Worse, if Flaubert had brought Dassault and the scene had devolved into him storming out of Nanine’s, his hopes had been shredded into a million pieces.
Dassault would double down on Nanine’s being blackballed.
They weren’t going to get their star.
He’d failed. Madison. The staff. His roommates. Nanine. Himself.
He straightened his shoulders. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had another situation to handle—for good.
When he reached the edge of the screens surrounding his family, he scanned the table. His mother and her friend, Tina, were being dramatic about how anyone could expect a woman to maintain a waistline after eating this much bread. His father and Tripp protested their wives’ waistlines were simply perfect. Ivey, the young girl who’d given him Easter eggs, only smiled demurely, looking every inch the kind of debutante his parents would want for him.
He was done playing this game. He stepped beyond the screens and set his weight. All eyes turned to him.
“Mother, Chef Madison was generous enough to seat you even though I told you we were booked. As a reward, you insulted her staff, and Chef Madison herself. I won’t stand for that.”
His father kicked back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say, boy?”
“Oh, he’s only being ornery because he’s not getting enough rest.” His mother sat back in her chair, her brow cocked as if daring him to contradict her. “Kyle, we didn’t mean to insult anyone. You know how we feel about bread. Sugar, you need to settle down. Come on and sit beside your mother. We’ve come a long way to see you, and you haven’t even said hello to our friends. Or sweet little Ivey here. She’s been dying to meet you again.”
He’d felt free after sending that last text to his mother, and now here they all were, as if nothing had happened. Their presence was dredging up more hurt and rage and a whole bunch of feelings going back to childhood. He found himself chuckling darkly. “You know that old saying, ‘Some things never change.’ That about sums up how I’m feeling right now. I meant what I said in my last text to you. Perhaps you and your guests might want to head back to your hotel.”
His father and the rest of the table grew eerily quiet while his mother fussed with her napkin, conjuring up her next negotiating point. Suddenly he realized where he’d gotten his contractual skills from. He’d watched her play this game since he’d taken his first steps, encouraging him every couple of feet with the proverbial carrot or stick.
“More than cranky, then.” She twirled her wedding ring and glanced at his father before returning her gaze to him. “Well, you sure are growing up, aren’t you? Trying to be your own man, and all. But I’m your mother, and I forgive you, and since we’re here, we might as well eat. I suppose wecouldput our bread to the side. After all, we did want to tell our friends that we ate here. Didn’t we, Tina?”
“Indeed, we did,” she answered, rubbing her stomach. “I mean, that lobster salad looks awfully good. Minus the bread, of course.”
He was getting a migraine. Was she really trying to save face here?
“That cinches it. We’ll stay,” his mother announced with a simpering smile. “But Kyle, you really need to train your people better. That chef of yours has a serious attitude. Then again, from what Paisley told us, we expected it. But still… Thinking she can talk to us like that.”
“Mother, Madison is the most beautiful, brilliant, strongest woman I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting.” He strode forward until he was standing over his mother. “In fact, if I’m lucky enough, she’ll make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me.”
His mother sucked in a sharp breath. “Kyle Taylor, I know you said you were involved with someone, but have you lost your mind? Your father and I don’t approve of that woman for you?—”
“I don’t care what you think.” That feeling of freedom was filling his chest now. “Madison is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You should know, I am not coming back to Austin. Ever. As far as I’m concerned, tonight is the last time we’ll ever see each other. You can finish your meal with the utmost graciousness and act like civilized people, or you can leave now. I don’t care either way.”
Everyone at the table was staring at him. His father stood up slowly, his hand going to his belt in a threatening posture. The threat didn’t make him sweat anymore. Progress…
He turned to Ivey. “I’m sorry if you came here under false pretenses, but you and I were never going to be a thing. I wish you all the best. Some guy is going to be lucky to have you. Excuse me.”
Leaving the space, he strode to the walk-in cooler and put his head against the cold rack inside.
God, he’d fucked up.
He should have been more firm. He should have put hisparents on a Do Not Seat list. He’d put Madison and the staff in a horrible position.
And not just one…
Had his willingness to pursue all avenues to win Nanine’s a star made him reckless? Blind to risks? Sure, Thea had come to him with the Christophe Flaubert idea, but he’d greenlit the strategy.
Now it seemed like he’d made everything worse.
He took a few deep breaths of the cold air. Second-guessing himself could come later, along with apologies. Right now, he had a staff to settle down and show his appreciation for.
Except how was he supposed to make amends to Madison?
He’d promised her he’d help her achieve her dream of winning the star.
He clenched his eyes shut in agony.
How could he live with himself if he’d failed?
