51. Alessandra
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
alessandra
“Miss, did you hear me?”
“Huh?” I drag my gaze from the small oval window.
“ I’m sorry. What did you say?
The blonde flight attendant smiles down at me patiently. “ I asked what you’d like to drink after takeoff?
”
“Oh. Umm …water is fine. Thank you.” My brain is too fuzzy to come up with anything better.
It wouldn’t taste right, anyway.
A bitterness has lingered on my tongue since I left The Nook yesterday.
My belongings were shipped back to New York two days ago, leaving me with a small suitcase, packed in a hurry because I couldn’t stand to stay in that apartment for a second longer.
There were reminders of him at every turn.
The kitchen counter where I’d watch him cook.
The sofa where he’d sit and build his LEGO .
The bed we spent countless hours discovering new ways to pleasure the other.
I’d said goodbye to Martin before we left for The Nook .
We promised to keep in touch and I’ve already penciled in a visit for after my trip to Germany .
I was barely keeping a tight seal on my emotions as it was, then I plowed right into Johanna , Quinn , and Florence on my frenzy out of the apartment.
Just thinking about that interaction makes my heart heavy.
“I thought I saw you sneak past,” Quinn teased, but her face dropped when she took in my bag.
“ You’re leaving already? I thought your flight wasn’t until this evening?”
“Oh, I’m catching an earlier one.” I couldn’t look at them, and stared solemnly at the bakery window, wishing I had time for one last croissant.
Their suspicion was obvious.
Johanna and Quinn kept their observations to themselves.
Florence , not so much.
“I hope you’re better at lying when you’re pitching to a room full of suits.” She folded her arms and cocked a hip.
“ What did he do?”
He being Booth , I presumed.
“Nothing. He’s …at the restaurant,” I said hopefully.
“Nope. Just came from there. Try again,” Florence challenged.
Their faces dropped at my wobbly exhale.
“Oh, Aly ,” Jo whispered.
“ What happened?”
My composure crumbled.
There weren’t any tears, but I spewed everything on the sidewalk outside Just Brew It until my mouth dried up and jaw ached.
To my surprise, they didn’t press me to give him another chance or make excuses for him.
They each hugged me goodbye, making plans to meet up once I was back stateside, and helped me with my bags.
It was watching the three of them wave at me through the window of my rental car that had the first tear falling.
Since then, they haven’t stopped.
I arrived in Sutton Bay tough like marble and left soft as a cotton ball, all thanks to Booth Sadler .
Along with my trust, a piece of my heart remained in a fishing town in Maine .
It was stupid, because he knew my answer, but a small part of me wished he’d asked me to stay.
If only to prove that my feelings weren’t one sided.
Staring out at the dark gray runway as the plane taxis, I muffle my cries into my palm as sudden realization hits me about what those feelings mean.
In my heart of hearts, I love Booth Sadler .
He tore through my walls, witnessed me at my worst, and cherished every single second we had together as if it was his mission in life.
He would have loved me deeply, passionately, and fiercely.
With no limits, of that I’m certain.
But without his trust, would it have been enough?
I refuse to play a game of “what if,” and instead, allow the tears to fall freely until my temples ache, throat stings, and heart splits in two.
New York feels empty.
Over eight million people, block after block of bumper-to-bumper traffic, chaotic sidewalks—and the loneliness has never been so strong.
The only saving grace is my parents.
They rallied around me when I landed at JFK , fussing over me like I was a little girl again.
For once, rather than brush off their attention and put on a brave face, I embraced it.
It felt unnatural at first, but slowly the turmoil inside my head lessened.
It’s shocking I had tears left to shed after the flight.
I cried into my mother’s lap while my concerned father stood by.
Not wanting to go to my apartment, I curled up on their sofa and slept.
That was two days ago, and even through my fretful sleep, Booth infiltrated my dreams. It was cruel.
My brain remembered every tiny detail about him, but my heart was bruised because of him.
I texted him as promised, though I wasn’t sure he would reply.
Aly: Just landed.
Dimples: I know, I tracked your flight.
Say hi to Lydia and Daniel for me.
Aly: I will.
Dimples: I hope you have a good today.
How did I respond to that?
Since then, he hadn’t texted or called, and neither had I .
The hammer hovered above the nail of our coffin.
Waiting to finalize the end.
When the email notification confirming the documents had been safely delivered to the restaurant dropped in my inbox, I wanted to throw up.
Our Place was in a much better position than it was last year, and I was serious when I told the girls they didn’t need me anymore.
A well-established, wholesome, family-run restaurant needed help, and I did that.
It gave me Martin , Harvey , and a man I was so utterly in love with, it physically hurt.
But it wasn’t mine and neither was Booth .
It belonged to the Sadler and Thomas families, not me.
So my final parting gift was to hand over the keys.
It didn’t mean I’d never step foot in Sutton Bay again— Martin was there.
But now I had zero reason to see Booth .
It would have been too painful .
I’m staring vacantly out the window of my parents’ Greystone when my mom floats into the living room.
“Enough,” she declares and claps her hands.
My brow quirks in surprise.
“ Enough of what?”
She swats my feet off the sofa and tuts before squeezing in next to me.
“ Enough wallowing.” Her face softens, and she brushes my hair off my shoulder.
“ I’m proud of you for taking a break from work, but there are better ways to get over this.”
I cringe.
Asking my dad for time off work and to delay the Berlin trip felt like an all-time low.
My dad’s response: “ It’s about time you did something for yourself.”
Even with my parents’ support and time to digest everything, I was crawling out of my skin.
I didn’t mope, it wasn’t in my DNA , yet my body had molded itself to the sofa and I wanted nothing more than to disappear beneath a sea of blankets.
“Mother.” I dismiss her studious gaze.
“ Please let me rot on the sofa?”
She gasps, slapping a hand to her chest. “ Dreadful , Alessandra . We do not rot. We Argiros women, we thrive. You will start at dinner tomorrow.” She’s so confident despite my resounding groan.
“Mama, no. I don’t want to leave the house,” I plead and drag the fur throw up to my chin.
“Dinner is here, so no excuses.” Her expression shifts, smiling down at me with such warmth it thaws the block of ice in my chest. “ Oh , thisavré mou . I promise it will be okay. That boy loves you so?—”
Voice hoarse like I’ve swallowed razor blades, I stop her.
“ Please don’t. Not today. I’ll be okay, and dinner sounds great, but please let me have one more day to be bitter, angry, tired, and heartbroken . ”
She’s desperate to argue by the way her lips pinch together.
My exhausted brain sighs in relief when she holds her tongue, kisses me on the cheek, and leaves me to drown in self-pity.
“Wow.” I stare at my bowl with wide eyes.
“ This looks fancy.”
When my mom said we were having dinner at home, I expected something quick and easy.
Instead , my soup starter looks like something right out of a Michelin star restaurant.
It might be blended-up vegetables, but as the creamy, aromatic flavors hit my tongue, I’m in heaven.
It’s impossible to hold back my moan.
Veronica, my parents’ housekeeper, appears pleased I’m ingesting something other than Cheetos .
“ You’ve outdone yourself, V . What is it?”
The middle-aged woman chuckles and plucks a small menu from her pocket.
“ I wish I were this talented. It’s ‘smoky sweet potato soup.’”
The next spoonful is already being shoveled into my mouth, making her laugh and my mom to tsk, muttering something about table manners under her breath.
Dad just looks happy to see me eating.
It’s only when our bowls are cleared that I recall Veronica’s words.
“ Wait , what did she mean? Who cooked this?”
Mom blots at her mouth regally.
“ A friend of ours recommended a private chef to us. I thought it would be a nice change. Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s amazing. You put in a lot of effort for Tuesday night dinner…” My curiosity vanishes when the next course is presented .
I’m salivating at the sight of my favorite dish and beam over at my parents, who watch me in apt fascination.
“ You know I’ll never turn down tuna tartare.”
Without waiting for their response, I dig in, my noises of appreciation the only sound around the table.
Suddenly, my heart pangs with sadness as I’m reminded of the heated stare Booth would pin me with whenever I moaned over his incredible cooking.
He knew it, but most of the time, I played into it just to torture him.
My knife and fork hover above the juicy, fresh cubes of tuna and ripe avocado.
I miss him so much.
“Excuse me a minute, I need to visit the little boys’ room.” My dad excuses himself.
I push my food around the plate, feeling both full and empty.
To my mother’s credit, she doesn’t chastise me.
Her hand settles on my arm, squeezing once before she stands.
“Where are you going?” I ask as she walks toward the kitchen door.
“I am going to fetch more wine.” She nods at my plate.
“ Keep eating, you’ll feel better.”
Alone with my thoughts, and a meal that holds too many memories, I push back my chair and reach to clear my plate when my mom returns.
“Are you a vegetable? Because you make my heart skip a beet.”
Silverware and porcelain crash to the table.
The hairs on my arms stand to attention and my breath hitches.
How am I so clueless?
I’m convinced this is a dream until I turn toward the doorway where that soothing, baritone voice came from.
My eyes lock with dazzling blue, and the world tilts.
Pressed , white chef shirt, snug black pants, red bandanna secured around his mop of brown hair, and the crooked smile I never stood a chance against.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, fingers trembling over my lips.
Booth’s features soften as his gaze sweeps over me.
“ I’m your chef.” He gestures down his torso.
“ Isn’t it obvious?”
My chef.
“You’re here?”
He steps closer and my heart gallops in my chest. “ Of course, my girl lives here. She’s a big-shot investor. The most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Fierce as fire, and strong as the ocean. But … I’m a little mad at her.”
My smile drops.
“ What did she do?”
Smirking, he nears closer until there are only several inches between us, and leans casually against the dining table.
“ She’s always calling me out on my shit. Loves pushing my buttons and giving me a hard time. I fucking love it. But a few days ago, she didn’t do that. Instead , she showed me patience and didn’t pressure me when I needed it most.”
“She sounds smart.” My hands twitch at my sides.
He lets out a low whistle.
“ The smartest. Usually . The thing is, if she’d have used that big, beautiful brain of hers, and bullied me into doing what I was too scared to do, she would know that I called the executive chef of the Silver Goddess and agreed to meet with him tomorrow. She would also know quitting my job isn’t the scariest thing anymore.”
My eyes blow wide.
“ You quit? What about your family?”
A subtle smile pulls at his mouth.
“ Do you want to know what scares me now?”
He reaches out and brushes a frizzy curl away from my face, completely dismissing my nonsensical questions.
That single touch unravels me, and a tear trickles down my cheek .
I lean into his warmth, reveling in the rough skin on his hand.
“ What ?
When he bends down and inhales against my hair, my knees threaten to buckle.
A strong hand cups my jaw, dragging my misty gaze up. “ That she might never know how insanely in love with her I am.
How every day with her opened my eyes to a whole new world and made me a better man.
” His lips press to my forehead as he murmurs, “ I’m sorry for holding myself back— I was an idiot, so blinded by a promise I made long ago, that I lost sight of what’s important: happiness. And you, Alessandra Argiros , have made me the happiest man alive, with your cute frowns and secret smiles. I could live without oxygen, food, and wealth, because it’s fucking pointless if you’re not there with me. That’s all we need, Silv . You and me.” He pauses, and my heart thunders at his pleading eyes.
“ I’ll move heaven and earth to make this work, Alessandra . Just say the word.”
“But what about work? I’ll be in Germa? —”
He cuts me off.
“ Distance means nothing to me, baby. So long as I have you, that’s all that matters.” His lips brush over mine.
Not quite a kiss. “ I love you, Silver . And I know you love me.”
Laughter bursts from me, along with more tears that he quickly wipes away.
“ What makes you so sure?”
“Because your sharp edges are there for the world to see, but your soft ones are just for me. I get all versions of you and I’m going to spend the rest of my life cherishing every one of them.” With the tip of his finger, he raises my chin.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this man is my future.
“ Now tell me.”
I don’t make him wait.
With my next exhale, I breathe my words against his lips.
“ I love you, Booth .”
One.
Two . Pop . Pop . His dimpled smile is a sight to behold.
“ I know. Now kiss me, woman.”
So I do.
I kiss him like it’s the first and last time.
He kisses me back with equal need, licking and sucking into my mouth hungrily.
I give; he takes. He gives; I take.
Booth buries his face into my neck and sighs so happily.
“ You handed over the restaurant.”
Anchoring him to me, I loop my arms around his shoulders.
“ Are you mad?”
“Livid, baby.” His chuckle deceives him.
“ But you were a terrible boss. Fraternizing with the staff. Scandalous .”
I roll my eyes.
“ I should have fired you months ago.”
“Too late now.”
We go in for another kiss until we’re breathless.
“Hey, Silver ?” he whispers, grin shining down on me to warm my face.
“Yeah, Dimples ?” I ask and poke the little dent in his cheek.
“I can’t wait to spend all my todays with you.”
My smile matches his.
Equals in every sense of the word.
Finding Booth was unexpected.
Loving him was inevitable.
Our future together has just begun, with a hundred new beginnings right in front of us.