Page 113 of Still Yours
“I don’t know.” I sit back and shove my plate aside. “I’m just thinking of …”
His expression turns sympathetic. “Your mom?”
“Yeah.”
I should finish there. Any person in my corner would be satisfied with that answer. But my mind has other ideas. I’m wondering how Maisy’s doing without her good friend beside her on cribbage Fridays. Or if Rome is getting by without the free labor he loved to work into the ground and I enjoyed, too. Grunt work, yes, done by the real me, without recognition or reputation. I’m crossing my fingers that Devon’s stayed out of trouble and away from drugs, wondering if I should’ve threatened him further—with wellness in mind now, of course.
I’m thinking about Noa. If she misses me. How she looked in the Stalinski house and how the house looked with her in it. Her laughter coaxing Ma out of misery, the delicious smells drawing us all into the kitchen for family meals. Her sweet smile. Her judgment-free touch. The way she regarded me as a regular man, her man, no spotlight, no expectations, other than to be a good one.
My stomach lurches. I’ve lost my appetite.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Aaron muses, “I’d say you’re homesick.”
I grunt at him. “I’m fine.”
I’m wondering what Noa’s doing right now.
Is Rome prepared for the coming freeze?The weather app on my phone is still tailored to Falcon Haven. I should change it but haven’t gotten around to it.
“I’m told Falcon Haven sure looks pretty in February,” Aaron says.
“Fuck,” I mumble, internally lecturing myself to snap out of it and get back to work.
I pull out the card, opening it and reading.
To the worst sous chef I’ve ever had the displeasure of teaching,
Your girl is doing wonderfully. I’m overnightingyou thisdelicious Financier pastry she made without her knowledge.Not because I’m thinking of you, more because I feel sorry for both of you.
I’ve never met a more frustrating pair, other than myself.
Noa excels at her position in my restaurant and was accepted into Le Cordon Bleu. She’s doing fabulous, as you’d expect, but she is not the same.
If you would get over your own ego—as I have defeated mine by writing you this asinine note—you will come to her.
Today is my last day in Paris. I’ll be re-joining my father and daughter in Falcon Haven. The last place I want to be is in a small town in the middle of nowhere, but it currently houses the people I hold the dearest.
You would know.
Your lady is all alone and unhappy in Paris.
Think about that.
~ S.
“Well? Who’s it from?” Aaron asks.
“My Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future,” I mutter while pushing to my feet. “The arrogant fuck.”
Aaron asks, without being prompted, “What should I tell the CEO of Millspace?”
I’ve never been more honest with myself.
My golden girl is waiting for me when she shouldn’t. I should’ve been there from the beginning.
I promised her I was back. That I wouldn’t leave her again. For a brief, insane moment, I entertained the idea of living without her.
As my mother would say,get your head to stop wobbling and make her yours. She’s already a Stalinski, you dolt.
