Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“No. But I figured you wouldn’t have gotten it if it sucked.”
She chuckles. “Thank you for your trust. It’s basically the chef deciding what we eat. Sort of like omakase. He selects the wine pairing, too. I always thought it looked interesting and wanted to try.”
The waiter returns with some paper-thin slices of fish on a huge green and white plate for each of us.
But shouldn’t it have more than just some tiny slices of citrus fruit of unknown origin on top?
The white crystal flakes look like salt or something.
At least the wine is Chablis Grand Cru, something I recognize.
“Hirame crudo,” the waiter announces, his back straight. He isn’t looking down at us, but something about the way he stands makes him seem just a tad condescending. “Slices of flounder, caught in the icy waters off Hokkaido, Japan, and dressed with fermented yuzu and fleur de sel. Enjoy.”
“I think the chef forgot to finish cooking this,” I whisper after he’s gone.
“Don’t you think our waiter would’ve pointed it out before bringing them here?”
“He could’ve feared for his life.”
She laughs. “Or it’s just the way it should be? Don’t you like sashimi?”
“No, sashimi’s fine, but this doesn’t even have wasabi. I’m very traditional when it comes to raw fish.”
She picks up a piece on my plate with her fork and brings it to my mouth. “Ahhh.”
“Wait, what is it?”
“Come on, don’t be scared. Try it. My arm is getting tired.” She starts to shake her arm theatrically.
Laughing, I take the bite. The fish is cold, but it’s so fresh that it doesn’t need anything but the hint of citrus and salt.
“What do you think?” she asks, her eyes shining.
“Good.” Then I frown. “Are you using me as a taster?”
She giggles. “Maybe. I’ve never seen it presented like this before.” She eats a piece, then nods. “Mmm. Definitely worth it. You undersold it by just calling it ‘good.’”
We eat in companionable silence for a few moments.
“So. What have you been doing since school? I mean, until we met again so fatefully.” After the conversation at Grandmother’s place, I’m curious.
“Well, nothing as exciting as you founding a lab diamond business, obviously.”
“I have you to thank for that. When you said there’s beauty to turning something common and unnoticed into a dazzling treasure, I was like, ‘Yup, that’s it.’”
“Did I say that?”
“Yup. It was during a case study.”
“Really.” She chews for a moment. “Huh.”
“So how about you? Doing something similar?”
“Not quite. I work for a small company.”
When she doesn’t elaborate, I ask, “What does it do?”
“Guess.” She sips the wine, her eyes challenging mine.
I cock my head. “You have to give me a hint.”
“EverAfter.”
“Weddings?”
“Yeah, something like that.” She picks up the tiny salt crystals off her plate with the tip of her finger and licks them. Her eyes are lowered. “The only thing permanent and real in life.”
“Did they plan that wedding ceremony in Beverly Hills?”
She laughs. “No. That was all me, choosing everything specifically to make the day extra special. You have no idea how many hours I spent in bridal boutiques to find just the right dress for my sister.”
I cough, then wrinkle my nose at the memory of that bitch at the wedding. She acted so proud after stealing Tyler from Olivia. Not that I wanted to see Olivia with him, but it’s the principle. My brothers would never steal anything of mine. “It, ah, sort of made her look wide around the hips.”
Olivia’s shoulders shake harder. “That was the point. It added twenty pounds on me, too, when I tried it on, and I knew that was it. The sales clerk was so grateful she even gave me a free veil.”
I burst out laughing. “Devious.”
“It was obvious what she was planning. She always steals everything from me—my home, my mom…my boyfriends.” Pensiveness clouds her eyes.
I reach out and hold her hand. “She’ll never take me from you.”
“Really?” She blinks at me across the table. “Even if she were lying in your bed naked?”
I shudder. “Ugh. No. I’d have to burn the bed and fumigate the entire house, then have Jeremiah sue the security team for its failure.”
Olivia grins. “Seriously?”
Although she’s smiling now, the hint of grief in her eyes earlier was all too real. “Why would I want her when I have you? I’d have to be blind and stupid.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. I’m just a little…surprised.”
“Why? You actually think I’d go for her?” I ask in shock, thinking back on our time together. I haven’t ever given Olivia a reason to believe that, have I?
“It’s just that your parents are in an open marriage, so I thought you might be…” She shrugs. “You know, a little, um, freer in your love.”
“That’s them, and I’m me. I don’t want an open marriage. And fair warning: I’m going to be a super jealous husband if I find you with another man.”
“Will I be—?” She draws a finger across her neck, her eyes comically wide.
I mock-frown, playing along. “No. I’ll just lock you away forever.” After I murder the son of a bitch.
“Hmm. Might be bearable. If you join me with Frederich’s cooking.” She winks.
“That goes without saying.”
The waiter returns to clear the table. Then he places langoustine with some foam on top along with two new glasses of wine. “Langoustine, seared to perfection in brown butter and topped with bisque whipped into a light foam and finger lime, paired with the chef’s choice of Chateau-Grillet. Enjoy.”
Olivia watches him leave with amusement. “He could’ve had a career as a herald in some medieval court.”
“Born in the wrong age.” This time I pick up a piece of the shellfish and feed it to her. “You taste first.”
Giggling, she takes it, then immediately covers her face.
“That bad?”
She shakes her head, waving at me to go ahead.
I bite into it. Holy cow. Silas makes some amazing seafood, but this is stellar. “Damn.”
“Right?” she says, lifting her flushed face.
I smile, then for some reason remember the pesky event from the morning.
She’s so happy. Should I tell her about Hugh’s visit?
But what if he tries to go to her next, whether to intimidate her about having children or to complain about that minor tap I gave his jaw?
I’ve been a little irritated that I didn’t hit him harder. He should’ve at least lost a tooth.
“What is it? You look really serious all of a sudden.” Olivia frowns. “Don’t tell me you just remembered you have a shrimp allergy.”
“Ah…no.” I sigh. Please don’t let this ruin the evening. “I was just thinking about Hugh. He came to my office this morning.”
She goes still for a moment, then bites her lip. “I’m sorry he interrupted your day.”
“Don’t worry, I got rid of him. He was just annoyed he couldn’t get through the security at home, and whatever.”
“How did he even find out where you live?”
“Where we live. And it isn’t exactly a secret.”
“True,” she says. “Should we get a couple of large, extra-mean Rottweilers?”
I laugh. “No. Not necessary. I just wanted you to be aware—in case he decides to barge into your office. He was loud. Obnoxious. The type to say stuff he shouldn’t to get what he wants.”
“What did he say to you?” she asks, her eyebrows pinching.
“Some crap about how you’re using me, nothing more.” I rub the furrowed spot gently. “Just a bunch of desperate bullshit.” Tell me he was wrong—that your feelings have been changing.
“Well…” She purses her mouth and lowers her eyes. “Thank you for not indulging him.”
Her soft words are like a knife cut, but I ignore the pain. I can’t focus on that when her eyes are so dark with grief. After taking a long swallow of wine, I paste on a cocky smile. “He doesn’t deserve it. He’s lucky I only punched him.”
She gasps. “You what?”
“He put his hands on me first.”
“He hit you?!”
I snort. “Please. Do I look like the type to get sucker punched by a weasel like him?”
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “No, but who knows. Maybe you had your guard down.”
“I wanted to drag him to the stairwell and push him down all twenty-five flights, but figured that might be considered excessive.”
“Would’ve served him right, though. That’s how Mom died—not the push part, but the falling down the stairs part. The sound—it can haunt you even after twenty years.” Her chin wobbles.
Fuck. I should’ve pushed him down the stairs, damn the consequences.
I get up and walk around the table, then silently wrap my arms around her.
I don’t tell her it’s okay—I know it will never be okay.
But as she burrows into me, I vow that one of these days, I’m going to make everyone who hurt Olivia pay the price.