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The car stopped,and I climbed out. My legs stretched long. I heard the piano before I walked inside. Marguerite smiled. Her red shawl was pinned with a red rose tonight.
“Your lady friend is already waiting for you.” She grinned knowingly. “I remembered her.”
“You remember everyone, Marguerite.” I stooped to kiss her on each cheek.
“I don’t have that many customers,” she replied.
“That’s the charm of the place.” I moved past her into the candlelit bar. My eyes landed on Kennedy, sitting at the same table we had shared nearly a month ago.
Her hair cascaded around her shoulders. It was blonder and more sun-kissed now than when we had met. She was wearing a black jumpsuit. She somehow made jersey material look sexy as hell. She was breathtaking in every way, and I had fucked up any chance we had.
“Hi.” I stood at the edge of the table.
“Hi.” She looked up. Her eyes shimmered. The flame on the candle sputtered as the wax dripped. “I didn’t know if you would show up.”
I pulled the chair away from the table. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” I replied.
I looked around. “Where’s Kimble?”
“At home. I wanted to see you alone.”
I sat. I wanted her to know how sorry I was we had traveled so far from where we started. I took responsibility for destroying the first glimmer of light in my life. For humiliating her. For pushing her away. For breaking her trust. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to tell her all of it. It didn’t help that Anthony was outside, keeping the car running.
“Thank you. For meeting me. I know it’s strange after what happened today.”
“What? This awkward? How you annihilated me at the bank?” I tried to smile, but there was tension in my chest, keeping my lungs from taking a full breath. It was hard to believe these were my last minutes in New Orleans.
“It wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was business. Isn’t that what you told me?” she asked plainly.
I shook my head. “It was stupid of me. Fuck, Kennedy. We became parts of the game. And neither one of us won today. We should have played it our own way. I’m sorry it’s ending this way.”
“What do you mean ending?” Her eyes darted back and forth. It was hard to imagine I wasn’t going to see them again. The green flames I dreamed about.
“I’m taking the red-eye to Paris tonight.”
Her face paled. “Why? For how long? When are you coming back?”
“I’m not.”
“But that can’t be—”
“It doesn’t matter why. I’m leaving tonight and I’m not coming back to New Orleans. I’m taking over all the Corban operations in Paris. We have an extensive vineyard operation in the champagne business. You’d probably love it, actually. Did you order any? I can ask Marguerite to bring you a ’98—”
“I don’t care about champagne right now.” Her voice tinged with rage. “You didn’t mention Paris before.”
“I didn’t know,” I admitted.
“It’s because of the hotel?” Her eyes widened. “Is it a punishment? A penance? This is because I beat you today. This is about the Vieux Carre.”
I didn’t want to lie to her during our last meeting, but why make her feel worse? I shook my head. “I’m taking over the European arm. It needs to be done.” I pressed my lips together. “But the text you sent. I thought I should stop by and say goodbye. Tell you I’m sorry about what happened at my apartment.” The words came out mangled. If she had sent it thirty minutes later, I would have already been at the airport. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“I hope you enjoy New Orleans, Kennedy.”
“But you can’t go. Not after what I found out,” she whispered.
“And what did you find out?”
She exhaled. The candle wavered. “My father told me tonight about the merger offer. I know what he proposed.” She scanned my face. “The offer.” She couldn’t say the words.
