Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So what happened with your aunt’s visit?” Emma asked, setting out the food on the table they’d snagged under the shade of a tree. It was a perfect spring day, and a picnic lunch on the beautiful USC campus felt like a treat.
“She decided it’ll be best to have Gabriel visit her in the summer instead,” Michel said, watching her progress. “Did you really make all of this? These dishes look like something out of a cookbook.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “You do remember that I’m a culinary instructor, right?”
“Even so.” His boyish grin made her heart trip. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s nothing.” Emma blushed at the compliment and joked, “Just a meal fit for royalty.”
Michel made a choking noise beside her and started coughing.
“You okay?” She patted his back. “Do you need something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Thank you.”
Emma clicked her tongue and poured him some warm cassia-seed tea from the thermos. He took it with a grateful nod. While he caught his breath, she studied the spread in front of them with a critical eye. It wasn’t really a meal fit for royalty—she would need three tables and over thirty dishes for a true surasang—but it was healthful and pleasing to the eyes. She gave a nod of approval.
“Here.” She handed Michel a small, deep bowl when he set aside his tea. “Start with this.”
“What is it?” He brought the bowl to his nose. “It’s fragrant.”
“It’s pine nut porridge,” she said, taking a bite of her jatjuk. “It’s rich and creamy but also soothing. It’s a nice way to ease into a meal.”
“It’s delicious.” His eyes slid closed for a moment. “I could eat a big bowl of this alone.”
“You have to save room for the rest of the food.” She cleared the empty porridge bowls to the side.
“That’s true, since you’ve brought enough food for five people.” He peered at the noodle dish and said, “I think I recognize this one. It’s japchae, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She beamed at him. The vermicelli with beef and colorful julienned vegetables was a well-known Korean dish, but she was still delighted that he knew what it was called. “You can find it at most Korean restaurants, but I made some for you because it’s one of my favorites.”
“May I?” He waited with his chopsticks poised over the noodles.
“Of course.” She watched him take a bite, holding her breath.
“I’ve been missing out if this is what japchae is really supposed to taste like.” He took another bite and chewed slowly. “It’s savory with just the right hint of sweet. And the texture—the soft, chewy noodles with the crisp vegetables—is so satisfying. I could eat this every day.”
“Me, too, but it’s usually only eaten on special occasions because of all the work that goes into it.” She placed a hwayangjeok on his plate. It kind of looked like a two-by-three-inch flag with multicolored stripes and a skewer at the end holding it all together. “Now try this.”
“This I’ve never seen before.” He turned the meat-and-vegetable skewer this way and that.
“It’s a perfect bite built onto a skewer.” She pointed out each of the six ingredients that made up the stripes in the miniature flag. “That’s egg yolk, egg white, marinated beef, cucumber, shiitake mushroom, and carrot. Everything is cooked and seasoned separately but made to complement one another’s flavors.”
“That’s like a symphony in my mouth,” Michel said after he swallowed. “I don’t know if I want to inhale all the food or savor every bite.”
“I vote for savoring, but let me point out the rest of the dishes in case you can’t control yourself. I’ll be quick.” Emma laughed. “This is fish jeon, which is bite-size fish fillet battered with flour and egg wash, then pan-fried to a golden brown. Use the soy sauce dip with it. And that’s blanched soybean sprouts with toasted sesame oil and green onions, a staple in Korean meals. Oh, and you should have some of this shredded white radish with vinegar and mustard sauce to refresh your palate between the heavier dishes.”
She looked expectantly at him, with every intention of watching him eat, but he didn’t pick up his chopsticks. Instead, he held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Thank you for all of this. It means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.” Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “Does… does anyone cook for you at home… in Rouleme?”
“We have a chef, but…” He shrugged with an elegant lift of his shoulders, but the gesture felt forlorn.
“But this is different,” she finished for him.
“When my mother was alive, she used to make crepes with butter and sugar on some nights. We would eat them in the kitchen, and she’d let me stay up way past my bedtime, talking about our day,” he said with a faraway smile. “She led a busy life, so it didn’t happen often, but I remember those moments so clearly.”
“When did she pass away?” Emma linked her fingers through his, resting their hands on his thigh.
“I was nine.” His fingers tightened around hers, and she heard all his unspoken words. He might be rich and successful, but no one—other than someone paid to do so—had cooked for him since he was nine years old.
“Eat.” She smiled past the tears blurring her vision. “The food’s getting cold.”
He held her eyes a moment longer, then he plated some japchae for her. “You should eat, too, before I finish all this by myself.”
Suddenly, this beautiful man by her side didn’t feel like someone from a different world. It didn’t feel as though they had nothing in common. The connection between them shone brightly in her heart, strong and tautly tethered.
Somewhere along the line, she’d forgotten about proving their incompatibility… too happy to be with him to notice any jarring differences. And she acknowledged for the first time that it would cost her something to lose him. But how much would it cost her? Was this time with him worth the cost?
Sitting side by side beneath a tree heavy with springtime leaves, they enjoyed their picnic lunch with quiet happiness. She couldn’t imagine trading this time with him for anything in the world. And there’s my answer . So practical and smart Emma made the impractical and not-so-smart decision to be with Michel for the remainder of the two months even if it meant it would cost her more to lose him—even if it meant her heart would get broken. He was worth the risk.
As for her godmother’s reputation, how much difference could a few weeks make? She hadn’t said anything yet about losing clients over the Crones’ smear campaign. And even if they ended up losing clients here and there, how much would it affect Emma’s goal of leasing a commercial kitchen in the long run?
Her profession was important to her, but she didn’t want it to be her everything like for her mom. This time with Michel meant something to Emma. He meant something to her. He was worth a bit of delay in opening up her culinary school.
Besides, a few weeks was a very short time in the grand scheme of things. She would enjoy every moment of their time together even though she knew exactly when and how things would end between them. She pressed the heel of her hand into her aching chest. This was enough. It had to be enough.
When they finished eating, she picked up a second thermos filled with ice-cold sujeonggwa—a sweet drink flavored with fresh ginger and cinnamon sticks. “This is dessert.”
“It’s delicious,” Michel said after taking a sip of the translucent burgundy drink. “Everything was delicious.”
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks growing warm.
He linked his fingers through hers and dropped a kiss on each of her knuckles. “Will I see you tonight?”
The warm intimacy of his words left little doubt as to what he meant. He wanted to know if she wanted to finish what they’d started last night. God, did she ever. She’d hardly slept the night before because she couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his lips and hands on her.
“I can’t tonight,” she said with heartfelt regret. “My godmother invited me and my father over for dinner.”
“It probably won’t kill me to wait to see you until tomorrow. Probably.” He groaned, pressing his forehead against the back of her hand. After a moment, he lifted his head with a rueful laugh. “If you don’t hear from me first thing tomorrow morning, know that I have perished from the wait.”
Her huff of laughter turned into a gasp as he brushed his lips against hers. She curled her hand around the nape of his neck in case he got the foolish idea of pulling away from her. He wisely deepened the kiss, cupping her jaw with one hand and tugging her closer with the other. She slid her tongue into the warmth of his mouth, and he suckled gently on it before swirling his own around it.
“You taste like cinnamon. So sweet.” His teeth scraped on her bottom lip. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
How was she expected to keep her clothes on when he whispered things like that to her? She whimpered and pressed herself closer to him. She wanted to climb onto his lap and grind her hips against him to relieve the pressure building in her core. Without thinking, she tugged his shirt out of his slacks and slid her hands up his sculpted torso. He definitely had muscles that would ripple as he rode a horse bare-chested across a deserted beach.
Emma broke the kiss and snatched her hands out of his shirt before things went too far. Michel stared at her with dazed eyes, his lips wet and swollen from their kiss. He leaned in as though to resume their kiss, and she pressed her hands against his chest. On top of his shirt.
“Michel,” she said, ridiculously out of breath. “People might see us. Your students might see us.”
“I don’t…” He blinked rapidly with a sharp shake of his head. “Hell.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” She fluttered her fingers toward his disheveled shirt. “You should fix your clothes.”
Michel quickly tucked his shirt in and adjusted his slacks against his straining… She jerked her eyes away and stared at the leaves above them until she was certain she wasn’t going to jump him.
“Emma.”
“Yes?” She met his eyes.
“Never apologize for touching me.” A corner of his lips quirked up. “And thank you for reminding me about where we were. I seem to lose my mind every time I kiss you.”
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. “You’re welcome.”
“And thank you again for this beautiful picnic.” He brushed a soft kiss against her cheek. “It was the best meal I’ve ever had.”
“I guess I overshot it a bit,” she teased, crinkling her nose. “I wanted to show off a little, not make it impossible to top myself.”
“So we’ll do this… again?” he asked shyly.
“Yes, Michel.” She cupped his face in her hands, her chest clenching into an achy knot. “We don’t have a lot of time left, but I intend to feed you well and often while I can.”
An expression she couldn’t read flickered in his eyes. “Emma—”
“You guys had a picnic without me?” Gabriel Laurent plopped down on the bench across from them, earning a dark glower from Michel. “Well, that’s not very nice.”
“Oh my gosh. I didn’t even think…” Emma flushed deeply. “I’m so sorry.”
“Good Lord, Emma. Don’t feel bad. I was only joking.” Gabriel reached for a fish jeon, and she slapped his hand away without thinking. He glanced up, startled.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she said even as she surreptitiously dragged the plate of food away from him. “But I saved that plate for Sophie since she wouldn’t eat with us.”
“Wow, was I really the only one not invited to this picnic?” Before she could answer, Gabriel snatched the plate from her and got to his feet. He winked and said, “Since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll take this plate over to Sophie for you. Who knows? Maybe she’ll take pity on me and share. Enjoy the rest of your picnic, cousin.”
Michel heaved an exasperated sigh in response and waved his cousin off. Without delay, Gabriel made a beeline for Sophie, which impressed Emma. She hadn’t been able to spot her even though she knew the royal guard was close by. The fact that being with Michel made everything else fade into the background might have had something to do with it as well.
Grinning like a mischievous boy, Gabriel tugged Sophie toward a bench within view of their picnic table. Emma craned her neck to see them better. Their heads bent close together as Gabriel whispered something in Sophie’s ear.
“You really don’t know what’s going on between them?” she asked Michel, annoyed that she couldn’t hear what they were talking about.
“All I know is that it’s complicated,” he supplied unhelpfully.
“Sophie told me as much last night.” They caught her watching them, so she smiled and waved.
Her friend pointed at the plate and gave Emma a big thumbs-up. Gabriel grabbed a fish jeon off her plate while she was distracted and popped it in his mouth. Sophie caught him stealing and punched him in the arm, but he just smiled happily at her.
“She told you that?” Michel’s eyes widened.
“Uh-huh.” Emma gave him a distracted nod and continued spying on the striking couple. “But not much else.”
“Well, that’s more than what she told me,” he said glumly.
“You focus on your cousin.” She patted his thigh with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll talk to Sophie.”
“Do you think it might be better if we minded our own business?” He sipped the last of his sujeonggwa.
“Where’s the fun in that?” She took the cup from him, tucking it into the picnic basket along with the other empty containers. “And who knows? Maybe we can help them, since it’s complicated and all.”
“Are you suggesting we play matchmakers?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Nah.” She bumped her shoulder to his. “You just get me intel from Gabriel. I’ll be the matchmaker.”