Chapter 17 #2
As she placed the wineglasses down with a heavier hand than she’d intended, they clattered slightly on the wood.
Only Ethan seemed to notice, looking at her hands and then up at her, his expression inscrutable but intent.
The others were focused on the meal being laid out in front of them—rather than being placed on the serving board as it usually was—the bowls fitting perfectly around the Dutch oven on the round table with room to spare, with Maggie’s now-signature ratatouille dish still steaming in the center.
Maggie had clearly reduced the amount she cooked from a “regular” night, when the guests were—usually—more plentiful, allowing the food to be served more family style rather than buffet style.
Once again, Julia found herself admiring Maggie’s foresight and wondering why she stuck around for such little appreciation and abysmal pay.
“Is that open?” she asked Ethan bluntly, gesturing to the wine bottle in his hand with her chin.
“Uh…” He looked down, as though forgetting he even had it. A lock of burnished-gold hair fell over his brow in an annoyingly handsome way, and Julia had the urge to brush it back with her fingers.
Or snip it off with scissors.
Looking back up at her—obviously not privy to her slightly unhinged thoughts—he asked, “Do you have an opener?”
One bottle opener, five full plates of meat-free food, and four and a half glasses of wine later (Maggie had insisted on hers only being a quarter full, while Julia took an extra splash or two), everyone was digging into their food and lavishing Maggie with praise.
“To die for,” Katy cried around mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. “Why isn’t our friend Norman here enjoying this as well?”
“Norman went home,” Julia said, swallowing the gulp of wine she had been consuming while Katy was talking. “He usually doesn’t stay for dinner, though sometimes he’ll take something home.”
“Yes,” Maggie agreed, delicately chewing her own food. “Although he wasn’t interested in tonight’s meal, sadly.”
Julia nodded, understanding that the lack of meat was probably a deterrent for old Norman, and made a mental note to buy some cold cuts or something to tide him over the next few days and offset all the vegetarian options she and Maggie were going to have to plan out.
“So, how do you two know each other?” Noah asked abruptly, gesturing with his fork, still pierced with a piece of eggplant, between Ethan and Julia.
The silence lingered, all the fork-scraping, glass-clinking, and chewing stopping simultaneously.
Julia swallowed hard. Had Ethan said anything?
Julia was still trying to wrap her mind around how to respond when Ethan decided for both of them.
“We…don’t.”
Although she hadn’t been sure how to answer, his quick refusal rubbed her the wrong way.
Was it that detrimental for Katy and Noah to know that Julia and Ethan had history?
It seemed as if Ethan thought so, and he was drawing that line between professional and personal.
Julia knew that historically, of the two of them, she tended to be more of a closed book.
However, the two celebrities’ easy personalities—and maybe a bit of the wine—had made her want to open up a bit more. Was that foolish of her?
Ethan’s swift denial made her think it probably was.
Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes with a chuckle before looking at Katy, who gave a secret smile to her plate but didn’t say anything.
“You must think we’re dumb,” Noah replied good-naturedly, putting his fork down. “Because you two have the deep-rooted vibes of a close friendship.”
There was no mistaking the connotation of the word close, and Julia felt her face flush.
“We know each other,” she said through gritted teeth, though she tried to maintain something resembling a smile. “But we’re not…close. In any capacity.” Picking up her wineglass, she took another huge gulp, barely noting how it was almost empty now. “Strictly professional.”
Noah looked between them skeptically. “That’s it? Just professional?”
“Yup!”
Julia was surprised to hear her firm agreement chorused by Ethan, who was putting down his own half-empty wineglass. She continued solo: “That’s it. No sordid past or present.”
“Hmm.” Noah peered at them closely for a beat, then shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me. I definitely caught some friends-with-benefits-that-ended-messy vibes.”
He couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any closer if he were trying, and instead of answering, Julia gave a half-hearted chuckle and polished off the dregs of her wine while Ethan choked slightly beside her.
The rest of dinner went by uneventfully, with everyone complimenting Maggie repeatedly and finishing the Brunello, plus another bottle of red that Ethan pulled out from Julia’s collection.
By the time dinner was winding down, it was close to eight o’clock.
“Man.” Noah heaved out a sigh, placing his hands on his belly.
“That was hands down one of the best meals I’ve had.
” His words were slightly slurred, as Julia assumed all their words would be, since she was definitely feeling the effects of her third—or was it fourth?
—full glass of wine. A glass that was now suspiciously empty once again.
“Why, thank you,” Maggie said, cheeks pinkening at his compliment for what seemed like the hundredth time this evening. Only to grow even redder as Katy threw her arm over Maggie’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug.
“I’m going to hire you as my personal chef!” she declared, her voice indicating that she’d enjoyed a few glasses herself. “I’m bringing you back to California with me, that’s it.”
“No,” Julia protested through her giggles. “I need her. I can’t cook!”
Katy waved a hand at her in mock dismissal. “You’ll have to make do, I’m sorry. She’s mine now! Oh, let me help you.” Katy stood as Maggie did, gathering dishes despite Maggie’s mild protests.
“You can cook.” Ethan’s voice came through quietly amid the chaos and laughter of the others.