She stopped short when she spotted Kyle sitting at a corner table, a bottle of Louis XIII beside him. There was a lone drink in front of him. Her staff paused when she entered, and she noted they had brandy snifters beside them as they finished up. So, he had taken care of the front of the house and shown his appreciation for a job well done.
Like a good partner did. Like the head of The Paris Roommates Group did. Didn’t it only prove how integral he was to Nanine’s and the group’s other two businesses?
They locked gazes. Her heart pulsed thickly in her chest. His every thought and feeling filled his baby blue eyes. He knew what was coming, and he planned to fight her. Didn’t he know she wished things were different? If only they could ignore reality and keep living in their little Romance Shrine…
But there was no more putting off reality—for either of them.
God, how were they going to get back to what they’d been? They’d promised each other they’d always be best friends. Right now, she just didn’t see how she could return to only having that part of him when she’d had everything. Being with him, completely, had fulfilled her in ways she could never have imagined. How was she supposed to be satisfied with simply talking to him and spending time with him like a friend when she knew what it was like to be in his arms, to fall asleep beside him—to wake up every day knowing he was there?
Even worse, how was she supposed to handle seeing him possibly moving on with someone else?
Crossing to him because she wasn’t a coward, she gestured to the bottle. “Thank you for taking care of the front of the house. I’d just finished a drink with the kitchen. This was my next stop.”
“I figured they deserved some Louis XIII,” he said softly, for her ears only. “It’s on me.”
Because a glass of Louis XIII cost more than most of them made in one night, and this was his way of apologizing and showing appreciation. “You should probably offer my kitchen staff a shot. I only brought out the rare Chartreuse.”
Normally he might have laughed. Instead, he stood slowly, his navy suit still impeccable. “I’ll tell them I’d like to thank them tomorrow night with the Louis XIII if that’s allright with you.” Even now he was ceding to her authority in the kitchen. “I’m sure everyone is eager to go home. I know I am.”
There was that word again.
Home.
Spike would be waiting. Had he been alone this whole time? She had to bite the inside of her cheek again. God, she was going to miss that silly little puppy. This is what she got for having pets. She was never doing it again.
“That would be nice, thank you,” she responded, hating how formal it sounded. “I’ll have Claude tell everyone they’ll be getting the Chartreuse tomorrow. Like a drink swap.”
He nodded, his gaze scanning her face. Yeah, he knew she was close to running out the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
She walked over to Claude and thanked him for his exceptional service. He demurred, of course, and while his manner was professional, she could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was an honor to serve beside you tonight, Chef,” he responded crisply in French. “I hope you will not mind me being so bold as to say that Nanine would be proud of you. The entire staff is behind you.”
Her throat thickened. Yeah, he knew the ensuing tumult was going to be hell. “Thank you, Claude.”
She moved on to their sommelier and the rest of the staff, doing her best to thank them. As she gazed around the newly renovated Nanine’s, she felt her eyes start to burn. They’d poured so much love into this place. Sawyer’s artwork pulled at her heart, especially the ethereal painting of Nanine they’d hung on the main wall to honor the woman who’d started it all.
They would all have to speak of what had happened tonight.
But first she had to talk to Kyle.
People whispered soft goodbyes as they left. When Kyle finally emerged from the kitchen, he held her coat and Pierre’s cage and throw. “Ready? Fabian and I closed down the back.”
Of course. Kyle had a strategy even now.
She took care of Pierre before reaching for her coat. Kyle only cocked a brow at her and held it up, like he intended to help her into it, something he’d been doing since they’d gotten together.
Deciding to fold her arguments for something more important, she allowed it. But she froze as his arm came around her after she’d shrugged it on.
“Before we talk about this,” he quietly said, “I want you to promise me you’ll remember how much we love each other…that we’re best friends.”
She bit her lip, the pain nearly drowning her.
NotI love you.
No, that would be too easy.
He was reminding her ofeverythingthey’d shared.
