Page 73 of Right With You
Still.
Luc was good to me, and I dared say,forme. Instead of letting me get spun up and sob all over his shirt, he dove in. He steadied me in a stressful time. He refused to let me creep out and help him when a rush popped up right before closing, insisting he could handle it and that I needed to focus.
He was right. And while I was back there, sure that if he ran into a problem he’d holler and I could decorate the special order just the way I’d envisioned, there it was. That joy I hadn’t felt in far too long. A pleasure at creating delicious things for someone, a delight in the simplicity of the work.
Closing came and he appeared in the kitchen, set a soft kiss to my lips, gave me a heated look that made my toes curl, and left for work.
Liz waved outside the door as I moved to lock it behind him, so I yanked it open. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Got any leftovers?” she asked, face alarmingly blank.
I narrowed my eyes. “Three options. All yours if you want. But… why the spy face?”
A small smile broke through then. “Spy face? I feel like that’s an insult.”
She followed me behind the counter and into the back, washing her hands at the sink after I did. As we dried, I explained. “It’s just that look you have when you’re keeping everything close to the vest.”
One brow raised. “One could also call thatdonut maker face.”
“Touché. But I’ve been working on that.” Her awareness of my cagey tendencies, even after only a few months of knowing me, should’ve caused me the usual combination of hurtful pride and shame, but instead I just felt grateful she got it.
“I’m just here to check in. The fake engagement thing is coming to an end and I’m wondering what’s next.”
I held out a tray of three donuts and she picked one, promptly taking a large bite.
“Are you the emissary for everyone?” I asked, strongly suspecting she somehow got put up to this. Not that she wouldn’t come on her own, but Dove was running around working three jobs, cleaning out her house, managing her grandmother, and probably six other things I had no idea about.
She shoved another portion into her mouth and chomped down, once again giving me spy face.
“Okay. Well. I’m good. I feel…” I looked around at the sparkling industrial kitchen where I’d just spent the morning working on the special order boxed on one of the steel worktables. My heart felt peaceful and hopeful and all kinds of things I hadn’t felt at work in so long, let alone about someone else. Especially a man. “I feel hopeful.”
She chewed her last bite and raised a brow.
“I just mean, I’m enjoying time with him. And that’s progress for me. So even if this thing crashes and burns, it’s been good for me. A good experiment.” There’d be fallout, but I would handle it. I’d gotten stronger, hadn’t I?
She brushed off her fingers and dabbed the napkin I handed her to her lips. “That’s fantastic. Can I completely overstep and say something weird?”
“Uh, sure?” She was pretty straightforward, so I couldn’t deny her. Plus… what on earth would she say?
“I’ve taken a chance on being with someone for… a time. I convinced myself it’d be fun while it lasted. That I’d walk away unscathed and grateful when the time came.”
Her eyes zeroed in on mine and I swallowed hard when she said, “That man, as you know, was Kenny.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. She praised the glorious donut and accepted the other two to hand out at work when she returned. We hugged, and I locked the door behind her.
And I didn’t cry. Because she and Kenny weren’t me and Luc, and that was okay. They were something magic, something meant to be like a romance novel, and our little trial had been a fleeting thing. A shooting star compared to a constellation.
I’d made huge strides in several ways during this bizarre period with Luc, and I didn’t want to feel bad about that. I didn’t want to dread how horrible it’d feel when that “for now” ended. I couldn’t.
And so I decided not to.
* * *
Now I paced his living room having thought of him obsessively all day and wished we’d had a few more minutes before we had to rush out the door to yet another Devereaux family dinner.
We needed a moment to ourselves and yet we wouldn’t have it until after dinner at the soonest. Michele and Aurelie would ride with us, and he’d walked in from work ten minutes ago, delivered a devastating smile, and jumped in the shower with a, “I’ll be ready in ten.”
Right on time, he exited the bathroom in yet another gorgeous suit, this time with a deep navy hue. I shifted in my heels, restless and almost aching for time with him. We needed to talk—about this morning, about last night, about… everything. Liz’s caution, or testimony, or whatever it had been was ringing in my ears. And yet, I also just wanted to rip his suit off and have my way with him.
