Fight or Flight(63)

Dismay filled me, my immediate thought of Caleb and how he was only here for a few more days and I would lose them if I went to Nantucket. “I’m afraid that’s a little short notice, Roxanne. I do have other projects—”

“Are you saying my money isn’t important to you, Miss Breevort?”

I stumbled to a stop, disappointment filling me as I realized I would have to do this. “No, of course not. I’d be happy to meet you at the summerhouse. But I can only be there Wednesday. I have to return to the office on Thursday.”

“Well, we’ll just need to see about that. I can’t let you leave until I’m assured you truly understand my vision. I expect you at the house at ten a.m. sharp.” And then she hung up on me.

Deflated, annoyed, and generally wishing I hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning, I made my way into Canterbury in desperate need of my friend’s shoulder, pronto.

As I wandered over to the hostess’s podium, I caught sight of Jason Luton, the owner and head chef. He was conversing with his bar manager and lifted his head to acknowledge me as I walked in. He said something to his staff and then began making his way over to me. Jason was average height for a guy, with a slim, athletic build, concealed at the moment by his chef whites. He smiled at me and despite my bad mood I couldn’t help but smile back. Jason was a very handsome man in his mid-forties. His hair was gray but it did nothing to detract from his crinkly, sexy, twinkly blue eyes or charmingly lopsided smile. He had the kind of charisma that made your belly flutter.

He was also happily married and father to two daughters.

“Ava,” he said, bending down to kiss my cheek. “It’s been a while.” And did I mention the attractive British accent?

“How have you been?”

“The same.” He shrugged, looking around proudly at his restaurant. “Tired but happy.”

“And how are Gillian and the girls?” I asked after his wife and kids.

“Brilliant as always.” He gestured for me to walk with him and so I did. “Here to see Harper?”

“Yeah, she suggested we have lunch together.”

“She’s just working on a new concoction I’m sure the critics are going to rave about.” His eyes brightened at the thought. “I’ll send her out.” He pulled out a chair at a private table near the fireplace. “Lunch is on me.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I tried to protest, but he waved me off and sauntered away, disappearing into the kitchen.

As I waited, I stewed over the fact that I was going to Nantucket instead of spending time with Caleb. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much, but it did.

“I’m sorry.” Harper came hurrying out of the kitchen toward me. She practically fell into the seat opposite me. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had this bright kind of madness to them that I recognized. She was in a creative mood and high on it.

“Hey, I can leave,” I said, not wanting to interrupt her flow. “If you need to get back in there.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “Everything I can do right now is done. What do you need to tell me?”

Before I could open my mouth, the kitchen doors swung open and a guy I didn’t recognize in chef whites appeared. He was carrying two plates of food, which he brought over to us. “From Jason. Enjoy.” And he disappeared just as quickly.

I stared down at a beautiful plate of pan-fried hake, heritage potatoes, mussels, and a saffron butter sauce. It was one of my favorite dishes on the current menu. “Oh, yum. Who was the guy?” I asked, digging in, not one to lose my appetite when I was anxious or nervous.

“Denny, new sous chef.” She shrugged, picking up her fork and knife.

“Oh, what happened to Kevin?”

“New job. I didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.”

She looked up from her plate. “We’re not here to talk about our staffing situation. What happened this morning?”

And that’s how over the best lunch I’d had in a while I told Harper everything about Nick on Saturday night, then coming to a real understanding with Caleb, him advising me to talk to Nick, and finally what Nick actually had to say.

When I was done, Harper slumped back in her chair, looking exhausted for me. “Babe.”

“Right.”

“God, it never ceases to amaze me how messed up people are.”

My smile was sad. “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes on me. “So … you’re not even a little gratified?”

“About what?”

“That all this time the bastard has been so hung up on you that he screwed up his whole life.”

“You know me better than that.”

“You’re sad for Gemma.” She sighed and nodded. “I get that.”

“I’m even a little sad for him,” I whispered, hating to admit it. “He screwed up his marriage over something that wasn’t even real. I was only ever an infatuation. He didn’t know me like I thought he knew me, and I definitely didn’t know him. Plus, you don’t cheat on someone you apparently adore, right? I don’t even think it was our relationship he was holding on to either. I think he just … he didn’t want to grow up. He always seemed to be the one in control when we were kids, the protector, the one Gem and I could rely on. After high school he just seemed so lost. I remember how the thought of the future scared the shit out of him. He preferred living in the past.”