40. Coq au Vin
COQ AU VIN
*There’s no shame in cheating with a little roux at the end.
H is presence should have made everything worse. I was already a ball of nerves on what was easily the biggest day of my life.
The grand opening of Chez Songe du Soir meant more to me than my final exam at the Institute. More, even, than the moment a few months earlier when Daniel Lyons had asked me to dance. Or even that day in Paris when Lucas Lyons had told me he loved me.
I should have been a wreck.
And yet, the evening couldn’t have gone better.
There were a few kerfuffles, of course, as every trial event might have. One server mistakenly brought out a tray of trout before it had been properly steamed. Another forgot to deliver one table the pitcher of broth for the deconstructed soup.
But instead of amplifying the stress as I moved between tables, Lucas’s steady gaze from his chair near the fire only served to ground me.
I tried not to look at him, but I couldn’t help it.
And whenever I did sneak a glance, those storm-cloud eyes were always on me, taking in every moment, every movement with unwavering support and confidence.
More than once, it allowed me to straighten, clear my throat, and keep moving better than before.
Damn him for that.
Ultimately, the evening was a resounding success.
For the first few hours, my guests enjoyed cocktails and appetizers in the December night, which had blessed us with a starry, crisp evening.
Afterward, they moved indoors for the dinner, which lasted hours.
We emptied several cases of wine, cleaned out my kitchen, and finally bid goodbyes to the guests, the last of whom were struggling to keep their eyes open, around two.
“ Merci !” I called to Sandrine and her husband as they escorted Monsieur Blanchet and his wife, who owned the local boulangerie, toward the exit for their walk back into town. “See you tomorrow!”
“Not too early, I hope!” Sandrine called back, making everyone laugh as they disappeared down the row.
“Girl,” Kate said beside me as we stood on the pergola, watching them leave. “If that’s all, I hear my bed calling.”
The band had long disappeared, the servers had already cleaned most of the dishes, and Louis and Nonna had long abandoned the hall after packing the leftovers.
It was just Kate and me now.
Plus a broody billionaire still sitting by my fire.
“What are you going to do about…” Kate glanced back inside. “Will you be okay, or do you want me to stay?”
Lucas was watching us through the window while he nursed a glass of soda water, just like he’d been drinking all night. Just as patient as ever.
I sighed. “No, it’s okay. I don’t really want to deal with him tonight anyway, so I’ll just put him in one of the guest cottages until the morning.”
Kate looked dubious but nodded. “All right. Give a shout if you need anything.”
I followed her inside, where she disappeared into her room down the hall, though not without leaning over and muttering something to Lucas that made his brows lift.
“Dare I ask what she said?” I asked as I took the armchair on the other side of the fire. Oh , it felt good to put my feet up on the hearth.
Lucas eyed my feet, and his hand lifted, almost as if he was considering picking them up just like he had done for me in Paris.
It was disturbing how good that sounded.
Sadly, his hand made its way back to his lap while he spoke.
“She might have mentioned that she’d make fish bait out of my testicles if I hurt you again.” He tipped his head in amusement. “I assured her it wouldn’t be necessary, but I’m not sure she believed me. Are all your siblings that protective of you?”
I chuckled. “Believe it or not, Kate is probably the most even-tempered. My brother punched Xavier in the face once.”
I didn’t tell Lucas that if my brother were here now, he’d probably have another punch with Lucas’s name on it, and for the same reason. History tended to repeat itself, but I had never imagined I’d be the one recycling a story of surprise pregnancies.
“You were incredible tonight,” Lucas broke through my thoughts.
An ember popped in the quieting fireplace, and I looked up. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more for you than cheese puffs and mushroom toasts,” I said. “The rest of the meal was planned based on the exact number of people attending.”
Lucas lifted his shoulders in a way that was oddly Gallic for an American. “It was an honor enough just to witness the night. You really were something, sweetheart. Truly in your element.”
At the casual use of the endearment, something in my heart cracked. I stood, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else but there with him.
Lucas stood with me, as if sensing the shift in atmosphere.
“Marie,” he said. “I?—”
“Marie? Tout va bien ? Everything okay?”
We both turned to where Jacques had come back inside, guitar case in hand. His typically kind smile had been replaced by concern as he glanced between Lucas and me.
I winced on my sore toes. “Everything’s fine, thanks. I appreciate all the hard work tonight. It wouldn’t have been the same without you and the band.”
“It was fun. A triumph, I thought.” Jacques nodded with a bashful grin but switched to French with another quick look at Lucas, who was frowning at him with his typical foreboding stare. “And with him? He was waiting a long time for you, no?”
I shrugged. “He was, but it’s fine. He’s from…a different life.”
“Is he the father?” Jacques’s gaze flickered down to my stomach so quickly only I could have seen it, though Lucas was watching him, hawk-eyed.
I opened my mouth to say no, but found I couldn’t lie. So, I shrugged. Jacques nodded, as if that made perfect sense, then switched back to English.
“Dinner next week?” he asked. “Or will I see you at the café?”
Lucas’s stare turned glacial.
“I—I’ll see you at the café,” I replied, wanting this conversation to be over. What was Jacques doing?
My friend smirked, then slipped a hand around my waist to give me a farewell kiss on each cheek. It was a normal gesture everyone in France did—but with Lucas as an audience, it felt much more intimate than normal.
“That will give him something to work on, huh?” he murmured in French before letting go.
I rolled my eyes. “ Oui, merci.”
Jacques chuckled as he turned for the door. “Until tomorrow, ma jolie .”
I waved, and Lucas watched Jacques bound off the patio well after the door had latched behind him. “What does ‘ ma jolie ’ mean?”
“It means ‘my pretty girl.’”
Was it horrible that I enjoyed the way a muscle at the side of his jaw started ticking furiously?
“I see I’m going to have to learn French.”
“I don’t know why.”
He turned, and those storm clouds surged. “Don’t you?”
We stared at each other long enough that the ice that had just formed between us eventually thawed again. I sank back down into my chair, and this time, Lucas did take my feet and put them in his lap.
“Lucas, you don’t have to— oh, my God .” A long, low moan escaped my mouth as his thumbs pressed into my arches. “Oh, Christ, don’t stop doing that.”
A low chuckle emanated from his chest. “I definitely won’t now that I know how much you like it.”
For a moment, it was like the last three months hadn’t happened.
Like we were back in the onsen, maybe, or in Frankie’s apartment the day before I’d seen those texts and everything had gone to hell.
When it had just been me, and it had just been him, and we had existed together as friends, then lovers, then something even more, I thought.
My heart ached as I realized that in another world, one where there wasn’t a multinational corporation and an arranged marriage and a crooked family and a million other complications that threatened to keep us apart, Lucas and I probably could have made each other incredibly happy.
A foot rub for me after a long day of service.
A lovely meal for him after a day at the office.
Sharing quiet moments by a fire while our kids slumbered upstairs.
I closed my eyes as a new wave of raw yearning swept through me.
Such simple things to want so badly.
Once he knew about the baby, he’d probably leave again. Because someone like Lucas Lyons wouldn’t want to stay in a tiny town in the south of France.
Just like I knew now that it was where I belonged.
“Marie.” His voice, deep and with a quiet sorrow that echoed the feeling in my chest, forced me to open my eyes.
He was watching me, like he always did. Waiting for me to begin the interrogation. Ask the questions that needed to be asked. Open the door for him to say or do whatever had brought him here after months of silence.
Fatigue fell over my shoulders like a mantle.
I knew the conversation would wring me dry. And I just didn’t have it in me to start that process now.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked softly.
I chuffed. “How exactly would you do that? You don’t know where anything is.”
“I could figure it out. Something to drink, maybe? Another soda water or some tea? I noticed you didn’t have wine with your guests. Was that just for tonight, or have you given it up completely?”
“Oh, it’s just that—” I started to explain, then realized my hand was over my stomach. “Actually, Lucas?”
He leaned forward. “What, sweetheart?”
He couldn’t know the way his endearment shot through me like a bullet, piercing the armor I’d been carefully rebuilding for the last few months.
Or maybe he did, and it was just one more thing he weaponized against me.
“I know there are things to say,” I said as I pulled my feet from his lap and slid them back into my shoes. “I know you didn’t come all the way here just to sit in front of my fire and rub my feet.”
“If that’s all you ever let me do, I would be all right with that.”
His frank admission cut my breath from my lungs. Especially when his dark eyes met mine with such naked longing, it was everything I could do not to launch myself into his lap and kiss that sadness away.
“Right,” I managed. Somehow. “Well, be that as it may, could we possibly wait until tomorrow to talk?”
A wry brow lifted. But before he could respond, I rattled on.
“It’s just that it’s almost three in the morning, and I’ve been up since five getting ready for this event.
I know we need to talk—I’ve got some things to say too—but right now, I just want a bath, a cup of tea, and my bed, in that order.
Can I offer you a cottage and a promise to talk in the morning? ”
Lucas worried his jaw a moment while the dying fire flickered over his face. “Of course,” he said a moment later. “I can stay in the village. I have a room at an inn there.”
“No need.” I found, to my dismay, that the idea of him enjoying the hospitality of anyone else put a nasty taste in my mouth. “Tonight was the grand opening, and I’m running a soft launch with a continental breakfast for everyone staying overnight. After that…we can talk.”