Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Madison’s life in Paris was over.
Her fate was sealed. She’d spit in the bully’s eye, and Dassault was going to kick her down. She would be persona non grata in the culinary world if he had anything to say about it. Certainly in France…she would have to see about elsewhere.
He’d also threatened to ruin anyone who helped her, and she had no doubt he intended to do exactly that.
As she scrubbed down the stove, she welcomed the sting on her hands from the steel wool she’d used for extra cleaning.
God, she’d been so close to having her star. Tonight had shown her just how close in the parting words of Christophe Flaubert and Chef Parnaud: We are in agreement. Your menu deserves three stars. Not that it matters now.
Somehow it was worse, knowing she’d achieved the excellence she’d hoped for. She would have to find another restaurant and start over. Would the Barcelona job even be open to her after tonight?
She plunged the steel wool in the bucket again, splashing the floor. If Kyle’s family could only see her now…
Except they had left after Kyle’s ultimatum.
She scrubbed the grates harder. On another night, she might have been thrilled that he’d stood up for her and drawn such a firm line in the sand. But she’d nearly burned her hand on the sauté pan when his voice had trailed into the kitchen.
He’d announced he planned to marry her.
Was he insane? She wasn’t a wife. She was a chef. Her life was the restaurant. Not fetching him…whatever it was a wife fetched her husband. Slippers? With Kyle, it would be dry cleaning.
What in the hell had he been thinking? How could he tell them that before talking about it with her? And even more humiliating, her entire English-speaking staff had overheard, which meant everyone would know her business.
Respect mattered—especially being a female chef.
She stewed for as long as she could, cleaning the stove until it looked new. Then she stood up and gathered Pierre to her chest in a comforting hug. He’d been trembling from all of the drama tonight. “Almost finished, my friend.”
Stopping herself short, she bit off what she normally told him. We’ll go home soon, I promise.
Home…
God, she had to tell Kyle what had gone down with Dassault and then tell him she would have to leave for good.
“Don’t be sad,” the parrot crooned in his new English, rubbing his cream-colored head against her black apron.
“We’ll be all right, Pierre,” she whispered, except nothing would be for a long time.
Pierre would have to remain in Paris. He was an integral part of Dean and Jacqueline’s new business. Her heart throbbed with more pain.
Then there were her roommates, the Plus Ones…Nanine. Spike even.
God! The last seeds of hope were gone. She knew the landscape, and it was as ugly and rough as her old neighborhood where she’d trudged alone.
She bit the inside of her cheek, the pain focusing her. She had to move forward. That was all there was to it. She’d need to do it quickly too. Because she couldn’t take big, emotional scenes with anyone. They would tear her into shreds, and she’d borne enough damage tonight.
Her staff was still cleaning around her, as if they too needed to scrub away the ugliness of the night and reestablish order in their stations. Walking to her special stash of liquors, she pulled out a rare bottle of yellow Chartreuse and headed to the center of the kitchen.
The staff turned their attention to her, hands folded behind their backs in a crisp line that did her chef’s heart good.
She’d done well with them. Starting over with a new staff would be hard if she was lucky enough to land another job, but she’d do it.
She’d done it here. She had to remember that.
“Tonight was our most challenging night yet, but we stood up to the pressure. I would like to personally thank you for your excellence. Two renowned persons in the culinary world tonight paid our cuisine the highest compliment. Let’s celebrate that.”
Because there was no way she was saying more, certainly not about Kyle’s parents and their party from hell.
Fabian and a few others brought out glasses, and they all had a drink. When it was finished, she walked to the front of the house stroking Pierre’s feathered head, where she knew Claude and the others were setting up for tomorrow.
She stopped short when she spotted Kyle sitting at a corner table, a bottle of Louis XIII beside him.
There was a lone drink in front of him. Her staff paused when she entered, and she noted they had brandy snifters beside them as they finished up.
So, he had taken care of the front of the house and shown his appreciation for a job well done.
Like a good partner did. Like the head of The Paris Roommates Group did. Didn’t it only prove how integral he was to Nanine’s and the group’s other two businesses?
They locked gazes. Her heart pulsed thickly in her chest. His every thought and feeling filled his baby blue eyes. He knew what was coming, and he planned to fight her. Didn’t he know she wished things were different? If only they could ignore reality and keep living in their little Romance Shrine…
But there was no more putting off reality—for either of them.
God, how were they going to get back to what they’d been?
They’d promised each other they’d always be best friends.
Right now, she just didn’t see how she could return to only having that part of him when she’d had everything.
Being with him, completely, had fulfilled her in ways she could never have imagined.
How was she supposed to be satisfied with simply talking to him and spending time with him like a friend when she knew what it was like to be in his arms, to fall asleep beside him—to wake up every day knowing he was there?
Even worse, how was she supposed to handle seeing him possibly moving on with someone else?
Crossing to him because she wasn’t a coward, she gestured to the bottle. “Thank you for taking care of the front of the house. I’d just finished a drink with the kitchen. This was my next stop.”
“I figured they deserved some Louis XIII,” he said softly, for her ears only. “It’s on me.”
Because a glass of Louis XIII cost more than most of them made in one night, and this was his way of apologizing and showing appreciation. “You should probably offer my kitchen staff a shot. I only brought out the rare Chartreuse.”
Normally he might have laughed. Instead, he stood slowly, his navy suit still impeccable.
“I’ll tell them I’d like to thank them tomorrow night with the Louis XIII if that’s all right with you.
” Even now he was ceding to her authority in the kitchen.
“I’m sure everyone is eager to go home. I know I am. ”
There was that word again.
Home.
Spike would be waiting. Had he been alone this whole time? She had to bite the inside of her cheek again. God, she was going to miss that silly little puppy. This is what she got for having pets. She was never doing it again.
“That would be nice, thank you,” she responded, hating how formal it sounded. “I’ll have Claude tell everyone they’ll be getting the Chartreuse tomorrow. Like a drink swap.”
He nodded, his gaze scanning her face. Yeah, he knew she was close to running out the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
She walked over to Claude and thanked him for his exceptional service.
He demurred, of course, and while his manner was professional, she could see the sadness in his eyes.
“It was an honor to serve beside you tonight, Chef,” he responded crisply in French.
“I hope you will not mind me being so bold as to say that Nanine would be proud of you. The entire staff is behind you.”
Her throat thickened. Yeah, he knew the ensuing tumult was going to be hell. “Thank you, Claude.”
She moved on to their sommelier and the rest of the staff, doing her best to thank them.
As she gazed around the newly renovated Nanine’s, she felt her eyes start to burn.
They’d poured so much love into this place.
Sawyer’s artwork pulled at her heart, especially the ethereal painting of Nanine they’d hung on the main wall to honor the woman who’d started it all.
They would all have to speak of what had happened tonight.
But first she had to talk to Kyle.
People whispered soft goodbyes as they left. When Kyle finally emerged from the kitchen, he held her coat and Pierre’s cage and throw. “Ready? Fabian and I closed down the back.”
Of course. Kyle had a strategy even now.
She took care of Pierre before reaching for her coat. Kyle only cocked a brow at her and held it up, like he intended to help her into it, something he’d been doing since they’d gotten together.
Deciding to fold her arguments for something more important, she allowed it. But she froze as his arm came around her after she’d shrugged it on.
“Before we talk about this,” he quietly said, “I want you to promise me you’ll remember how much we love each other…that we’re best friends.”
She bit her lip, the pain nearly drowning her.
Not I love you.
No, that would be too easy.
He was reminding her of everything they’d shared.
God, he couldn’t have made it harder.
“Let’s just get home. We have a lot to talk about.”
When he turned her around, she caught the fire in his eyes. “I want your promise,” he insisted. “Here and now, Mad. I’m not leaving without it.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She felt mute in the face of so much emotion. “Dammit, Kyle.”
His mouth tipped up. “I’d prefer, Dammit, mi amor.”
My love. Clever of him to remind her he was learning Spanish for her. “You have my promise.”
“Good.” He pressed his hand to her back as they walked to the door, continuing with the whole couple’s routine they’d established.