Page 52 of Tastes Like Summer

Over Jonathan’s shoulder, Michael shoots me a look that could burn down entire empires.

“Shit,” I murmur.

“Diana, come here,” Jonathan waves me over with a warm smile. “Come meet my friend.”

My body decides now is really not the time to move, actually. It would rather remain seated in the comfort of this luxury SUV, thank you very much. But I guess Jonathan has other ideas because, like the gentleman that he is, he offers his hand for me to take. I look at it, and then at Michael—Michael, who looks like he would bite off Jonathan’s hand off in a heartbeat.

This is not good. Not good at all. For anyone.

“I… I’m okay, thank you so much.”

With a quizzical brow, Jonathan nods and pulls his hand away, giving me space.

For a split second, I consider pretending like Michael and I don’t know each other, sure he’d play along. He needs Jonathan’s money at the end of the day, right? So why wouldn’t he? But then I think back to all those romance movies where the main characters play the same game, pretending they have nothing to do with each other, and all hell breaks loose. Every time, I’m left frustrated for the entire movie wondering why they couldn’t be grown-ups and just tell the truth. So I do: “Michael and I actually know each other already.”

“You do?” Jonathan asks, thrilled by this information.

“Yes. Um, our girls go to day camp together.”

Michael’s eyes flash, his hands fisting at his sides, lips pressed together into a thin line. I thank god Jonathan’s back is to him, because there’s no denying that, if I really were to be murdered tonight, it would be by Michael. I begin to wonder whether maybe it might’ve been better to just deny his existence at this point.

“Fantastic! Have you tried his food then? If not, you’re in for a real treat.”

“Yes, he’s great,” I tell him. “You’re great, Michael.” I clear my throat.

Michael laughs once, humorlessly, and nods like a madman. “Right. Fucking fantastic. Well,” he says, clapping his hands. “Let me show you guys what I have in store for your romantic dinner tonight.” He spits the words out like they’re the most disgusting things he’s ever had to say, leading the way into the barn’s makeshift dining room.

When he dips into the kitchen after seating us at a set table for two, I do everything I can to avoid Jonathan’s gaze. And because he didn’t become a self-made billionaire by being an idiot, he clears his throat once and asks, “So I’m assuming you guys dated at some point?”

“Um,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Not exactly, no. But also, not no?” I chuckle awkwardly, praying we’re all evolved enough to get through the night. “We’ve never dated but… There might’ve been a thing.”

Jonathan nods thoughtfully.

“If this is too much, if it’s too uncomfortable for you or Michael… Maybe you should drop me off at home. I don’t want to risk this opportunity for him. He… He definitely deserves the chance to be able to launch his new restaurant. I’ve already messed up by showing up with another man; I don’t want to ruin his night by inadvertently causing more conflict and ruining his chances at making his dreams come true. I already know how much this means to him and all the hard work he’s put into it.”

Jonathan stares at me, silent. “You care about him,” he says finally.

“I—” I can’t help the way my voice catches, the stinging in my eyes, or the knot in my throat that hasn’t gone away all night.

“You do.” His voice is softer now, eyes kind. And that’s all he’s ever been with me—kind, patient, understanding. “I think, perhaps, you might be on the wrong date, Diana.” He smiles, taking the bottle of champagne from the bucket beside the table and fills both our glasses.

“Maybe,” I admit.

Jonathan laughs, surprising me. “You look terrible.”

I sniff once. “I feel terrible.”

“Don’t.”

“You’re such a good guy, and I’m⁠—”

“Here,” he says, taking both glasses and passing one to me. “Let’s toast to our new friendship—nothing more. And then I think you should probably get up and go talk to him. I’ve known Michael for a while, and I have never seen that reaction out of him. Never seen him look at another woman like that.”

This makes me laugh, a little awkward, wet and sniffling. We cheers once, just like he says. The champagne is crisp and cold and just what I need to scrounge up enough courage to talk to Michael when Jonathan says, “Go to him.”

I push through the kitchen metal doors in one swift movement, scaring my staff and Lexi. Gritting my teeth, I lean over the counter, hanging my head between my shoulders as I stare down at my work boots.

She is on a date.