CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
Cade placed his glass on the table. “I can ask the chef to do a four-course tasting. Would you like that?”
I nodded. “But do you have that kind of pull with the staff?”
“Sort of.” He grinned. “I guess it’s pretty clear that I’m trying to impress you.”
“Well, you already do,” I replied. “You already impress me.”
He seemed pleased to hear that, and when the server returned, they worked out a meal with wine pairings I was certain would never appear on the menu but ended up divine. Cheese soufflé. Watermelon salad with burrata. Clam chowder. Lobster gnocchi. Pot de crème.
By the time the staff placed the coffee in front of us, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to eat for days, and the crowd in the main dining room had dwindled to about a fourth of the original size when we arrived.
“Best food you’ve ever had outside of France?” Cade asked.
“Never been there.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Really?”
“Dad planned on taking me there when I turned twenty-one, but...” I spread my hand. I didn’t need to say more. It was obvious. He never did, and we never would. “I’ll make it there someday.”
“Make sure you get outside of Paris. Then you’ll see the real France.”
“Other people have told me that too.”
“I like Nice.” He sipped his coffee. “Couple of great towns in the hills around that city. Incredible views.”
“A couple of the girls on FanZone talk about going there. One posted she went to Cannes last spring.”
He scoffed. “I’m sure you know what she was doing there.”
“Being a yacht girl was my guess.” I raised my eyebrow and gave him my best-knowing look. “I’m no dummy, Cade. I know how the world works.”
“I’m aware you made a lot of money on the platform, but that’s over now. Have you considered what you’ll do next?”
It has definitely been on my mind during the week he’s been away. For now, I had money in the bank, but I still needed to find another job.
I drank the rest of my coffee and pushed away the saucer. “You know, I have no idea what I’m going to do for a living.”
Cade studied me. “If you didn’t have to worry about money, if you didn’t have to think about bills, what would you do for a living?”
I let his question settle, its weight pressing against the quiet corners of my mind. My pulse quickened, not from nerves but from the sudden clarity of a dream I’d tucked away, one I rarely let myself name. It felt like exposing a raw nerve, but I answered anyway. “Fashion design.”
His eyebrows shot up, twin arcs of surprise that made my stomach twist with self-consciousness. “Fashion design?”
I tilted my head, defiance flickering in my chest. “Does that surprise you?”
My voice held steady, but inside, I braced for judgment, and for the dismissal I’d heard too many times before whenever I mentioned this idea.
As a kid, my father had been the worst, seeing fashion design as frivolous, shallow, not serious enough for someone like me.
For some people, that would have crushed them.
But now that every memory of him held the patina of grief, I only found it endearing. He only wanted the best for me.
Am I on my way to that?
Cade’s gaze drifted over me, slow and deliberate, like he was seeing me anew. My skin warmed under his scrutiny, a flush creeping up my neck. “No, it doesn’t,” he said finally, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “It fits.”
The words landed like a spark, igniting quiet confidence I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. For the first time, I let myself believe it might fit.
“When I was a kid, I taught myself how to sew. I used to make dresses for my American Girl dolls,” I said, growing bolder.
“Do you still have them?”
“They’re in a storage unit out by the mall.
” My thoughts turned to all the time I put into cutting the patterns, hemming the dresses, and more.
First one dress just to try it, then a whole wardrobe for Samantha Parkington, the doll the historical line said grew up in the Gilded Age.
Of the three I owned; she was by far my favorite.
“Once I got to high school, I wanted to study at FIT, but Dad didn’t let me.
He said it wasn’t a growth industry. Studying business at Florida State was his choice. ”
“That’s a good thing to get a degree in.”
“Believe me, I learned more about marketing and business in the last couple of months than I did in college.”
Something shifted in his expression, and sadness pulled at the corners of his eyes. “I suppose that’s... one good thing to come out of it.”
The server arrived with the check inside a velvet billfold, and Cade paid, slipping a heavy metal credit card into the flap without even looking at the final number.
The server quickly returned, and once Cade signed the final bill, he motioned to the front door.
“It’s a nice night. Want to go for a walk? ”
I did and welcomed the fresh, warm ocean breeze once it hit my face.
Worth Avenue was always beautiful, but especially at Christmastime, when businesses hung strands of white lights, wrapping them around the stately columns and weaving them through the strands of bougainvillea.
We passed shoppers who were still out, making the most of the extended hours and expanded services.
A few people knew Cade, and he greeted them as he led me east toward the ocean and the large clock tower at the end of the street.
When we arrived, we sat on one of the painted benches, the stars twinkling in the sky above us and the smell of trucked-in evergreen branches mixing with the salt in the air.
Cade’s gaze drifted out over the Atlantic, the horizon swallowing his focus as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. “I know what it feels like to be directed by your parents,” he said, his voice low, carrying a weight that made my chest tighten with recognition.
I relaxed against the cool concrete. “I’m sure you do.”
He exhaled, a sharp breath that seemed to loosen something inside him.
“It doesn’t matter what generation you are or what decade it is.
Families will always have expectations.” His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the bench backrest before he turned to me, his eyes catching mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
“I’ve got this... thing I want to do. Haven’t told anyone else.
” He paused, glancing back at the ocean as if it might steady him. “I want to run for Congress.”
The confession hung between us, fragile and heavy, like a secret he’d carried for too long. My heart stuttered, not from surprise but from the trust in his voice, the way he let me see a piece of himself he’d kept hidden.
“Congress?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, mirroring his vulnerability.
He nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before it hardened into resolve. “Yeah. Not the usual route for a guy from my family, but it’s what I want.”
The air felt charged, his words pulling me closer to the edge of his world. I wanted to reach out, to tell him it wasn’t crazy at all, but instead, I held his gaze, letting him know I saw him.
Really saw him. “You’d be an incredible politician, Cade. You’re intelligent, thoughtful, a born leader, and honest. I’d vote for you,” I said honestly. He looked at me with surprise at first, and then he seemed resolved, somehow.
“Funny how easy it is to get stuck,” he finally said.
“Stuck?”
“Dad was right, and I’m good at real estate development, even better at it than he is. Since I took over, we’ve done almost seventy-five percent more in business.”
I gaped at him. Considering what I knew about the Weston family, this wasn’t a small number. “That much?”
“Yep. And it’s hard to walk away from that kind of success. Running a campaign might... might be too risky.”
“Isn’t that what life is all about?”
“You’re right. We only get one chance on this rock.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you for joining me for dinner.”
“I should be thanking you.”
“The meal was great,” Cade said, his voice a low hum that seemed to ripple through the air between us. He paused, his gaze pinning me in place, dark and searching, as if he could see straight through to the parts of me I kept hidden. “But the best part of it was you.”
His words landed like a match struck in the dark, smooth and deliberate, their warmth spreading through my chest, igniting something reckless and alive.
My breath hitched, a tremor of want pulsing beneath my skin, making my fingers curl against the bench.
It was flirtatious, yes, but there was a raw honesty in his voice that unraveled me, made me feel exposed and desired all at once.
I leaned in before I could think, my lips crashing into his, driven by a hunger I hadn’t known I was carrying until this moment.
This time, Cade’s kiss was a storm. It was fierce and unyielding, his lips claiming mine with confidence that stole the air from my lungs.
It was nothing like the hesitant spark we’d shared in the office, constrained by the pretense of professionalism.
Now, there was only heat, his hands sliding to my hips, fingers digging in just enough to make my pulse race faster.
My body arched toward him, craving the press of his chest, the roughness of his jaw, the everything of him.
Desire coiled tight in my core, a wild, aching need that threatened to consume me whole.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed against his mouth, my voice ragged, almost desperate, as if letting go would shatter something I wasn’t ready to lose. “Don’t ever stop.”
His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, his breath hot and teasing against my skin. “We can’t stay on this bench all night,” he whispered, his voice thick with the same longing that burned in me, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “But my place isn’t far from here.”
My heart slammed against my ribs, the world narrowing to the heat of his touch, the taste of him still lingering on my lips—salt and want and something intoxicatingly him. The thought of pulling away felt like tearing myself in two.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Now.”