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Twenty-Three
Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.
Like having a professional work dinner with Brannon Knox on her first full workday after she returned to ThomKnox since proposing marriage to him.
Sure thing. No problem.
She was trying desperately to compartmentalize him, and work, and now that she’d entered Pestle & Pepper, she was determined to enjoy her damn self. There was a lot to be grateful for. Whenever she needed to feel loved, all she had to do was step foot into this warmly lit restaurant, be greeted by Mars’s infectious smile and order her favorite meal.
As if on cue, the owner, Mars, appeared around the corner like he’d sensed her. Round with heft showing he enjoyed his own cooking a great deal, he embraced her in a bear hug. She hugged him back, reminding herself that red eyes and a snotty nose was no way to greet her friend. Plus, Bran would be here any moment. She refused to let him see her in pieces.
“Your favorite corner booth,” Mars said as he walked her to the back of the restaurant. She liked being close to the kitchen, where she could hear the clatter of pans and Mars’s big voice. “We’ve missed you. Brannon Knox has been ordering takeout in your absence. Are you two sharing all those meals he’s having delivered?”
A safe assumption, but sadly...
“No.” She hated seeing her friend’s face droop with worry, so she added, “But he had quite a few of them delivered to me. They were delicious and amazing, of course. I’m meeting him here tonight, by the way. For work.”
“For work.” Mars sighed and took the seat across from her in the booth. “I’m sorry, love. That’s a shame.”
“Yes, it is.”
Mars nodded solemnly. “I will send out a special dessert for you. You can enjoy it while you wait.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“You’re my best taste-tester,” He peered at her over a small pair of wire-framed glasses, his eyes filled with wisdom and love. “It’s necessary.”
It was nice to have someone care about her this much. Tired of her own melancholy, she said, “I actually do have good news.”
“Oh?” Pausing at the end of the table, Mars waited.
“I visited my parents and we had a long, long talk.” She’d once told Mars he was like a surrogate father. When he asked if her father had passed, she said no, and told him a truncated version of her family drama. Since then, he’d proudly referred to himself as Papa Mars. “They want me to be more goal-oriented, but they love me. They’re worried about me. They want the best for me.”
“They sound like good parents to me.” He gripped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Dessert first. I insist.”
She nodded and he hustled away.
She’d settled in at ThomKnox with little fanfare today. Other than a visit from Royce and Taylor and later, Gia, the Knoxes welcomed her back like she’d never left. It was a huge blessing. That was the part of her work her parents didn’t see. She wanted to be part of a team. She wanted to matter. At ThomKnox, she did. They needed her—even if Bran didn’t.
But she couldn’t ask for more than he was willing to give. She understood that now. The next time her heart ran away with her brain like the dish with the spoon, she’d first have a conversation with the man she was dating to make sure he loved her back before she proposed.
A server delivered a glass of water while she kept an eye on the front door for her boss, a man she used to have dinner with followed by sweaty, delicious, naked time.
She couldn’t regret the time she’d spent with him, though. Life was a series of highs and lows, and even if what she and Bran shared was destined to end badly, she’d do it all over again. Loving Bran might well be part of her DNA. There was no removing it, so the only option left was learning to live with it.
“Dessert.” Mars settled a small, white ramekin in front of her with the addition of a glass of white wine. “Chocolate mousse with a surprise inside. I can’t come up with a name for it, though, so think about it for me, yeah?”
The chocolate dessert was topped with two strawberry slices in the shape of a heart and dusted with a delicate coating of powdered sugar. “It’s too pretty to eat.”
“Don’t tell my guest chef that. This is his first creation. But be honest,” he added, his tone low and serious. “Honesty is best.”
Mars was staring at her so she nodded her promise. “I will.”
Before she could lift her spoon, a figure appeared from the front door. Silhouetted in sunlight, Brannon Knox approached. God, he was beautiful and...wearing a tux?
At the table, he stood over her in, yes, a full tuxedo, his face partially obscured by a black mask. The same outfit he’d worn to the masquerade ball.
“What...are you doing?”
