"This is over-kill,” I mutter under my breath.
"This is Richard," Victor whispers back, his hand finding mine. "Remember—united front. We're happy. We're stable. We're everything he's not."
"Got it. Happy. Stable. Not recently arrested in a man-thong."
Victor's mouth twitches. "Exactly."
I look up and notice two other people are seated at the table—a woman in her sixties with sharp eyes and sharper jewelry, and a man in his forties who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Victor!" Richard stands, arms wide. "Welcome, welcome! And here comes the now famous Mrs. Kade!"
He says it like he's announcing a circus act.
"Harper," I say, extending my hand. "It's lovely to see you again.”
“You too, my darling. The pleasure is all mine." Richard's handshake lingers slightly too long. "I have to say, that wedding video of yours was quite something. Very... modern."
"Very drunk," I reply smoothly, and the woman at the table laughs.
"I like her already," she says. "I'm Sonia Talbot, CulinaryVision board member. This is Robert Martinez, also on the board."
Robert nods politely but doesn't smile. Victor and I take our seats across from each other—a strategic choice, I assume, so we can read each other's faces during conversation.
"So," Sonia says, studying me over her wine glass. "How did you two really meet? And please tell me it wasn't actually at that video game chapel."
"We met on a plane," I say, because it's the truth. "I accidentally baptized him in tomato juice."
Victor's eyes meet mine across the table, and I can see him fighting a smile. "She has terrible volleyball reflexes."
Sonia is smiling now. "And Vegas?"
"Was supposed to be separate trips," Victor says, his eyes still on me. "Her sister's bachelorette party. My acquisition meetings. We ran into each other at a club."
"And decided to get married?" Robert asks skeptically.
"We decided to stop fighting what we both wanted," I correct, and I realize I'm not entirely acting. "The chapel was just us finally admitting it."
Victor's expression changes—something vulnerable flickering across his handsome face before he locks it down.
Richard clears his throat. "Well. How... romantic." He doesn't sound convinced. "Though I’ll admit, Victor, I never thought impulsive decisions were your style. Some might even say it shows questionable judgment."
Victor's jaw tightens, but I speak before he can.
"Good thing it wasn't impulsive, then," I say pleasantly. "We'd been circling each other for months before Vegas. The chapel was just the excuse we needed."
Sonia raises her glass. "To excuses, then. May we all be so lucky."
We toast, and shortly after, dinner finally begins.
The first course arrives—oysters on the half shell, arranged on a bed of crushed ice with mignonette sauce and lemon wedges. They're perfect—briny and cold, tasting like the ocean in the best possible way.
I watch Victor dispatch his with ease, and I'm suddenly aware that this man probably eats at Michelin-starred restaurants the way I eat takeout.
"These are beautiful," I say, squeezing lemon over one. "Kumamoto?"
Sonia looks impressed. "You know your oysters."
"I host a cooking show. Comes with the territory."
