“Phil rang this morning. Emille’s not well so they won’t be coming.”

I placed another starched white napkin on the folded pile and scowled at the other 200 off to the side. “No mention of the girls?”

“Nope. Your guess is as good as mine.”

It was judgement day. Doors were being opened late afternoon for a casual, soft launch where people could come in and try a specialised mini menu of what our chef would be offering once fully open. We’d lucked out finding this fantastic guy, Warren, who’d fancied a change of pace. London was too frantic for him, he’d said, after years of being in the same place, he wanted to slow down, different scenery. He’d relocated with our help and found an upper flat in the village he could afford, was excited to come on board. I liked the guy and he’d promised he wanted long haul. With no commitments he was up for settling down and hopefully making home in Beaufort. As a young guy, well, if you called thirty young, he suited the business, looked great on our flyers, had plenty head chef experience. If anything, his good looks and suave attitude would bring the ladies to eat just for a peek at his face. He didn’t scream of an arrogance that rubbed me the wrong way; I had a good feeling about him and his food was to die for, with some great ideas - we’d given him free reign in the kitchen. I was quietly confident with Warren on board, we’d at least break even.

It was suit and tie time, attire I hated with a fiery passion but a necessary evil for the evening. I’d tidied myself up, trimmed the beard now adorning my face and suffered a haircut. Thinking of Taylor wasn’t as all-consuming these days, four weeks of not seeing her face had dulled my senses, but today was proving difficult. Unsure if she would appear or not was giving me hives. She hadn’t replied to the RSVP, but her silence didn’t mean anything, and the idiot I was, hadn’t found courage to ask her on the phone, fearing she’d shoot me down anyway. I had to focus on smooching with guests not Taylor. I put my head in the game and plastered the most welcoming smile on my face I could dig up. I undoubtedly looked constipated and if Lucca’s loud, bellowing laugh when he looked my way was anything to go on, I was right on the money.

Bastard.

Polite conversation was not my forte and Lucca had to rescue me more often than not the more the night went on. Eventually, I escaped to the back of the room, Lucca following, stealing a minute to go over the results of the night.

“Standing room only, bro.”

“They like his food.”

“You think it’s curiosity or a genuine interest?”

The amount of people who’d said Beaufort sorely needed a place where they could eat and drink some excellent fare, had been numerous. The conversations were almost the same the room through. The villagers loved Italian food, loved the restaurant. “Interest.” I was sure of it. Platters were emptying at a vast rate, champagne glasses on a constant refill - all free. Warren had been in and out of his kitchen more than once through the evening. “They like our chef too.”

“This is great, Ryder. I’ve got a good feeling over this.”

Lucca didn’t see her when she walked through the door. My breath hitched when I clapped eyes on her though, looking so much like Taylor. Emotion swelled in my throat, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. She meant the world and more to him, and she was here staking her claim, saying she felt the same way. I gave a coy smile over his shoulder to the maitre’d, watching as his eyes widened before he turned around. I gripped his shoulder. “Go get your woman.”

I bowed out and moved back into the shadows of the room. This wasn’t my moment. It was Lucca’s.

Taylor hadn’t come.

My heart pinched, and my skin grew clammy to the point I felt too warm. Ripping my tie from its knot, I let it hang loose and looked at my feet, shoving my hands miserably into my pants pocket, cracking a little bit more.

Laura and Lucca deserved happiness, a future they’d found in each other. To see my best friend shining with love for someone was all I’d ever wanted for him. I knew he’d find it eventually, the man was too good not to be loved by someone like Laura. They were perfect for one another.

Real men didn’t cry but really - who gave a fuck - I wasn’t far from it. Disappointment leeched through me and I could have crumbled to the floor in front of all these people and not cared. I glanced up at the doorway again, hope a fickle bitch and while my best friend’s dreams were coming true, my nightmare stuck in my throat. The glint of happiness that’d briefly outweighed the heavy sadness that had been my ever-constant companion these last few weeks, fell away quickly.

Scanning the room, the obvious success of the launch was everywhere. Loud chatter pulsed around from pleased and hopefully future patrons. But Taylor wasn’t there and without her I was in no mood to celebrate any longer. Turning to leave, my eye caught sight of a familiar figure standing awkwardly by the front podium. She had her back to me, but I’d know her anywhere.

Anger bit at me. Instead of escaping through the back as I’d originally intended, I marched toward the front of the restaurant, snatching her arm and spinning her around when I reached her. Propelling her outside, my anger ignited, I didn’t need a scene on this night, not with her.

“Move.” I growled as I coerced her from the front of the restaurant and onto the expanse of the wooden dock none too gently. Once I’d pulled her out into the chilly night, I stopped and looked her over, dropping her arm, disgusted she would come here tonight of all nights. She looked like hell; her dress loose on her frame which wasn’t her style and didn’t suit her at all. Flat sandals instead of sky high fuck me shoes looked foreign on her feet, as did her bare arms with no coat. It was fucking freezing. I took in her face as she stood limp, her eyes vacantly staring at me, a watery smile on her pallid lips. Dark hair fell across her eyes where shimmered tears threatened through blackened eyes.

Fucking hell...

My fury fell away quicker than the nightly temperature when I studied her closer. No matter how much I despised this woman, a hint of pity struck me, she’d come for a reason, her beat up face telling me it was nothing good.

I stripped off my suit jacket and tucked it around her shoulders, having no coat, or anything, she had to be freezing. A hesitant smile flitted across her face and I felt like a giant prick for manhandling her so roughly. She was already upset, I hadn’t needed to add to it, to make her feel worse.

“I need help, Ryder. I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice was low, shaky. Lacking the confidence and conceit she normally carried in her words.

The right thing to do was offer comfort, I knew this. Someone in distress needed comfort. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to move any closer or to touch this woman any more than was necessary, and certainly not to soothe her.

“Why come to me?” My pity curled, withered and died when I remembered all the shit that had gone on between us. I tried to keep the bite from my tone and knew I’d failed miserably when she flinched.

“There’s nowhere else.” She sniffled, the noise getting my back up.

“I don’t believe that for a second. You can’t be here. I don’t want you here.” I couldn’t say it any clearer and it wasn’t like it was the first time she’d heard the same from my mouth.

“I need you.”

Stepping back, I moved away, anticipating an escalating situation I wasn’t willing to get dragged into. She was renowned for her antics, her public displays of outrage and whatever else she saw fit to cause a scene for. I wanted no part of it.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

“Go home, Alexa. There’s nothing for you here.”