until after lunch I can catch a break.
“Go see her.”
I glance up to see Carson standing in the doorway.
“She’s open. And you’ve been a cranky ass all day.”
“Fine.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
In less than a minute, I’m out the door and striding to her truck.
Fred is at the window, taking orders, and she yells into the back as I approach.
“Romeo, twelve o’clock,” Fred calls out.
“Thanks, Fred.”
The sound of her laughter-infused voice has me wound tighter than a spring.
The backdoor swings open and then Scarlett is there and she’s in front of me, smiling wide. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Seeing her makes everything in my body uncoil, and a new tension fills the space. “Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?”
She fidgets with her apron. “Actually, I have plans with Fred and Bethany.”
“Oh.” Is she putting me off because of everything that happened last night?
But then she’s quick to reassure me, reaching out a hand and placing it gently on my arm. “It’s not what you think; I do want to have dinner with you. I just can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”
“I can’t.” I rub the back of my head. “Ava has a school concert.”
“Well, maybe Fred can switch our plans?” She turns, her voice hopeful. “We can go out tomorrow night instead of tonight.”
“No can do. There’s a new episode of Doctor Who on tomorrow night.”
“You can’t adjust our plans because you want to watch some show?”
Fred spins around, mouth agape. “Some show? How dare you.”
I interject. “It’s okay. Night after tomorrow.”
Her smile washes away the stress of the day. “Then it’s a date.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”
“Okay.” She’s still smiling.
“Dress warm.”
“Okay.” The smile grows.
We stare at each other, my cheeks are hurting, and I wonder if my smile appears as goofy as hers and decide it most likely does, especially as I’m leaning toward her and Fred groans in the background. “Barf. Would you two get a room?”
I’m still going in for a kiss, but Fred’s words jar Scarlett enough that she leans to the side like she’s going in for a hug and we end up performing some kind of awkward half embrace and bungle the whole thing.
Scarlett bursts out laughing, and I pull away before I can make this situation even worse.
“I’ll see you.”
“Bye,” Scarlett says.
Fred calls out “Bye Guy!” Then in a lower tone that I can still hear, she says to Scarlett, “Your weird totally matches.”
I’m too giddy, already thinking about where to take Scarlett to wonder what she means.