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“That would be great. Thanks,” Gavin said, his heart squeezing at the sight of the tears in Bree’s eyes. If he was begging to be numb, it made sense that Bree would be feeling the same way. He looked at her red-rimmed eyes and sullen face, and his words came tumbling out without a second thought.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you stick around here tonight? Dinner rush is earlier on Sundays, and I can probably sneak out as soon as it starts to slow down. Plus, I bet if you play your cards right with Bellamy, she’ll let you taste some of the dessert specials for tonight. Someone in the lunch crowd actually threatened to lick her plate clean after eating a slice of her mocha cheesecake. So, what do you say?”
Okay, so it was a pretty transparent attempt to comfort her, which he knew from experience would probably make her feel like a baby, but he was grasping at straws. Keeping her close and feeding her were the only two ways he really knew how to make her feel better, and selfishly, he knew it would make him feel better to have her close by. Gavin steeled himself for her response, fully expecting her to push him away.
But she shocked the hell out of him by giving up a tiny nod. “Yeah. I’d really like that.” His surprise threatened to overwhelm him completely when she took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his shoulder.
There had been a time, God, barely months ago, when putting his emotions on display like this would’ve made him shrink back and hide. But, if anything, Gavin knew now more than ever that if he wanted to be a good parent, he had to take a risk every now and then.
So, he said, “Okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You stay right here with me, for as long as you want.”
And he held her, just like that while she cried.
28
Sloane got exactly twelve miles down the highway before her cell phone rang, simultaneously scaring the shit out of her and sending her hope skyrocketing through the roof of the Fiat. Both emotions twisted together into a tight pretzel of dread as the caller ID popped up on the hands-free touch screen in front of her.
Belinda Jacobs, Morton House Publishers
In the flurry of wild emotions that had encompassed her morning, Sloane had completely blanked on the e-mail she’d sent Belinda about her book. Oh, God, herbook. The one that had flowed right out of her, despite where she was. The one that was the exact opposite of what Belinda had asked for, and could ruin her future at Morton House in a single pitch.
The one she didn’t have to write, because there was nothing keeping her from getting on that plane and writing the Greece book, just like she’d said she would.
Her career was on the line, and it was the only thing she had left.
Just as Sloane was about to open her mouth to tell Belinda to forget the e-mail, her vision caught on the Fiat’s passenger seat. Brightly colored Post-it notes covered the outline she’d hastily shoved in her bag, but the purple square in the center of the page froze the breath to her lungs.
Heroine risks all for love.
Oh, God. Her careerwasn’tthe only thing she had left. Sloane had her heart, and even if it was broken, it was past time to start trusting that heart to be good enough. Even it meant risking everything. “Hi, Belinda,” Sloane finally said as she guided the Fiat toward the nearest U-turn. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
* * *
Gavin madehis way back to the pass in La Dolce Vita’s kitchen, narrowly dodging a harried-looking server with a full tray on her shoulder.
“Please tell me that’s table seven,” he said, hoping like hell to get an affirmative. Although they were keeping a smooth schedule, the dining room was absolutely packed for a Sunday, and the good timing they were currently enjoying could turn on a dime without warning. The server hollered atable seven, outover her free shoulder, slipping confidently through the swinging doors toward the dining room. Gavin grabbed a pair of plates from the expanse of stainless steel counter in front of him, taking the briefest of seconds to admire the pan-seared sea scallops and sunflower-yellow polenta in his hands.
“Table thirteen, scallops and polenta out the door,” he clipped, raising his voice over the din of metallic cacophony from the pots and pans being maneuvered through the kitchen.
“Wait!” Carly’s shrill command stopped him in his tracks, and he swung toward her, brows upturned.
“Mushroom sauce on the scallops,” she said, and they both frowned at his miss.
“Fuck. Sorry, chef.” He slid the dish back up to the pass so she could finish plating it. This special had been on the tasting menu barely three hours ago, and Carly always went out of her way to make sure the staff knew what everything was supposed to look like when it went out the door. How had he missed something so obvious?
Kind of easy when all you can think about is what you’re not going home to.
“Is Bree doing okay in the break room?” Carly worked her magic with efficient hands, finishing the scallops with just a few simple touches.
“She’s actually in the dining room with Jeannie and the twins. They came by for dessert. Said Bellamy’s chocolate torte was incredible.” Actually, Jeannie had said it, and the twins had agreed. Bree just pushed hers around on her plate.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on here, or am I going to have to pry?” Carly held out the finished plate of sea scallops, but didn’t let go when Gavin reached for it.
“Nothing’s going on.” He might be coming to terms in the emotions-sharing department with Bree, but letting loose with his boss while his dinner service crashed down around him was not on his to-do list.
Plus, all the talking in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Sloane was gone, and he should’ve known better than to think she’d stay.
One of Carly’s shadowy brows winged skyward. “Nothing,” she repeated, looking as doubtful as she sounded as she let go of the plate.
