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Sebastien bounces with excitement, scrolling on his phone. “It’s already trending on several cool sites. The quotes are getting picked up.”
“And I got a call from a producer who would like to include you in a documentary about iconic chefs in New York. He’s coming to have dinner sometime this week.” Phillip keeps grinning.
“Dad, say something. Mom did a great job. I mean, your reviews have always been amazing, but this shit is a real endorsement.” He continues calling me Dad. And boasts with pride.
For me and for his mother. It makes me feel oddly conflicted. This is a moment we should enjoy as a family. But we don’t because she took that away from us.
“Let me go and read it in peace.” I grab the papers. “And get me that coffee before the deliveries pour in. Lena, give me five and let’s confirm today’s special.” I hurry away, feeling like a bit of an asshole. Okay, a full-blown asshole, but Phillip and Lena are used to it.
I don’t want Sebastien to see the contempt I harbor for his mother, so I’d rather show him this dickhead side of me.
I take a seat behind my desk and read the article. She did that. She did that for me.
I pull my phone and shoot her a message:I read the Sunday Times. Thank you. Seb is very proud.
The response comes back immediately:The least I could do.
A knock on the door saves me from spiraling into a place I’m not ready to access.
“Here is your coffee, boss.” Lena places a small cup on my desk. “What fish did you get today?”
“Sea bass.” I lean back in my chair, the newspaper haunting me.
“Mediterranean spicy pan-seared? With couscous?” Lena sits down on a chair across from me.
I nod. “Do we have enough eggplant for that?”
She makes a note. “Yes. It’s too hot for a soup, but I got fennel, so we can have a nice light salad.”
“Almonds, oranges and goat cheese?”
She scribbles down everything and stands up. “On it, boss.”
I stare at the headline and fight the need to run and talk to Gina. Lena clears her throat. I didn’t even realize she was still standing here.
“Remember how I mentioned my late husband and you asked if I loved him? I never did, but I married him and stayed with him for what I believed was an excellent reason. My daughter. I stayed with him because I wanted her to have a better life than what I could provide for her by myself. So I suffered and plowed through. What I did is the definition of being a gold digger.”
“No, you wanted a good life for your child. Gold diggers are selfish,” I say, already sensing where the story is going.
“I’m telling you the story because if Phillip only saw the surface value without giving me a chance to explain my faulty rationale, we wouldn’t be together today. He would have assumed I’m a selfish gold digger because all the evidence pointed there.
“You loved that woman once. Follow your heart and give her a chance to explain, to uncover that invisible layer of her truth. One that might have been misguided but was probably the best she could have done at the time.”
Lena’s words hit my stomach, swimming there undigested. In all the sulking, blaming and regretting, I’ve never asked Blue why.
“What’s the point? I still can’t forgive her. I can’t get back the lost time.” The words are harsh in my throat, coming out around the lump that’s been lodged there for weeks now.
“At least try to understand her point of view. You owe it to yourself and to your son.”
I close my eyes and Lena sneaks out, but another knock prevents me from contemplating her words.
“Dad, I’m mad at her as well. I was, I mean. She made a mistake. A big one, but she wanted to protect you. And me.”
I frown. Fuck, how have I never realized Seb might need to talk about this. I’m a selfish bastard.
“Sit down.” I fold the paper and put it away. “Things are complicated between me and your mother.”
“Really?” he deadpans. “Don’t give me a speech about how it’s not my fault and blah, blah, blah. I know it’s not. Mom told me you didn’t want children back then, or that’s what she believed. Did you?”
