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He laughs like I’m joking. Not the way Fallon does it, where it’s like he’s so full of affection that it tumbles out in a laugh. With Bernard, it seems like he’s observing some bumbling, naïve child who does something cute. I’m so sick of people looking at me like that! I’m forty-fucking-seven years old! When will it end?
“Jen, there’s something between us. I know you feel it. I want you to come to Paris with me. I’m opening a new restaurant, and you will be my head pastry chef. I have a residence in Saint-Germain and a vacation home on the Mediterranean. You’ll have free access to both.”
Um, what?
“You want me to work for you?” I feel like I’ve lost my mind. What the hell is happening?
“I want you to work with me. And live with me. Be with me.”
Okay. Working in Paris under a celebrated pastry chef—très cool. Having him proposition me as if this is a done deal? Insinuating that we’d be together more than professionally? Not fucking cool.
“Listen, Bernard,” I start, palms up.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” He takes another step closer to me, pushing me up against the wall. “I’ve been looking for someone whose talent matches mine. You’re nearly my equal in every way, Jen. You’re perfect for me.”
Nearly his equal? What the hell kind of compliment is that supposed to be?
Staring into this man’s—this stranger’s—eyes, I see nothing but an odd sort of light shining in his irises. He doesn’t know me. Doesn’t see me. All he wants is some doll he can insert into his perfect life. He’s presenting it to me like he’s doing me a favor. It’s a done deal, and he’s just telling me about it.
Curious about how he’ll respond, I ask, “What if I wanted to stop baking?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He snorts. “Why would you throw away an opportunity like this? You’ll be the face of a prestigious restaurant with my name on it!”
Calm settles over me. Bernard doesn’t want me. He doesn’t even know me. He’s built up this image in his head of who I am—a pastry chef that he can shape and mold into the woman he wants.
The same way my first boyfriend wanted me to be the mother of his children instead of my own person. The same way my parents wanted me to be a mini version of them.
For the first time in my life, I square my shoulders, and it doesn’t make me sick to say no to a great opportunity. A year ago, I would have jumped at the chance to work in Paris. I thought it was my dream.
But dreams change.
I sidestep away from Bernard and shake my head. “I’m sorry, Bernard, that’s not what I want.”
His face twists. “You’d throw away this opportunity for what? For that criminal?”
I freeze as his words clang through me. “What are you talking about?”
“Darling,” my mother’s voice says behind me, “there’s something we need to tell you.”
“And there’s something I need to tell you!” Dorothy pops her head out of the café, a leopard-print scarf tied over her head. Chunky turquoise earrings dangle from her ears as she spreads her arms wide, a tumbler of alcohol sloshing in one hand. Her other finger points at me. “You. Are. Incredible!”
Agnes, looking very sophisticated in a new outfit Trina must have picked out for her, appears at her side and puts her hand around Dorothy’s bicep to drag the drunk older woman back inside. “Get a grip, Dorothy. I knew whiskey was a bad idea.”
“Whiskey is never a bad idea.” She pauses, throwing me a serious look. “Unless you’re already sad, in which case whiskey is a very bad idea.”
“Excuse me,” my mother interjects, her brows pinched. “We are busy.”
Agnes glares, not in the least bothered that in heels, my mother is nearly six feet tall and Agnes is about four foot nine. She just snorts and shakes her head. “You’re worse than Dorothy, and that’s saying a lot.”
“You know, Agnes, if you weren’t so horrible, you’d be okay.” Dorothy gives Agnes a pat on the head, then dances her way back inside.
The door closes behind them and my mother lets out an exasperated sigh.
I press my lips together to stop from smiling, then remember what Bernard said earlier. Looking my mother square in the eyes, I cross my arms. “What’s this about a criminal?”
CHAPTER 26
Fallon
