Chapter 45
RHETT
While Clementine disappeared into the kitchen to oversee the dessert service, I found myself scanning the dining room for her father. There was something I needed to do, something that felt important after everything that had happened tonight.
I knew how risky it was to put my drama out there. There were plenty of journalists in the crowd. Some were there to do write-ups about the soup kitchen and others were there to fluff up the politicians and local celebrities looking for some good press.
What I just did was definitely going to make headlines. I basically just claimed his daughter. I knew he was one of the reasons she didn’t want anything to do with me. My reputation tainting Desman’s soup kitchen project. I needed to clear the air.
I found Desman near the front of the room, talking quietly with one of the board members about future fundraising initiatives. When he saw me approaching, he excused himself from the conversation.
“Hell of a speech up there,” he said with a knowing smile. “Though I have to admit, it wasn’t exactly what I expected when I asked you to thank the team.”
“About that,” I said, suddenly feeling like a teenager asking permission to take someone’s daughter to prom. “I was hoping we could talk privately for a moment.”
His expression grew more serious, almost resigned. He gestured toward a quieter corner of the room. “Of course.”
We walked over to a spot near the windows, away from the guests coming in to sit down.
“Desman,” I started, then stopped, realizing I had no idea how to do this properly. “I need you to know that my intentions toward your daughter are completely honorable.”
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement creeping into his expression. “Go on.”
“I love her,” I said, the words feeling both foreign and absolutely right coming out of my mouth. “I want to cherish and love her until the end of my days. And I will spend all those days proving that I’m not the man I was when this tour started. And I’m not my family.”
Desman studied my face for a long moment. “And what kind of man are you now?”
“The kind who recognizes that your daughter is a force to be reckoned with,” I said without hesitation. “The kind who can’t wait to see how far she goes, because I have a feeling she’s going to leave me in her dust.”
That earned me a genuine smile. “She is pretty remarkable, isn’t she?”
“She’s extraordinary,” I said. “She saved my ass tonight, literally and figuratively. But more than that, she’s made me want to be better. Not just as a chef, but as a man.”
“And the media attention? The complications with your family background?”
I appreciated that he was asking the hard questions.
“I can’t promise there won’t be challenges.
My past isn’t something I can erase, and there will probably always be people who want to use it against me.
But I can promise that I’ll never let it hurt her again.
I’ll protect her from all of that as much as I’m able. ”
Desman nodded slowly. “She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices. But for what it’s worth, you have my blessing.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t make me regret it,” he added with a pointed look.
“I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
“And your family? Do I need to be worried about my daughter’s safety?”
I laughed. “I know their reputation, and yeah, some of them get up to no good, but I promise, my family would never hurt her. I know what the rumors are and I’m not at liberty to discuss a lot of the details, but you have my word the rumors are bullshit.
Back in the day, they were true. Not so much anymore.
And I’ve never had anything to do with it.
Yes, I still talk to my family, but they know better than to bring the business around me.
We have family gatherings and I promise they’re safe.
The few that met Clem in Chicago loved her. ”
Desman studied my face for a moment. I could see him weighing my words. I knew how this must look to him, his daughter getting involved with someone whose family name had been in the papers for all the wrong reasons over the last fifty years. Dating a man whose father was in prison.
“I appreciate your honesty,” he said finally. “And I can see that you care about her. That’s what matters to me.”
“I do. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Then welcome to the family, son. Just remember, she’s tougher than both of us put together. Don’t underestimate her.”
I grinned. “I learned that lesson tonight.”
As we walked back toward the main dining area, I caught sight of Clementine emerging from the kitchen with a tray of what looked like individual apple tarts. Even from across the room, I could see the concentration on her face as she handled the dessert service.
“She’s in her element,” Desman said, following my gaze.
“Yeah, she is.” I watched her direct the other volunteers. “I think I might have been holding her back.”
She caught my eye and smiled. My chest tightened just at the sight of her. Damn. She had me all twisted up.
“I should go help her,” I said.
“Go,” Desman agreed. “And Rhett? Thank you. For tonight, for the tour, for everything. This couldn’t have happened without you.”
“Glas I could help.” I made my way back to the kitchen. “How’s it going in here?”
“Grab a tray,” Clem said.
I did as she asked and followed her back out to the dining room.
I noticed a lot of the people enjoying the free meal had clearly dressed in their nicest clothes for this occasion.
An elderly man in a threadbare suit thanked me three times for the food.
A young mother with two kids told Clementine that this was the first time in months her family had eaten somewhere other than their kitchen table and had enough to fill their bellies.
“This is incredible,” a middle-aged woman said as I set down her dessert. “I’ve been homeless for six months, and I can’t remember the last time someone served me something this beautiful.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “I’m glad you could be here tonight.”
“Me too,” she said, tears in her eyes. “It’s nice to feel human again.”
As I continued serving, I found myself having similar conversations with other guests.
A veteran struggling with addiction who said the soup kitchen gave him somewhere to go when his apartment felt too small.
A teenager who aged out of foster care and didn’t know where his next meal was coming from.
A grandmother raising her grandson alone who said community meals like this helped her not feel so isolated.
Each interaction reminded me what this was really about. Not the glamorous restaurant openings or food critic ratings or maintaining a spotless reputation online. It was about love and connection.
I thought about my own restaurant, about the wealthy clients who dropped hundreds of dollars on tasting menus without thinking twice.
There was nothing wrong with that. I was proud of what I had built.
But maybe there was room for both. Maybe I could find ways to use my success to create more opportunities like this.
When the last dessert was served and the evening was winding down, I found Clementine helping to clear tables alongside the volunteer staff. She looked exhausted, but she was still smiling as she chatted with guests who were reluctant to leave.
“Ready to get out of here?” I asked when she finished stacking the last set of plates.
“God, yes,” she said, pulling off her apron. “My feet are killing me.”
“Before we go,” I said, catching her hand. “I want to ask you something.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Go for it.”
“Would you like to go on a proper date with me tomorrow night? Dinner, maybe dancing, the whole traditional thing?”
Her face lit up. “Are you asking me out, Chef Voss?”
“I am, Chef Hartley. What do you say?”
“I say yes,” she said without hesitation.
We said our goodbyes to the remaining guests and staff. I walked her out to where my limo was parked on the street. The cool, damp air actually felt good after the long day in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Clementine said as I held the passenger door open for her.
“You pulled it off,” I corrected. “I just tried not to bleed on everything.”
She laughed. That bright sound had become my favorite music. “We make a good team.”
“Yeah,” I said and slid in beside her. “We really do.”
As much as I wanted to repeat the performance from the last time we were in the limo together, I behaved myself.
She reached over and grabbed my hand. We held hands like teenagers the entire ride to her family home.
When Phil stopped the car, I slid out and walked her to the front door.
“Thank you,” she said. “For tonight, for the apology, for fighting for us when I was too scared to.”
“Thank you for giving me another chance,” I said. “I know I didn’t deserve it.”
“Yes, you did,” she said firmly. “Everyone deserves a second chance when they’re brave enough to ask for it. Well, most people anyway. Do you want to come in? I’m sure my mom would love to properly meet you.”
“I would love that,” I said. “But not tonight.”
She looked confused. “Why not?”
I stepped closer to her, my hand cupping her chin.
“Because I’m going to do this right this time,” I said. “All good things are worth waiting for.”
She gave me the most beautiful, radiant smile I’d ever seen. “Look at you, being all proper and gentlemanly.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I said, leaning down to kiss her. “Because trust me, I’ve got some pretty wicked fantasies running through my head right now.”
I kissed her, keeping myself in check. The kiss was a promise of a new beginning and a vow that we had all the time in the world to figure this out together.
When we broke apart, she was still smiling. “Now, I have wicked thoughts running through my mind too.”
“Good. Hold on to those. Maybe after our date we can compare notes. See who has the most wicked thoughts.”
She laughed. “I think I’m going to lose that one.”
“I know you will.”
I kissed her once more, just because I could, just because she was mine and I was hers and we’d found our way back to each other despite all the obstacles.
“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow?” I said.
“It’s a date,” she said, then laughed at her own words. “Literally.”
I waited until she was safely inside before getting back in the car. I found myself thinking about the future for the first time in weeks without feeling anxious about it. The stupid grin on my face felt strange but good.
Tomorrow night, I would take Clementine somewhere special. This weekend, maybe I would even visit my father like my mother had suggested. Next week, I would start figuring out how to expand my restaurant’s community outreach programs.
But tonight, I was just a man who’d been lucky enough to fall in love with an extraordinary woman, and smart enough to fight for her.
All good things were worth waiting for. But the best things, the ones that really mattered, were worth fighting for too. I was ready to fight like I had never fought before. If she ran, I was going to chase her.