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Al slid a hand into hers, and the spark between their palms turned into a ball of fire. “And then we can fuck.”
Chapter Five
The weekend rain let up in time for Al to take her tablet and wine out to the pool for her regular Sunday night call. While summer in New Orleans had been hotter than the face of the sun, the Big Easy’s winter was a vast improvement over New York City’s version. With the radiant heat from her rental’s pool, jeans and a sweatshirt were all she needed to keep her toasty as the stars came out to play above. She had just gotten settled on a lounger with her wine glass in hand and her tablet propped on her knees when the video call from Ezra rang. She accepted the call, and her best friend’s handsome face filled the screen.
“Hey, you.” Ezra smiled wide, the wrinkles deepening at the corners of his bright blue eyes. “I see you started without me. What are we drinking?”
She snagged the bottle off the side table and held it, label out, in front of her tablet’s camera. “Aglianico, 2016 vintage.”
Opening bottles from La Montagna Nebbiosa’s cellar had become tradition for their weekly calls. Granted, it was ultimately the responsibility of their winemaker, Archer Scott, to decide which older vintages were released, but she and Ez liked getting their own arms around the inventory of the winery Rosin Hospitality had purchased.
“So, then,” Ezra said as he tapped his chin dimple with a finger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It’s cool but pleasant there, and you had stew for dinner. Something you made in the slow cooker and can eat all week.”
She rolled her eyes at herself. “I gotta start mixing it up.”
“We were married thirty-plus years. I know your food and wine habits, and you’ve been there in New Orleans going on a year now, meaning we’ve been having these calls for fifty-two weeks now, so I’ve got the weather and wine pairings down.”
“Smart-ass,” she said with zero animosity, only a smile for the person who knew her best in the world.
A glass of the same deep garnet wine appeared over Ezra’s shoulder, and then so did Noah, Ezra’s husband. Noah had been Tyler’s childhood best friend, but they’d lost him for thirteen years, Noah on the run from his abusive father. Ezra had happened upon him last fall, all grown up and cheffing at a small-town diner in North Carolina. They’d reconnected, fallen in love, and their family had gotten back a much-missed member.
Ezra took the offered glass and tipped his face up for a kiss. “Thanks, baby.”
A quick peck later, Noah shifted his gray gaze to the screen. “Hey, Al.”
“Hey yourself. Greg says thank you for the demi-glace.”
“Least I could do for the regular crab shipments.”
Ezra spun on his stool and pointed out their eat-in kitchen’s west-facing windows. “You do know the ocean is right over that hill?”
“You do know the crab that comes out of it is shit?”
Ezra playfully shoved his husband, then lunged sideways, spilling wine over the rim of his glass, as he snagged Noah’s belt loop and hauled him back for another kiss. “Seafood snob.”
Al laughed, loving their antics, loving seeing her best friend so relaxed and happy. “He is a chef, sweetie, and a damn good one. He’s earned the right to be a seafood snob.”
“Thank you,” Noah said as he ruffled Ezra’s curls, then disappeared off-screen. Not far, though, just on the other side of the kitchen island, if Al had to guess by the direction and volume of his voice. “Speaking of, what do we need to plan to make next weekend?”
“Are you all sure? I feel bad asking everyone to schlep here when we were all just together a week ago.”
Ezra shook his head. “Don’t want to hear it. Tyler has to come out there anyway to visit potential new sites with Greg and Tony.” They’d been trying for over a year to open a second Dram location, but Greg’s bad luck at launching restaurants had returned with a vengeance. “More importantly, it’s Hanukkah. We’re celebrating it as a family, and yes, you were just here, but you’ve been here for every birthday, anniversary, and other major holiday this past year, so this time we’re coming to you.”
Her chest warmed, both from the wine and from her family’s devotion, especially Ezra’s. Four years ago, they were ships passing in the night, two overworked professionals, best friends whose sexual needs had diverged but who still loved each other dearly, just differently in their fifties than they had in their twenties. When they’d dissolved their marriage, their friendship could have dissolved too, but they’d fought like hell for their family and for each other. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He tipped his glass to her, then took another sip. “And we get to take care of you too. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you need it.”
She reclined in the lounger and let her eyes drift closed. “Client wants to do one last deal. Year-end sign and close.”
A former venture capitalist, Ezra didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the tight timeline. He’d been there, done that, been that client. “Well, at least Hanukkah falls early this year.”
“I’m still planning to make it to Martha’s Vineyard for Christmas.” While their family was Jewish, their daughter-in-law’s, Sloan, wasn’t, so their grandkids were being raised multifaith, which meant Christmas with Sloan’s family. Not a hardship, as her family included Greg and her ex-husband, Miller Sykes, a Michelin-star chef. “I’m gonna need some of Miller’s cooking by then.”
Noah’s laugh carried over the banging pots and pans. “I won’t tell Greg you said that.”
She raised her voice for him to hear. “Thank you!” Then lowered it back to normal for Ezra. “How did I become the workaholic?”
“You always were a workaholic. I was just so much worse.”
