Page 31 of Return to Whitmore
Vincent blushed with surprise. “Very cool, Steve.”
Charlotte looked from Vincent to Steve and back again, realizing that after she’d shown up last night, Vincent had told Steve what had happened. Steve looked intrigued.
“A friend of Vincent’s is a friend of mine,” Steve said. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Something easy,” Charlotte said. “White wine or something.”
“No can do,” Steve said. “I’ll only make the best for Vincent’s old friend. What about a negroni?”
Charlotte’s lips twisted into a smile. “All right.”
Vincent laughed. “You’re shameless, Steve.”
“I should hope so,” Steve said, beginning the cocktail.
Charlotte slid onto a stool alongside her ex-boyfriend and first love and told herself to act normal.
Vincent looked at her the same way he once had all those years ago: like she was the only woman he’d ever known how tolove. It was a lie, and Charlotte knew it was a lie, but even she couldn’t resist telling herself it was partially true. She so needed it.
“You probably don’t have a ton of time,” she said to him. “You’re head chef.”
“We’re not so busy tonight,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the packed restaurant.
Charlotte laughed. “It doesn’t look too stressful at all.”
“You get used to it in this business,” Vincent said.
Charlotte’s heart sloshed with a thousand questions. “I never imagined you’d do something as grand as this.”
Vincent chuckled. “You thought less of me, I guess?”
“No! I mean, I just didn’t think you’d escape what your parents wanted for you. That’s all.” Charlotte stewed in shame, hating that she’d said it like that.
But Vincent laughed again. “Don’t worry. I know what you mean. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself.”
Steve tapped a negroni down in front of her and a small beer in front of Vincent. “We’ll save the hard stuff for after your shift, buddy.”
“Appreciate you keeping me in line,” Vincent said.
Charlotte and Vincent clinked glasses. For the first time, Charlotte realized that Vincent wasn’t wearing his wedding ring, but remembered Addison’s first husband, how he’d always removed his wedding ring before he’d taken women scuba diving. Perhaps Vincent didn’t want to wear his ring while he cooked. It was a health hazard or something.
Or maybe he frequently met women here. Perhaps he was a bad guy.
“Why are you here?” Vincent asked, mystified.
Charlotte laughed.
“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Vincent said.
“No, it’s okay. I ask myself the same question sometimes,” Charlotte said.
“How do you answer yourself?”
Charlotte swirled with potential answers: that she was broke after another failed documentary, that her missing brother was sometimes the only ally she had in the world, or that she couldn’t really afford Manhattan anymore. There was also the rumor of the Whitmore treasure, but she’d never really believed in it. She couldn’t.
“Nantucket is my home,” she said finally.
“Why didn’t you reach out before?” he asked. “You knew I was still here, didn’t you?”
