Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After a short, but traffic-filled drive from her office to downtown, Dante pulled to a stop in front of a valet. At street level, the two-story glass-and-stone building looked more like a museum than a restaurant.
He held the door open for her, and she entered a cool, quiet lobby. In addition to designer furniture—like the long pea-green sofa and a rust-orange circle chair—paintings hung on the walls. Mostly abstracts, the color palette various shades of green, smoke blue, and gold.
Dante led them away from the home design showroom to the right, where a tidy concierge desk stood next to an elevator. A shiny brass plaque beside the doors read: The Perch.
“I have a reservation for two,” Dante told the woman behind the desk.
“Certainly, Mr. Crane.”
The woman stood and walked the short distance to the elevator, where she selected the floor for them and told them to enjoy their lunch.
As the doors slid shut, Honesty peered up at her date. “This is pretty impressive, Mr. Crane.”
“I aim to please, Ms. Benitez.”
A shiver climbed her spine at the low resonance of his voice. She almost chastised herself for it, but she was tired of hearing her own warnings of impending doom. She was going to enjoy herself, dammit.
When the elevator doors parted, an older gentleman with graying hair and a kind smile greeted them.
He invited them to follow. As they weaved through the room, Honesty gawped at her surroundings.
A dramatic glass roof curved overhead, black steel ribs separating the blue, blue sky into rectangles.
Diners sat at tables or in large, curved booths near the windows or next to massive potted hydrangeas.
Tall, live trees stood sentinel over the restaurant, as if keeping a close eye to make sure everyone had eaten their vegetables.
Nestled between tall city buildings, The Perch had earned its name. And beyond downtown, Lake Michigan stretched out like a watery blanket.
At four o’clock, the dining room was about a third full. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. She managed to clap her mouth shut as they were seated at their table, a window seat overlooking both the city and the water. The view was nothing short of breathtaking.
Dante offered a smug smile as he unrolled his silverware.
She gave him a slow blink. “Okay, billionaire vibes.”
“Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
She laughed at the familiar quote from the movie Anchorman, the throwback reminding her of laughing with Dante more often than not.
“How did you discover this place? Is there a billionaire convention where you share the coolest restaurants and places so that you can impress your girlfriends?” It was out of her mouth before she could reel it back in. She absolutely had not meant to imply that she was his girlfriend.
His eyes were affixed to the drink menu, but he’d heard her gaffe loud and clear. “A billionaire convention?” was all he said.
“I had no idea there was an atrium hovering over Chicago. And I love plants. And windows. I mean, the way the natural light is coming through the windows is…is great.” She pressed her lips together so that she’d stop talking. Hopefully, her chattering to fill the air gave him instant amnesia.
Dante didn’t flinch. “After visiting your apartment, I could tell you liked live plants. And I noticed how much you enjoyed being high up because of how favorably you responded to my penthouse.” He slid her a devilish look that held the promise of more of the same.
“Good afternoon.” Their waitress was a woman with auburn curly hair, freckles, and a cherry-red smile. “May I offer you something to drink?”
“I will have a martini, straight up, dirty, extra dry. Top shelf vodka.”
“Miss?”
Honesty nodded. “Same.”
While they waited for their drinks to come, she leaned back in the plush leather seat and sighed. She was tired, but at least her hangover was a thing of the past. “When I woke up this morning, I planned on ending our meeting ASAP so that I could climb back into bed.”
“Funny, I woke up hoping for the same scenario.”
“You’re a lot, sometimes.” She laughed.
“So I’m told.”
Warm sunlight streamed in through the windows and highlighted the sharp angles of his face. He could be a GQ model with his dark features and square jaw.
“The last ten days have been some of the fastest of my life,” he said. “I’m trying to do everything while I’m here, but time is sifting through my fingers.”
Had he been in town ten days already?
“You’re here for what, one more week?” She tried to sound casual, even as the visual of sand in an hourglass flashed in her mind.
“A few more days. As long as Jaylyn doesn’t plan another family gathering for me to attend to prolong my stay. I won’t leave until I’m sure you’re comfortable with the state of Long Live Food.”
“Of course.” She wasn’t worried about that. And his formal business tone was back. The one she didn’t like. She steered the conversation elsewhere. “By family gathering, do you mean the wedding? Did Brody and Reagan set a date?”
“No date yet. I assume that’s a few weeks out or maybe a few months. How long does it take to plan a wedding?”
“For normal people? Twelve to eighteen months. For a famous billionaire family with every resource at their fingertips? I have no idea.” She batted her lashes.
He took a deep inhale, his smile tightening at the edges. “Jaylyn has planned a dinner with my family. It’s the day after tomorrow. She’s calling it my ‘farewell’ dinner, but I suspect it’s more a ‘why don’t you stick around Chicago a while longer’ dinner.”
“So, why don’t you? Do you have to be in LA?
In the age of video calls and virtual everything, why not run the Moretti Foundation from anywhere?
” Before he got the wrong idea about why she brought it up, she said, “Jaylyn and I talked last night—not just about you, about a lot of things. She wants you home because she wants her family present as these milestone moments are happening. Reagan had her baby while you were in town. That is special, Dante. And soon there will be a wedding. Not only Brody and Reagan’s but Zander and Chloe’s, too. ”
His brow dented while she spoke. She was probably overstepping, but this was nothing he hadn’t heard from Jaylyn a hundred times over.
“She doesn’t want you to miss out like you used to when you were growing up. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Is that all?”
Before she could reply, their waitress returned with their martinis.
As their waitress chatted about the specials, Dante took a deep, cleansing breath.
Honesty was meddling, but he knew she wasn’t trying to meddle. She was sharing information with him as relayed by Jaylyn. While it wasn’t new news, hearing it had admittedly chapped his ass.
He put a pin in his mild ire while they ordered—prime rib for him, grilled cod for her, and shareable sides of mushroom risotto and grilled asparagus.
After the waitress left their table, he took a hearty swig of his dirty martini. It was strong, which was exactly what he needed. Honesty sipped from her own glass as she continued to marvel at the restaurant. He enjoyed impressing her.
He hadn’t missed her slip-up earlier, either.
She’d inferred that she was his girlfriend—an easy mistake to make, given that she had, in fact, been his girlfriend.
Of the days since he’d come back, he’d spent most of them with her.
That had been their “arrangement” but now that idea seemed as ridiculous as cutting everything off arbitrarily because he was flying home to LA.
He took another deep drink of his martini. Not because it bothered him to think of “Honesty” and “girlfriend” in the same sentence, but because it didn’t.
Spending time with her hadn’t felt suffocating or difficult. And while he craved her sexually, and saw no end in sight to that need, it also wasn’t the only way he craved her.
Earlier today as they’d discussed her charity, he had felt alive again. It’d been eight years since he’d navigated the ins and outs of the foundation he ran. The newness of hers had sparked life in him.
And then there was a moment when he’d noticed that she was tired and yawning. He had wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and tuck her into bed. And not for the reasons she would have thought.
He wanted to take care of her, to make her life easier—like he’d done in Northwestern.
When dorm life had been too much, she’d stayed at his apartment.
They’d lived off coffee and subs from the deli down the street.
There had been a time he’d thought life couldn’t get better than that.
Honesty toiling away at what she loved and him being able to provide for her.
And then the bottom had dropped out.
Exams and life had been busy and hectic.
News of his grandfather’s death paired with his mother’s panic and overwhelm had sent him straight into CEO mode.
Not just of the foundation, but of the part of life that had gone sideways at the time.
He’d had the capacity to care for two things at once.
He’d swapped college and Honesty for the Moretti Foundation and his mom.
“So where is this big, lush family dinner?” Honesty interrupted his train of thought to ask.
“It’s at my father’s restaurant.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Your father owns a restaurant? Where?”
“Here in Chicago. He bought it a month ago. He owns a lot of businesses. And like everything else he’s involved in, his presence is minimal.” He heard the ribbon of accusation in that statement and reminded himself not to upend his family laundry here, on this table, in this classy restaurant.
His phone played Jaylyn’s jingle. He glanced down at the screen and read the preview of her text.
“Everything okay?” Honesty asked worriedly. Probably because of the stony set of his facial features.
“Yes.” He placed the phone facedown on the table. “Jaylyn has cordially invited you to the very dinner I just mentioned.” A text pinged Honesty’s phone next. “I’m sure that’s her. She has eyes everywhere.”
Honesty checked her phone. “It’s Gabby. She wants to make sure I don’t need anything. I’ll text her back and confirm that hair of the dog works wonders.”
After she sent the text, he nodded at her glass. “I didn’t know you drank martinis.”
“I’ve never had one before.”
“Well, as they go, this one is very good.” He was going to have to order another one.
Their food arrived, and with it, his second drink. They ate in silence for a few minutes before she said, “I wouldn’t mind going, you know. To your father’s restaurant. Unless my going would make you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Do I strike you as someone who does things I don’t want to do?”
“You, Dante Crane, do exactly what you want to do—and nothing less.”
Even though she was agreeing with him, he frowned. Yes, he knew his own mind and acted in accordance with it, but the things he did were less about what he wanted and more about the people who needed him most. Which sounded more like he did what other people wanted him to do.
“I know I’m encroaching on your territory,” she continued, “so if you’re trying to make a clean break, tell me.”
“You think I’m trying to make a clean break?”
“Aren’t you?”
He shook his head, but…hadn’t he been planning just that? He was the one who made sure to label their reunion as temporary. She was doing a better job of rolling with the punches than he had. He’d invited her to a family dinner, for Christ’s sake.
It’s just dinner.
True. Dinner wasn’t the same as committing to a permanent relationship—to opening up his heart and laying waste to the sturdy wall he’d built around it. Him missing her was the devil that he knew. A comfort zone of sorts.
He wouldn’t uproot her life again, not when she was in a fragile stage in her business. The charity would require care and oversight and more of her than she could imagine. He didn’t envy that for her. He’d been through it with his foundation. And hell, it hadn’t even been new.
That she might need his help didn’t make him less inclined to stay in touch with her, but more. Because he could carry some of the weight for her. Being needed had been akin to a drug over the years, but why, when he thought of Honesty needing him, did it seem less of an addiction than a treatment?
“Ah, now Jaylyn is texting me.” Honesty tapped a reply into her phone. “Okay, okay, I’ll go! You Cranes are relentless.”
They really were, weren’t they?
And now he was beginning to wonder if that’s what he’d felt years ago. His father had relentlessly chased every whim, moving them to different states—different countries. His papa was truly a rolling stone—no moss on the old man because he never settled down.
Dante sliced into his steak, nodding at what Honesty was saying. He wondered if, after he left Chicago, she would be resentful or relieved. He’d been the one to step into her lush, green world and start hacking at the foliage. Maybe she’d be glad to see him go.
Leaving her once was the hardest thing he’d done to date. He knew she didn’t understand that. She thought he’d blown her off after three years together. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
But he wouldn’t ask her to upend her life for him—not again—even though leaving had been the end of them.
He wondered if leaving her a second time might just be the end of him.