That One Summer: A Collection of Steamy Contemporary Romance

Chapter 8

The next morning, Isaunter out of my room, purse over the shoulder, back in suitable work attire, and forty minutes late for my breakfast meeting with Sally. After a shared steamy shower, which involved getting my knees bruised on the tiled floor blowing Graeme, I was more than ready for breakfast.

”Work it, baby, work it,” Graeme teases from where he leans against the door jamb, as I sway my hips for him. Afterfeastingon my body the whole night, Graeme declared himself capable of more than a double espresso, which ishow he normally starts his day. He”ll join me for breakfast after getting dressed in his own room so that we don”t arrive at the same time and appear suspicious, Miss Brooke.

I glance back and blow him a kiss, which makes him smile.

Ambling into the restaurant, I scan the place for my PA. I only find Florian, where he sits at a bigger table, an à la carte menu discarded to the side. I walk up to him as a waitress serves him a cappuccino.

”Tessa!” He stands to give me a peck on each cheek. ”Did you have a good night”s rest?”

Anybody who can read a face will know I”ve spent the night rough riding a lover, and as Florian searches my face, a little smile plays on his lips. ”I see it was excellent. Join me?”

The waitress hovers.

”I”ll have a latte, please.” I ease into the chair across from Florian, and he hands me the menu.

”I”ve never been a fan of a buffet. They do have excellent eggs benedict here.” He takes a sip of his cappuccino, his gaze not leaving mine.

I glance at the menu, indecisive as a whisper of knowledge, the slightest intuition, knocks at a door somewhere inside me. With Graeme admitting not being involved with my recruitment, did I get this gig based on my reputation, or Anderson”s or Florian”s admiration for my work and experience? ”I”ll just do a round at the buffet.” I shift in my chair. ”How did you end up working with Graeme? He told me you”re entering a partnership?”

Florian lowers his coffee cup and for a moment soothes his hands around it, as if he”s cold. ”I met Graeme on a project in New York years ago.”

This isn”t news; my Florian Paul obsession has its roots in history.

”I alwayswanted to work with someone who shares a passion for the natural environment. The time and the place were right. And then there was the client who wanted us to team up on a project.”

The opportunity that took Graeme to San Francisco in the first place. I nod. It was Graeme”s big break and our rupture.

”But then...” Florian sighs and his hands pause as he looks up at me. ”There was my wife.”

I still, from his voice sensing something went wrong.

”We were three weeks into the project when she was diagnosed with colon cancer. I—” He pauses, empties his coffee cup, and blows out a deep breath. ”I didn”t know what to do. Graeme took over the project and all my other projects and just ran with them. He was a godsend, to be honest. I dropped so many balls those first few months, but he picked them all up and kept juggling. He gave me all the time I needed; all the time Claire needed. I cared for her until the very last, and during the time...it was as if Graeme was trying to save what he could, of us, for us?”

The love in Florian”s voice runs deep. I clog up and bite my tongue to keep face. All that Graeme energy, all the love and endearment he couldn”t give me, he funneled into the business so that Florian could be with his wife in her last days.

”When did she pass away?”

Florian”s eyes rim red, but he shows no tears. ”Three months ago. This is the first project I am taking on since Claire passed away. I”m back full time now.”

We stare at each other as the waitress delivers his eggs benedict and my latte. I”m tempted to run away from his pain, displayed from a heart that aches heavy with loss and love that has nowhere to go.

”I”m sorry for your loss,” I murmur, my own heart contracting with having wasted so much time and not being in the moment with my husband.

He nods and picks up his fork and knife, giving us time to compose ourselves after his revelation by staring at his food as if in prayer.

In my head, the project and its demands surface, but I”m not ready to deal with them yet. Still, I need to know who I”ll disappoint if I can”t deliver. ”Graeme told me he wasn”t involved in this project until a few days ago.” I fiddle with my cutlery, the straightforward question I have too blunt to ask, but I ask anyway. ”Whose idea was it to sign me up for this project? Yours or Anderson”s? You and I are both aware that I don”t have comparable experience for this project and with so many designers to choose from on the West Coast—”

”Ha! Caught in the act!” Florian chuckles. ”Graeme told us you”re clever. Creative and a bit crazy.” He hitches his shoulders with a soft hmm. ”He didn”t tell us how pretty you are in person.”

What a charmer. Us? Florian and Claire?Compliments aside, he didn”t answer my question.

”He also told us you”re the only woman he”ll ever love, whatever might have torn you apart. This business of mine he poured himself in...it was as if he was mourning the loss of something he didn”t foresee losing. Frantically keeping busy so he didn”t have to think about it.” Florian takes a small bite, indicates his approval with a nod as he chews and swallows. ”No, Anderson listens to my suggestions. Graeme didn”t ask me to sign you for this project. Claire did.” He smirks, the fondness of a memory softening his face. ”She was a bit of a matchmaker, my Claire.”

The guardian angel who looked out for us. A person whom I”ve never met found a way to save my marriage. Matchmaker indeed. Bless her soul.

”During Claire”s illness, Graeme often came over to our place to discuss work and always visited Claire. There came a time when I think he came to see her and not me. They”d talk a lot. Sometimes she”d just listen. He”d show her your Instagram feed, his pride in what you”ve achieved was evident. You sold yourself long before anything else did. I have complete faith in you.”

”Thank you,” I whisper, emotions straining my chest. This is what Graeme has been up to. This is why he was so quiet and stepped away from social media. He had more important things to deal with.

For the rest,” Florian says as he waves his hand at the setting, encompassing the whole of Le Paradis, ”I know how to pull a few strings.”

Thank you.The pressure is too much. I can’t mess up this job. What if I disappoint not only Florian Paul, but Graeme as well? What if I lose my husband like Florian lost Claire?

I get up and rush to the buffet where I can hide the effect of Florian”s disclosure on my being. The pile of emotions since seeing Graeme standing in the lobby, the trip to the island, our playdate, the night in his arms. Leaving Graeme again later that morning... It”s all too much and the notion that I can still lose him again rips me to shreds.

What if he never asks me to move to San Francisco, which he hasn”t done yet, but which I”ll do tomorrow if he asked me to?

I still stare at the buffet, plate in hand, clutching it for dear life, when Graeme walks up to me. He reaches for a plate of his own and stalls. His hand is on my shoulder. ”Are you alright?”

I bite my bottom lip as my eyes flood with more tears which spill one by one. We all had a role to play, and Graeme always picked his with dearness and the right intent. It’s possible that I love this man more than I did two days ago. ”Yes. I can”t be better, to be honest.”

”You look a bit sleep deprived, Miss Brooke.” He reaches for my cheek and thumbs a tear away, so gently, all I can do is lean into him.

”I am. Totally.” My feet drag as my soul soars.

His hand eases down my arm to my waist and he pulls me close for a hug. ”Have some breakfast and you”ll feel better.”

I cling to him for a moment, and he breathes into my hair, before pressing a kiss to the delicate skin on my temple. ”Do you still want your divorce papers back?” I whisper, tormented at the thought that he might say yes.

”Of course I do,” he whispers and straightens to look me in the eyes. ”But only so I can tear them up.”