Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Escaping to the balcony had been more for Honesty’s sake than his, though he couldn’t tell if she was more relaxed or less.
A handful of guests had meandered outside. One stood at the far end, smoking a cigarette and laughing loudly with a friend. A couple of older guys peered over the ledge and murmured something about “the drop” and how it’d be “a long way down” before refocusing on their beers.
Honesty peered over the balcony as well, the wind lifting her dark brown hair. She wore it loose in waves, unlike the ponytail she’d favored in college. And that dress—damn. If she’d wanted to show him what he’d been missing, she had his full attention.
But she was more to him than enduring beauty. He’d admired her poise and confidence while she’d stood at the podium. How she’d managed to keep it together while speaking of a brother she’d loved more than anyone was beyond him.
And he’d died just six months ago. An absolute tragedy.
A pang of regret hollowed out his chest. He wished he would have known. He would have… Well, he didn’t know what he would have done. But something. Something, rather than nothing.
That was on him. He’d left Chicago, college, and Honesty in one fell swoop. Contact with her had been too painful, so he hadn’t reached out, save one text when she’d graduated. He’d sent “Congrats on graduating.”
Her reply? Thx.
The remainder of what they’d had together died off after that. He’d told himself it was just as well. That he’d been mourning his grandfather while running a foundation—an undertaking that hadn’t been easy.
Honesty turned away from the balcony to face him. Her eyes were like he remembered. Amber, with gold in the centers. Her mouth was exactly as he remembered—framed by soft, shallow dimples.
“Thanks for the save.” Her tone had changed, though. Gone was the girl who animatedly told stories while he scarfed down the last slice of pizza. The tone she’d been using with him tonight had been polite. Distant.
“People ramble when they’re uncomfortable,” he said. “And when the event is centered around a loss or a tragedy, they get worse.”
“It’s funny how we’re all the same.” She sipped her wine, but her brow wrinkled as if she was reconsidering that observation.
Dante and Honesty hadn’t been the same. They hadn’t been able to make the simplest of decisions in unison.
“So. You’re still in LA?” she asked.
A clumsy segue, but he’d take it. “Do I detect a note of hope in your voice?”
Her laugh was more contained than the one in his memory. “Genuine curiosity.”
“I’m still in LA. So is my mom, though she’s heading to New York with a box of couture gowns as we speak.”
“Big film?”
“Always.”
She flipped her hair, revealing one smooth shoulder. He pictured kissing that shoulder like he’d done a thousand times before, a thousand years ago.
“And how is the foundation? Assuming you’re still in charge?”
“I belong on top.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s—” He shook his head. “Not what I meant.”
She offered a restrained smile as her cheeks blushed pink.
“We’ve seen a lot of growth over the years. I’ve been on a hiring spree to keep up. I have to stay flexible to travel.”
“How is your family?”
“Brody and his fiancée are expecting a baby girl any day now.”
“Brody? Wow. Is this the first baby in the family?” Her smile was more genuine now.
“Yeah, he beat me to it.”
“Well, Uncle Dante. You’d better keep your schedule flexible. How are your other siblings? Or should I ask where are they?”
“Here, actually.”
“Your entire family is in Illinois?”
“Not Dad. And Brody and Reagan are in New York part-time. But yeah, Jaylyn’s in the city and so is Zander, with his first girlfriend since Emily passed.” After he said it, he realized that Honesty hadn’t known that news.
“I’m sorry to hear about Zander’s wife.” Her face fell. “So much has happened since…”
Since we broke up, he silently finished for her.
“And your business?” he asked. “Do you have a lot of clients?”
“I did. I used to. I don’t do many one-on-ones any longer. Somehow I went from passionate solopreneur to employing a team. And now…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s a half-baked idea.”
His ears perked. “Half-baked ideas are my specialty.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Now you have to tell me.”
“It’ll sound silly to someone who runs an entire foundation.”
“You have my undivided attention.” He stepped closer to her. So close, her confection-like perfume tickled his nostrils. His mouth watered as he picked up notes of caramel and almond. A hint of cinnamon…
Was it normal to want to kiss an ex-girlfriend fifteen minutes upon reuniting with her?
“I have an idea for a charity. For veterans.” She wrinkled her nose. “A bit more than an idea. I want to provide meals and teach nutrition and cooking so that they can lead long and healthy lives.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Thanks.” She cupped her wineglass with both hands. “I’m a little shy about the asking-for-money part. I’m no socialite.”
“Philanthropy is more than ass-kissing.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—” Her eyebrows jumped.
“No, you didn’t.” They were back to being polite. Careful. There was a time when they would have gone to the mat over less and had make-up sex shortly after. “I was agreeing with you in a really weird way.”
A group of women filed out the balcony doors, intercepting their conversation. He had a choice to make. Either wish Honesty well or continue the evening at her side. He knew what he wanted.
Now to convince her.
“Have you talked about your non-profit with any of the guests tonight?” he asked.
“Oh, no. It’s in the beginning stages. Probably too soon to ask for money.”
“First rule of charity.” He offered his arm. “It’s never too soon to ask for money.”
Honesty woke the next morning convinced that the event last night had been an elaborate dream.
She dressed for work, her eyes on the black garment bag holding the gown she’d have to return.
She pulled on a pair of joggers doing double duty as slacks and paired them with a button-down dress shirt.
As she applied her foundation, she replayed the rest of the evening—and Dante’s undeniable charm.
Once they’d gone back inside, all clunky conversation had ended. He’d buzzed around that room like he owned the place, naturally segueing from introductions to Honesty’s “pilot charity” that was going to “take Chicago by storm.”
The first time he’d said it, she’d laughed, which had earned a few confused looks.
She managed to keep a straight face the rest of the evening.
He’d handled incoming questions without issue.
Someone had asked the name of her charity and he had replied, “A trademark is forthcoming, so we can’t disclose that yet. ”
He’d offered his business card to anyone who had expressed interest, explaining that they could contact him when they were ready to donate.
Smoother than a fresh jar of peanut butter.
On that private corner of the balcony, he’d been the open, curious guy she’d fallen in love with at Northwestern.
But inside, he was a shark navigating chummed waters.
Dante had handed out answers like Tic Tacs—all in a day’s work for him, she guessed.
She hadn’t yet squared the two versions of him in her mind.
But damn if she wasn’t attracted to both of them.
A shiver of awareness shook her arms, which made it difficult to fasten the gold chain around her neck. She blew out a steady breath before giving up on the lobster clasp and pulling a beaded necklace over her head instead.
She pulled her hair out of her shirt collar and gave her reflection a stern warning. “We don’t like him like that.”
Not anymore.
She arrived at work thirty minutes later than usual, but had already texted Gabby that she was running late.
Her executive assistant met her at the door, smiling from ear to ear and practically vibrating with excitement.
Gabriela Estevez barely cleared five feet tall on a good day, making her at least six inches shorter than Honesty.
Gabby was curvy, didn’t mind displaying “the girls” in brightly colored V-neck tops, and always wore red lipstick.
“We’ve had so many emails flood in today, it’s unbelievable!
” Gabby said, her words coming fast, and perfectly enunciated.
“Karen Watkins called and wants us to advise her chef on the menu for the Ladies Who Lunch event on the twenty-eighth of this month, which is less than a week away. And Andrea Putnam called. She wants a full-time private chef. I told her we don’t typically provide that service, but since you interviewed a private chef last week for the charity, I thought maybe we could use him for this.
Or we can start an affiliate program. I know the non-profit thing is taking a lot of bandwidth, but I also… ”
Honesty made herself a cup of coffee while Gabby lived up to her name and filled her in on anything and everything that had happened this morning. Her assistant and close friend was often dismissed as bubbly, but Honesty knew the truth: she was whip-smart and damn thorough. Indispensable, really.
Honesty would have an itemized list of everything she was being told in her inbox in ten minutes…if it wasn’t there already.
“Plus, the Instagram DMs for Honest Nutrition are overflowing.” Gabby spread her arms to demonstrate.
Honesty had always loved the name of her business.
It was personal, because it was her name, but it also reflected the way she thought about food.
She looked at things in an honest way, and she was always truthful with her clients.
She had never had an agenda for any specific way of eating.
She focused on what was right for her clients.
That was her strength. It always had been.
“I’m not sure how to answer those DMs,” Gabby was saying. “Do you have time for a debriefing? After I know the details, I will set up an auto-response. You caused a stir last night, for sure, my gal. All publicity is good publicity, right?”
Coffee mug in hand, Honesty sat down behind her desk. “What publicity? Do you mean my speech?” She’d spoken from the heart about Christian, but a sister missing her brother didn’t seem sticky enough to go viral in today’s social media market.
Gabby, still smiling, dropped her jaw at the same time.
She pressed both hands—one wrapped around her oversized cell phone—onto the desk.
“No, not your speech! Your photo with Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I’ve seen Eli, who’s hot for an older dude, but my God.
Who knew Dante Crane was even a thing? From what woodwork did he crawl? And how did you hook him? Yum!”
Oh, God. What had happened? Did the paparazzi follow Dante around or something? Had they been recorded on the balcony without her knowing? She did a quick mental scan of who’d been around them, and what she could have possibly said that might have garnered this much attention.
“Everyone is saying there is a new Crane in town, and that he has a special lady on his arm. Everyone wants to know more about you, mystery woman! TMZ referred to you as a Cinderella!”
“What?” TMZ? What the hell had happened? She was starting to feel scared. Did she black out and forget causing a scandal?
“They call you a ‘Cinderella who kept her shoes.’ They say you vanished into the night, never to be seen again. Was this an elaborate plan to put Honest Nutrition on the map? If so, well done you. Our boutique company is going to have to hire more staff.” Gabby was beaming.
Honesty’s mind was racing. This was a lot of information to process before her first sip of coffee.
She lifted her mug to her lips as Gabby thrust her phone into Honesty’s eye line. “Look!”
In the photo, Dante, who was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, stood next to her in front of a backdrop covered with logos. Everyone in attendance had posed in front of that banner for a photo. Dante had walked her over there in between talking to guests. She barely remembered it.
“Your hip is jutted. Your eyes are smiling. Your chin is elevated. And that dress, honey. When I helped you pick it out, I had no idea how hot you’d look in it. I know you didn’t want to add weights to your gym routine, but girl! The gun show is in town.”
Honesty let out a nervous laugh. Okay, so she looked nice.
She could admit that the dress had done her a lot of favors, showcasing her toned arms and pushing up her breasts, while being full enough at the bottom to hide any problematic areas.
But as good as she looked in the photo, it was far from scandalous.
“This is what’s causing such a stir? A standard photo op? ”
“No.” Gabby swiped her phone’s screen. “This is the photo that is causing such a stir.”
In this one, Honesty was laughing, her mouth open, eyes scrunched closed. Dante was holding her close, his fingers cupped under her ribcage and dangerously close to her left breast. His mouth was hiding in her hair, his eyes crinkled with mirth.
Right. She’d forgotten about that moment.
“Everyone wants to know what he said to make you almost fall out of that dress. Listen to these comments.” She cleared her throat and read from her phone, “‘Did he propose? What in the Crane is going on? He’d dive into that cleavage if he had scuba gear on.’”
“Oh my God.” Honesty set her coffee aside. Maybe caffeine was the wrong stimulant for this moment. “Do we have vodka in the building?”
“Champagne, you mean? This is so great! You can’t buy publicity like this. I came in early today to get a jump on things, but I had no idea this was going on. I was so lost in the articles and posts and comments I didn’t notice the time flying by. It’s insane!”
It was insane. Honesty rested her fingertips on her temples.
“I thought you’d be excited.” Gabby lowered into a guest chair across from the desk.
“I am. I just…” Wasn’t expecting to be linked to my college boyfriend in the media by morning. “I’m surprised.”
“I understand. I pounced on you before you had your coffee. I’m an animal.
” Gabby made swiping motions with her hands like she was a tiger.
She hopped off the chair. “I will handle what I can, and we will reconvene in one hour. Oh, and if I hear from Dante Crane or his team, I will patch him through.”
Honesty started to say no, but Gabby was already skipping through the office. And singing. Maybe her friend was right and this would be a good thing?
But as Honesty gripped her coffee mug, she was having trouble seeing the silver lining in this particular cloud.