CHAPTER ELEVEN
Laurence
It took me a lot longer than I would have liked to find the place. I had to call in a few favors from old classmates, but I finally got the name of the place: Maison de Minuit. “Sounds like the name of a fucking whorehouse,” I grumbled when I found out. The sign on the door says that the restaurant is still under construction, but that doesn’t stop me from sneaking in along with a few construction workers. I act like I belong, like I’m supposed to be here. None of the men really seem to mind me any attention. One of them even holds the door open for me.
I find Vincent in the kitchen, hunched over one of the counters. He’s got his phone on the surface of the counter, scrolling through his feed. He looks bitter, an angry little frown on his face. When he looks up, his greeting is less than cordial.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he hisses.
I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, there. Just want to talk.”
He stands up a little straighter and puffs out his chest. I almost laugh at his attempt to size me up. I’m clearly taller and stronger than he is. Vincent probably knows that, too, but it doesn’t stop him from putting up a front.
“What do you want?” he snaps.
“I’m here to talk about Claire.”
Vincent rolls his eyes. A twinge of annoyance makes me clench my jaw. I hate this prick.
“What about her?”
“I know you offered her a position here.”
“And what? You’re going to be me to reconsider? You want her all to yourself?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I want you to double what you’re going to pay her.”
Vincent shoots me an incredulous look. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“Whatever you’re planning to pay her, I want to make sure you pay her double. She deserves it. She’s one of my most talented chefs and you’d better take good care of her.”
Vincent shakes his head and chuckles. “So, what? Are you her work reference?”
“I guess I am, yes.”
Vincent tries to glare a hole into my skull. I’m about to ask him what his problem is, but I swallow my pride. I’m doing this for Claire. Claire’s the only thing on my mind right now.
“You’re okay with this?” he asks me. “You’re okay with her leaving?”
“No. I’m not okay with her leaving.”
“Why don’t you ask her to stay?”
“Because it’s not my place,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s going to be an excellent head chef one day. If not with me, and not with you, then somewhere else. I’m not going to be the one to hold her back.”
Vincent’s shoulders slump a little. The effort to look intimidating must have finally worn him down. “Why aren’t you asking me for a job?” he questions. “Why are you so worried about her?”
“I think I love her,” I admit. My stomach does a massive flip. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. But it feels right. I love her smile, I love her laugh, I love watching her cook, I love having her beside me. I just want to make sure she’s looked after because that’s what she deserves. She deserves the world, and right now, I can’t give it to her. But that won’t stop me from trying. I don’t just want her to be happy, I need her to be happy.
“You think?” Vincent stresses. He chuckles and rubs at his temple. “My God, you’re stupider than you look.”
“Are we going to have a problem?” I growl, clenching my fists. I can feel my anger threatening to boil over. One more snide comment from this asshole and I won’t be able to promise him his safety.
“You’re really head over heels for her, huh?”
“Yes. So are you going to pay her double or what?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he says coolly. I’m about to lurch forward, to sock him in the eye, but then he gives me a small smile. “She’s already declined my offer.”
“What?” I say, taken aback.
“She was in earlier this morning. She asked me to offer you a position, too.”
A part of me wants to laugh. The other part wants to cry. Claire, sweet Claire. I don’t deserve a woman this kind, this considerate. My heart wants to explode. I want to find her and hold her and kiss her until we both pass out.
“But I told her no,” continues Vincent. “And then she declined.”
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “I guess that takes care of that, then.”
I turn on my heel to leave, but Vincent stops me. “You take care of her,” he says. “She’s a remarkable woman. I wish I’d seen it sooner.” I give him a curt nod before heading out of the restaurant. He doesn’t have to tell me. I already intend on taking care of her for the rest of my life.
I stand on the curb of the sidewalk and pull out my cellphone. I’ve ignored several of Claire’s texts and I immediately feel terrible.
Claire: Hey. Where’d you go?
Claire: I hope everything’s okay.
Claire: I miss you.
I take in a deep breath. I feel stupidly giddy. She misses me. And it goes without saying that I miss her, too. I decide to dial her number. I want to hear her voice. I want to hold her in my arms, I want to feel her against me, I want her lips on mine.
“Hello?” she answers. She picks up after the first dial tone. She sounds a little breathless.
“Hi, Claire, it’s me.”
“Where are you?”
“Are you at home right now?” I ask, answering her question with a question.
“Uh, yeah. Just getting ready to go to work.”
“Call in sick.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed. I could come up with a thousand and one explanations, a hundred different excuses. But the words slipped out from my mouth before I could really process what I was saying. “Because I’m on my way over to make love to you.”