Chapter 1 #2
“Yes,” Dell said, a bit of annoyance creeping into her voice. He never remembered details about the wedding. “But they couldn’t
get the passionfruit shipped in from Paraguay on time, so we have to choose a new flavor. I told you this last week.”
“Right,” Tommy said with a nod. “You and your insistence on sourcing the rarest ingredients.”
“That cake was going to be epic,” Jason said, as if Tommy’s comment was an insult.
“As will whatever we choose today,” Dell said before they started sniping at each other. “Mari, please carry on with the schedule.”
“Right,” Mariana said. “Lunch with the mayor and Mr. Moratto at noon.”
Tommy wiggled his eyebrows and kissed Dell’s cheek at that part.
“Meet with the lawyers to sign the prenup at two, then arrive at Pergo for family service by three.”
“You’re still working tonight?” Tommy asked with his arm looped around Dell. He turned sideways to cast her a curious look.
She pecked his cheek and smiled. “I told you: busy day today. Pierrick Moreau, remember?”
“Always a busy day,” Tommy said with a tight smile.
“I also sent a gift basket to your brothers for finalizing the purchase of the China Basin property,” Mariana rattled on.
“And a bottle of champagne to your parents for their anniversary.”
Dell’s face flamed in shame. She’d forgotten both. “Thank you.” She shimmied out of Tommy’s grip and set her empty cereal
bowl on the counter. “Now, first things first: jog with Jason.”
Jason hopped up off his stool and did a power flex like the Hulk. He growled for special effect. They’d started their day
with a jog together for more than a decade, ever since they met in college. Jason was a mainstay in Dell’s life; he folded
himself into her routines like a note tucked into a book, and she wasn’t sure she could ever live without him. After culinary
school, they’d lived together in New York while Dell honed her kitchen skills in the hellfire of elite fine-dining establishments.
When she wanted to move back home to the Bay to open her own restaurant, it wasn’t even a question Jason would move with her.
They’d lived together again, and he moved out only when Tommy moved in—which was a transition Dell did not wish to repeat.
“Can you fit me in for a tight fifteen today?” Jason asked. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Dell ran the schedule Mariana had just recited through her mind and could not find a gap. “Sure, let’s talk on our jog,” she
offered.
“This isn’t exactly a jog-and-talk conversation,” he said with subtle excitement dancing in his voice.
Dell shot him a curious look. “Consider my interest piqued. Mari, can you find time for a meeting with Jason today?”
“Not without bumping something,” Mariana replied.
“It’s okay. It can wait,” Jason said.
Dell took him at his word because she didn’t have time to rethink her schedule.
Mariana had set up camp at the island. Dell would find her returning emails on her laptop and keeping said schedule in order
when they came back wind-tousled and sweaty. She wasn’t sure she could ever live without her either.
Dell and Jason jogged along the marina. The bay was a patchwork of steel gray and bright blue, changing color like a teenager
changes moods as the wind whipped around the fog. The Golden Gate Bridge stood guard over its mouth, and Alcatraz looked like
a rocky mole on its chin. A few boats with colorful sails cutting the haze like blades braved the morning chill.
They had learned over the years to pace their strides to keep in sync: Jason took shorter steps, and Dell took longer ones
to even out their height differential. They moved like a four-legged animal.
“How are you feeling about the wedding one week out?” Jason asked as they neared the end of their route. They’d also perfected
the opportune pace for holding conversation while jogging.
“Good. Finalizing a few things today and next week, then all systems go.”
“I’m sure every detail will be perfect. Well, except for the groom, though no doubt he’ll turn out looking like a snack in
a tux for the event.”
Dell cast a sideways glare at him. “Okay, one, still weird you have a crush on my fiancé, and two, you can’t do this whole
He’s so hot, but I hate him bit.”
Jason smirked at her. “You just described every relationship I’ve ever had, so, yes, I assure you I can.”
“Fine, but you have to be nice to him once we’re married.”
“I will, and by my count that means I have seven more days to be an ass.”
She rolled her eyes as they reached the point where they slowed to walk and cool down. “I’d rather you spend those seven days
learning to get along with him.”
Jason let out a big breath. He looked at her with a rare sincerity in his eyes as they walked. A fleeting moment void of snark.
“Since I’m allowed to be an ass for seven more days, I’m going to say this to you before the window closes: Are you just marrying
him because your parents want you to?”
Dell stopped walking as if she’d been punched. “What?”
Jason gave her a flat stare. “Dell, come on. I know you. I know you have this bizarre perfect-daughter complex, and I know you’re under a lot of pressure from your family, like, all the
time. You and Tommy are the perfect golden couple on paper, but I don’t think you have real feelings for him. At least not
marry him feelings.”
Dell couldn’t do anything other than stare at her best friend because, in true Jason fashion, he’d spoken all the words she
was too afraid to say out loud.
“Also,” he went on, “Tommy is a tool bag who doesn’t deserve you.”
She shot him a glare.
He held up his hands in defense. “Still allowed to be an ass. Seven days, remember?”
“Yeah, to him. Not to me. Where is this even coming from?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe from the way you kill yourself trying to impress your parents in every other aspect of your life, how you never light up around Tommy, and the look of guilt all over your face right now, like the time I caught you stealing my La Mer night cream.”
Dell’s cheeks flamed in shame. Damn him for seeing through her. She was not shocked her best friend was being so blunt, but she was surprised he’d waited until that moment to say something.
Her wedding was in a week. Not exactly high time to call the whole thing off, especially since half the city was going to
attend.
Jason gripped her hands in his and gave her the most serious look she’d ever seen on his face. “Dell, I love you, and I just
want to see you happy.”
His words hit her with the discomfort of an ill-fitting shoe. One that might rub blisters. She and Tommy hadn’t known each
other that long, but he fit the box she needed to check: marry someone of prominence. She had a lot to live up to in her family,
and the mayor’s son was the perfect candidate. Sure, when she was with him maybe she didn’t feel explosions of rainbows and
butterflies, or whatever true love was supposed to feel like. But she felt enough. Besides, they were perfect on paper: him, a golden son and political heir, and her, technically an heiress to a real estate
empire. They would make a couple worthy of each family’s dynasty.
She pulled her hands out of Jason’s. “I am happy, Jay. You don’t have to worry. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“No, it’s not. But are you really happy though?” he asked, and fell into stride beside her as she resumed walking. “Tommy
is the first guy you met when we moved back to the Bay. And he put a ring on it and moved in within a year. Don’t you want
to shop around a little?”
“Jason!” she scolded with a laugh. She held up her left hand and sent her ring sparkling. “These things don’t usually come with a return policy.”
“Oh, sure they do. You could slip it off right now and throw it into the bay. Then we’ll change your name and board a flight
to Aruba. Tommy seems like the type to hunt you down if you disappeared. He’s got a Fatal Attraction glint in his eye I’ve never liked.”
“Oh my God, stop it!”
He skipped around to face her and walked backward. “But I’m serious, Dell. What about Oscar at work?”
She flinched in surprise. “My sous-chef?”
“Yeah. He’s single. And hot.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to step around him. “First off, I’m not single, and I’m pretty sure he’s got something going on with Sasha. And besides, dating a coworker is a recipe for disaster,
which, I guess I should keep an eye on him and Sasha . . .” She thoughtfully trailed off and had a vision of her sous-chef
and head pastry chef stepping out of the freezer looking flushed rather than chilled.
“Okay, then what about someone like that guy on the slopes last year?” Jason said. “The one who crashed into you when we were
skiing.”
“Who?” she asked, having only a vague memory of that trip to Tahoe, which involved more time sipping mimosas in their Airbnb
and drunkenly sledding down the driveway than time on the actual mountain.
“Oh, come on. The one who plowed into you, and your skis got all tangled up like a scene out of a rom-com, and you had that
huge bruise shaped like Italy on your thigh for a week.”
Dell frowned at the memory. There had been a tall, uncoordinated man who’d seemingly forgotten how to stop on skis and taken her out in the process of trying to relearn. “That was nothing. I couldn’t even pick that guy out of a lineup.”
“Pfft. I could. He was hot too.”
“Jason, this is pointless,” she snapped. She stopped walking again and stomped her foot. “Despite your best efforts, you are not
talking me out of marrying Tommy a week before our wedding, especially not in exchange for a respected coworker who is, yes,
admittedly very good-looking, or for some stranger who french-fried when he should have pizzaed.”
He grumbled and cast his eyes skyward right as a familiar local hollered from a nearby bench.