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I scroll further down the page. My stomach clenching in on itself when I don’t find what I’m looking for. I go back to the amount given. And stare numbly at the number.
It’s not enough. Even with my savings, it’s not anywhere near enough.
NINETEEN
Kenzi
Heart down around my flip-flops, I press my finger to the doorbell of Pete and Simon’s beach-side villa. Simon’s been texting me all afternoon. Full of epic lunch ideas and wonderful desserts, no doubt. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t opened any of them. I blow out slowly and stare at my toes. But I can’t not let him know that my circumstances have changed. That I might not be able to make this work any time soon.
The plan had been for us to start right away on merging my vision for the menu with his style of cooking. That was before the bank had thrown a huge spanner in the works.
This would be much easier if I only had my own disappointment to deal with. Simon’s whirlwind of ideas and excitement and the fact that he’s one hundred percent in and behind me makes not having the money to get things up and running right now sting even more. What kind of idiot puts the wheels of a plan in motion without the money squarely in the palm of her hand?
The dizzy blonde kind, apparently.
The door swings open. “Kenzi, darling. Twice in one day.” Still in white linen pants and his cerise pink polo, Simon opens his arms and steps aside to let me in.
Goosebumps lift over my skin at the swift drop in temperature from the sticky night air outside to the air-conditioned hallway. I could have just called, but that wouldn’t have been fair. He deserves to be told face-to-face that the restaurant might not be happening for the foreseeable future.
Hand on my back, he ushers me through the open plan, minimalist living area to where Pete’s pouring red into glasses obviously meant for giants. “Pete, pour another. we have company and lots to celebrate.”
I force a smile when Pete looks up. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing him out of his suit. Black hair swept back, loose gray sweatpants and a tight black T-shirt, he looks more like a rock star than the manager of a five-star hotel. My eyes, as always, are drawn to the colorful tattoos that cover both his arms as he reaches up to the glass-doored cabinet for another glass.
“I shouldn’t… I’m not staying. I just came to…”
He pours me one anyway.
My smile falls as I take the offered glass. “Thank you.”
“Everything okay, Kenzi?” Pete tilts his head as he takes in whatever my face is doing.
Dragging my top lip between my teeth, I shake my head. Not okay. Not even nearly okay.
“Come. Sit.”
I turn to the sound of Simon’s voice. Spread over the dark wood table that separates the kitchen from the living room are recipe books filled with florescent pink sticky notes. Gran’s open in the middle of them. I gave him it this morning. Her swirling letters practically jump from the pages, and my heart sinks a little more.
“I’ve been busy.” He grins, lifting his shoulders in an unapologetic shrug as he pulls one of the high-backed leather chairs out for me.
I take an unladylike slug of my wine before I sit, earning raised brows from both men.
“Simon.” My shoulders sag. I stare at the deep red liquid in my glass. “I jumped the gun.” I don’t look up even when the seat opposite me is dragged from beneath the table. “On top of my savings, I was counting on a grant from the bank to get the restaurant up and running.” My eyes sting. I squeeze them shut. This whole situation is mortifying enough, crying will only make me look even more ridiculously unprofessional. “The money I do have available is barely enough to cover the contractors. It won’t stretch to cover furniture or any of the kitchen fittings I showed you. I have money tied in a trust, but it’ll be a year before I can get to it.”
A warm hand covers mine over the table.
I glance up into Simon’s concerned eyes and force myself to go on. “I was expecting them to give me more money.” Lips forced into a wobbly smile, I turn to where Pete’s still leaning against the counter. “Looks like I’ll be staying at the hotel after all.”
“You know I’d love that, Kenzi.” He pushes off from the counter and pulls out the chair beside me. “But have you really exhausted all of your options though? Stay for dinner. We can put our heads together and see if we can come up with something. Maybe a loan on top of the grant?”
A plan D. Mylo’s face pops into my head. Another call I haven’t had the guts to answer. Fuck my life. How can one day implode everything.
“A loan isn’t gonna happen.”My mom won’t let it.I take a sip of my wine, and my gaze falls back to the mass of recipes on the table. A knot forms in my throat. “I think I’m just gonna head home, guys.”
“Kenzi, no. Stay, let’s talk it out. I’m sure we can figure out a way around this.” Simon squeezes my fingers.
Draining the rest of my wine, I slip my hand from beneath his. “Unless you can magic me up some furniture for nothing, I’m not sure we can.”
TWENTY
