Escape To Paradise: A Perfect Escapist Sweet and Spicy Summer Beach Read For 2024

Chapter 1

The World Falls Apart

I had left my planner at La Gourmandize. Without it, I couldn’t do anything; my travel plans and itinerary were all there. The walk from the house to the restaurant was just ten minutes. My plane would leave in five hours, so I had plenty of time. Benoit was still at the restaurant, doing some accounting. I texted him I would come to get it but never got a reply; I went anyway.

Our French bistro was one of the most popular restaurants in Downtown Savannah. It had been gaining recognition as one of the must-go-to places when visiting Georgia. It took us nearly eight years to establish this reputation, and we built it completely from scratch.

Benoit came from a family of restaurateurs. This was his third restaurant, and the first two he co-managed with his family. But La Gourmandize was our baby. It was a project born out of our love and passion for cooking and food.

I was fresh out of culinary school, working as a sous-chef for a small restaurant in Chicago, when I met Benoit. He had asked to speak to the chef and the sous-chef about the glorious pasta meal he just had. He was generous in his compliments and in tipping the staff. Benoit had a very casual way in which he carried himself, and I was instantly smitten.

Benoit had a slim build, was approximately my height, and had dark curls. He had a dark stubble but charming smile. The lighting in the restaurant made his emerald eyes sparkle. He had an air of sophistication about him with his expensive shirt and pants, and polished shoes. Our eyes met, and there was an instant attraction. He had asked for my number, and before he left for his hometown in Savannah, we had already hooked up.

The attraction was magnetic. We shared the same passion for food, travel, and sex. Benoit had a voracious appetite, not just at the dining table but in the bedroom as well. It was inevitable that I would leave Chicago and move in with him to Savannah in less than a year.

Thus was born La Gourmandize, a French bistro with superb food and cocktails in the ritzy and historic part of Downtown Savannah. I helped choose every piece of furniture, every linen, every cutlery, and dishes in that restaurant. It was a labor of love. I poured everything into it. I even helped design it. All the tiles that went into it and the wallpaper—I helped choose them.

La Gourmandize had a large window, so the tourists who walked along the sidewalk could see how beautiful the interiors were. And that seemed to work. We would always get walk-ins. That’s why I also added a café section, allowing people waiting in line to enjoy coffee, French macaroons, or croissants before being seated. Around three to five in the afternoon, we would close the restaurant and café to prepare for dinner; it allowed us to get a breather from the fast pace of the restaurant.

Through the window, I could see two figures in the bar area as I approached. It was Benoit and our bartender, Mariana. Something about their body language made me pause as I was about to cross the street to the restaurant. Benoit leaned over to Mariana and touched her arm. It wasn’t just a friendly touch, but a touch that I knew all too well as Benoit’s touch of affection. He then fished something out of his pocket—a jewelry box. He opened it, revealing a necklace. Mariana gasped in surprise. Benoit clasped the necklace around her neck and kissed her on the lips.

Time stood still. I just stood there, utterly shocked. My heart sank, and my stomach felt queasy. I felt helpless and didn’t know what to do. The front door opened, breaking my attention, and I saw Manny, one of our servers. He saw me standing there. I saw a look of pity in his eyes before he averted his gaze, saying nothing. He must have known about Mariana and Benoit.

I turned and walked around fast, but my legs felt weak and shaky. I started sobbing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. Hot tears streamed down my face, and everything was a blur. When I got back to my house, the one I shared with Benoit, it suddenly didn’t feel like home. It felt like a cold, dark place. I ran upstairs to the bedroom and flung myself onto the bed. I just cried and cried.

***

I didn’t know how long I cried. It was already dark when my tears stopped flowing. I had already missed my flight, but I didn’t care. I got up and walked down to the living room. I had a favorite corner there, and a favorite refurbished antique French chair, which Benoit had gifted me not so long ago. The chair was close to the floor-to-ceiling window, with an unobstructed view outside. The local pedestrians and tourists milled about on the sidewalk as they walked past our Victorian house. I used to spend hours here holding a cup of warm tea as the tourists would stop by to stare in amazement at our old house. It was a house built during a far-gone era when things were much simpler, and the people lived the same way. The house had been here for multiple generations, symbolizing longevity, and Benoit and I chose the house for that reason. We planned on making this home into our forever home.

A young couple stood outside. They were pointing at our house and chatting. Perhaps they were wondering who lived in this beautiful home. Perhaps a prince and a princess who lived a dream life. The woman leaned her head on the man’s shoulder. They looked so happy together, and I was jealous of them. Here they were, possibly wondering how wonderful it must be to live in such a gorgeous house. And here I was, wondering how it feels to be them. The irony wasn’t lost on me. They lingered for a while before walking off, holding each other’s hands.

I started having doubts. Maybe I didn’t see Maria and Benoit together. What if it was just my overactive imagination? But then, I remembered Manny’s expression on his face. There was no denying what happened. Then I started rationalizing that perhaps Benoit would come to his senses and choose me. But how could that be when he gave Maria a necklace? He had obviously chosen her.

My doubt and confusion turned to anger. I gave Benoit everything he asked of me. I moved from Chicago to Savannah to be with him. I uprooted my entire life, and this is how he repays me? This act of betrayal was just unforgivable. I kept going back and forth between doubt and anger.

Then, I started to panic. I couldn’t possibly leave everything I worked hard for behind. It wasn’t just our relationship that was at stake, even our partnership. We owned this house and the restaurant together. I’ve known Benoit since I was twenty-two, and he was thirty. Did I waste eight years of my life with him?

I’ve had boyfriends before, but they were too young and unambitious. Benoit was intelligent, sophisticated, and knew the world. He was exactly what I wanted in a guy. Do I just throw it all away for just one act of indiscretion? But this betrayal was something I couldn’t cope with. I closed my eyes and listened to my breathing. My heart already knew the answer, even if my head didn’t know it yet.

It was around nine in the evening when Benoit came home. Only the light from the streetlamps partially illuminated the house, but I could hear Benoit go inside and turn on the light in the hallway. When he stepped into the living room, he was startled to see me.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you miss your flight?”

I could see in his eyes he did not know that I had found out about him and Mariana. I could see why he found someone like Mariana attractive. She had voluptuous curves, dark lashes, and plump lips, whereas I was the opposite. I was slender, had a tiny chest, and looked plain with my plain brown, straight hair, and thin lips. I didn’t dress provocatively, unlike Mariana, who wore tight-fitting clothes.

It was a double betrayal because I treated Mariana like family. She’d been working with us for two years. I hired her because she was a very competent and creative bartender. Our customers loved her creations. She had won competitions nationwide. And we hung out outside of work and giggled like sisters. This made my heart sting just thinking about her.

“I sent you a text message. Didn’t you read it?”

Benoit looked at his phone. “Oh, so you left your planner and came back for it? How come I didn’t see you at the restaurant?” He looked so innocent, but he was just a good liar.

“I actually went back to retrieve it.” The tone in my voice was plain. There was no emotion. I was just stating a fact.

“Is that so? I didn’t see you there.” He tried to sound innocent, but he was far from it. He was a snake.

“I was going to go inside the restaurant, but then… I saw you and Mariana together—” My voice started to crack.

Benoit’s face paled, losing all its color.

“How long have you been fucking her?” I asked. I was never the one to be vulgar, but the words just slipped out of my mouth.

He didn’t answer.

“How fucking long, Benoit?” I yelled.

“Just a few months,” he stammered and looked down.

“So, is this just a casual thing, or is it serious?” I asked. If looks could kill, he would have been dead already. My eyes were accusatory.

“I don’t know,” he said in a very low voice.

“You don’t know? Well, it must be serious if you’re giving her jewelry. And in front of our staff?” I got up and approached him. I wanted to slap him, but I held back. He was expecting it, though.

I tried not to cry, but the tears started flowing again. Benoit just stood there, saying nothing.

“You say it was worth it? All that we’ve worked for. Our eight years together. You were just going to throw it all away for a casual fuck? Your dick is bigger than your head! I can’t believe it, Benoit. I loved you. I gave you my all. We built a life together! We’re over!”

I didn’t know I had such pent-up anger. It just welled up from deep inside me. I walked out of our home, slammed the door, and continued walking.