“I took a walk to Taste of Tokyo, was feeling sushi tonight. You still at work?” I ask.
“Unfortunately. There are some contracts I need to look over.”
Approaching the hostess, I order a spicy tuna roll to go. I sit to wait, but I’m still creeped out. I don’t often get these feelings, but when I do, I’m usually right. Talking to Chase helps, but I’d rather he were here with me. “You working late sucks,” I complain as I stare at the counter, willing my food to appear.
“I’d do it every night if it meant getting to spend more weekends away with you,” he breathes.
“We don’t need to go anywhere, I like staying home.” I peek out the glass doors, still searching for something.
“I love that too.”
“Chase—” I start, but change my mind.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Nothing. You should get back to work. Don’t work too hard, though.”
“I’ll try not to,” he teases. “I love you.”
“Goodnight,” I sigh, hanging up. Glancing up at the counter, I’m happy to find my food is waiting for me. Paying the hostess on my way out, I retrace my steps back to my apartment. A light breeze tickles my skin, and there it is again; that feeling someone’s watching me. I sprint the rest of the way back to my apartment, not wanting to know if my instincts are correct or not.
Thursday night I get home from work and have just enough time to change before I need to leave. Originally, I had planned on Chase coming over to help me relax, but he had called me mid-afternoon and asked me to meet him at his place, instead. Throwing on a pair of sweats and my Stony Brook hoodie, I run out the door.
Exiting the elevator, I reach for my key. After we got back from Key West, he insisted I take another copy, making me promise not to throw it into oncoming traffic. “Chase?” I call out, not wanting to startle him as I open the door. He doesn’t answer, prompting me to go looking for him.
I find Chase in the kitchen and he pulls me into an embrace before I can blink. “Hello, beautiful,” he purrs, kissing me on the top of my head. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” Instead of answering, he walks toward the kitchen, pulling me behind him.
“I’m going to teach you how to make Steak Au Poivre,” he announces, pointing toward an array of Whole Food’s bags on the counter. I look at him and force a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Chase takes one good look at me and bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, offended.
“You.” He smiles, shaking his head. I stare at the bags, dumfounded. “Help me empty these?” He motions to the rest of the bags. Relenting, I help pull the items trapped in the paper bags and place them on the countertop.
“What possessed you to teach me how to cook?”
“I made a promise I intend to keep.” Ah, yes. Davis.
“That’s not fair! I just said yes because you had me caught in your sexual thrall.”
“Sexual thrall?” He rolls the words off his tongue, throwing them back at me, his lips twitching.
“Yes. There was no way I could have said no to anything you said.”
“Is that so?” he murmurs as he stalks toward me. “What about now?” He sidles up behind me, his lips brushing against the back of my neck, causing the tiny hairs to stand on end. “Could you say no to me now?” he rasps, his warm breath caressing my shoulder, causing me to shudder.
“Yes,” I breathe without conviction. He isn’t playing fair.
“Are you sure?” he asks, nipping the nape of my neck.
“Maybe,” I whisper. God, the things this man does to me.
He spins me around so I’m staring into his cobalt blue eyes. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against mine. “Good,” he murmurs. “Just checking.” With that, he releases me and heads back toward the counter. Closing my eyes, I release the breath I was holding. “Now, back to my lesson.”
“Fine. What do you need me to do?” I ask, resigned.
“Just watch and learn.” Placing a cast iron skillet on the gas range, he turns on the heat. “See that plate over there?” He motions his head toward the counter. I nod. “Coat it with crushed pepper.” Doing as he says, the plate is now covered in pepper. “Okay. Lightly salt the steaks, then place them, one at a time, in the pepper until they are coated, then flip and repeat.” Taking the tongs Chase hands me, I flip the steaks on at a time. “Bring them over here, please.”
I walk the plate over to where Chase has the hot skillet waiting and place the two steaks in the pan one at a time. “So, now what?”
“How do you like your steak cooked?”
“Medium rare. You?”
“Medium, but depends on the steak,” he answers, his eyes twinkling. “For a medium rare steak, they need to be cooked four minutes on each side.”
Once finished, he places them on a plate, which he then tents with foil. “What’s next?” I ask.
“Now, we make the sauce,” he says, reaching behind him for what looks like miniature onions. He minces them and tosses them around in the pan, coating them with the fats from the steak.
“What were those?” I ask.
“Shallots,” he answers. Placing a pat of butter, he stirs the pan. “Hand me that bottle of brandy, please?” he asks, pointing behind me. I hand Chase the bottle and he pours it into the hot pan before pulling out a match and lighting the brandy on fire. I jump back, ready for the kitchen to go up in flames. Turning to me, he bursts out laughing, but I don’t see the humor in the situation. His pan is on fire. “Scared you, did I?” he asks, a huge smile still on his face as he turns off the heat.
“What the hell was that?”
“You’ve never seen anyone do that?”
“No,” I mutter. He’s still chuckling. “It’s called ‘deglazing the pan’. Also, by setting fire to the brandy, you are cooking off the alcohol, but leaving the flavor.” Now I feel stupid. Turning to the refrigerator, he pulls out a container of heavy cream and pours it into the pan. “I’m going to turn the heat back on now, it’s called ‘reducing’,” he says in his teacher voice.
After the sauce starts to thicken, Chase splashes more brandy into the pan and dips his finger in to taste. Nodding his head, he’s satisfied. “Wait, that’s it?”
“Yup, easy right?” Wow. I thought for sure it would be way more complicated.
Chase pulls two dishes out of the warming drawer, one filled with mashed potatoes and another with broccoli. Scooping the sides onto dinner plates, he takes the steaks from out of the foil and positions them over the potatoes before drizzling some au Poivre sauce over the steak.
“Mmm, it smells amazing.”
“Take a seat at the island, I’ll get some silverware.” Placing the plates on the counter, he reaches over to get us silverware as I pour us each a glass of Syrah from the decanter on the table. Chase takes a seat next to me, handing me my eating utensils.
“So, do you think you could make this again?” he asks.
“Yes, seems pretty straight forward,” I say, smiling. Cutting into my steak, it is cooked perfectly. It tastes as good as it looks, and the Syrah goes perfectly with the meal.
“Good. As much as I love going to dinner, I love intimate meals at home so much more.” His words are soft and seductive. Yes, this is much better than being crammed into a busy restaurant.
“Me, too. I’m honestly looking forward to more lessons.” That makes Chase smile.
“I am happy to oblige.”
After dinner, we both relax on the couch, too stuffed to move. I snuggle into Chase’s side, his arm around my back. Besides the amazing sex, this is the part of our relationship I love; that feeling of being comfortable, just relaxing in each other’s company and not being compelled to say a single word. Picking up the remote, we settle in to watching one of my favorite shows.
As soon as I get home from work Friday evening, Chase is already waiting for me. I jump in the shower and change quickly. Once I’ve made myself pr
esentable, he leads me out the door toward his building. Tonight, I meet his mother.
Every time Chase speaks of her, his eyes light up, and it’s endearing to see the love he has for her. He’s promised his mother is nothing like his stepmother, but I can’t help but be nervous. She’s been dying to meet me ever since she found out I had dinner with his dad, which was before I almost married Evan. I kept putting the meeting off, claiming I was too tired after work, but Chase has been insistent, so I relented. I push my anxiety aside, resolving to look at her without judgment.
Walking into Chase’s building, we take the elevator up to a few floors beneath Chase’s apartment. After unlocking the door, he holds it open, motioning for me to enter first. Shocked by the huge open-floor plan, I stop in my tracks and stare, wide-eyed. Being that it’s in the same building, I expected her apartment to be identical to Chase’s, but it’s easily three times the size. Catching me gaping, Chase chuckles. “This apartment takes up half of this floor. She bought four apartments and had them made into one larger one.”
“Why would she do that, who needs this much space?” I ask, still gaping.
“What better way to spend my father’s money,” he quips.
As I stand in the center room on a large Persian rug, directly above me is a sprawling Baccarat crystal chandelier. The apartment is tastefully decorated; enough furniture to look lived in, but not too much to look cluttered. Directly to the right is the formal living room, to the left is the gourmet kitchen. Chase leads me past both toward the back of the apartment. Here, the dining area is to the left off the kitchen, and another living area on the right, less formal than the living room. It appears to be more of a family room with the large flat screen TV over a fireplace.
“Mom, we’re here,” Chase calls out.
“Be right there,” she answers from somewhere near the back of the apartment.
Mrs. Remington walks out from a hidden doorway next to the bathroom right in front of me, fussing with her hair. “Chase, sweetie! I’ve missed you,” she coos, giving him a great big hug. She is so small compared to Chase; it’s like a kitten hugging a grizzly bear.
He kisses the top of her head, much like he does with me. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Olivia. Olivia, this is my mother, Claire.”
She walks toward me, pulling me into an embrace. “It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”
“Likewise,” I murmur, shocked at her familiarity.
Releasing me, she turns back to Chase. “So, what took you so long to bring her over here?” she scolds Chase, smiling ear to ear.
“It’s my fault, Mrs. Remington. My work schedule wouldn’t allow it,” I cut in, feeling the need to cover for Chase.
“Nonsense, and please, call me Claire. Mrs. Remington is my ex-husband’s mother,” she says. “If I hadn’t been married to Chase’s father for so long, I would have changed my name back to Windsor, but Remington is the name attached to my charities.”
“Mom is still a little bitter,” Chase whispers.
“No, I’m past the bitter stage. It is what it is. Besides, I have two amazing sons that came out of my marriage. I wouldn’t change a thing.” She smiles at Chase, a radiant, I-love-my-son smile. Shifting her attention, she says, “Come, let’s go sit in the living room and chat. I want to learn all about Olivia.” Claire turns toward the family room and motions for us to sit as she takes her place on the sofa. Chase and I both sit on the loveseat, and he immediately puts his arm around my shoulders.
“So, Olivia, Chase hasn’t given me too many intricate details. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
“My mom was a teacher, my father a city cop. He was diagnosed with cancer and passed away while I was in high school, almost eight years ago.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” I can tell the difference between pity and compassion, and this is definitely the latter.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “It was hard, but every day it gets a little easier.” She nods her head. “I grew up in Bohemia.”
“I love Bohemia! Such a pretty town.”
“After high school, I went to Stony Brook.” She shakes her head.
“I wish my boys would have gone to a SUNY school. Harvard is way too stuffy. But, that’s where their father went.” Her snide comment doesn’t go unnoticed. Chase shakes his head, but his lips twist up into a smile.
Smiling, I continue, “I graduated with my bachelors in Biology and my masters in Marine and Atmospheric Science. I work for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.”
“That’s fantastic,” she beams. “My, Chase, she might be smarter than you.” Chase looks at Claire and his lips quirk up as he rolls his eyes, making me giggle.
“Chase is super smart,” I quip.
“Yes, he is. He was smart enough to find you.” Chase is now smiling ear to ear, and I flush from the compliment. “Now, what has my dear son told you about me?”
“Not much, really,” I admit.
“Well, I grew up in Sagaponack. To be honest, I thought all of those North Shore people were a bit snobby,” she says with a chuckle. I would have never pictured her as a South Shore girl, but Sagaponack is in the Hamptons. “I met Chase’s father when I was twenty while spending the summer at the Southampton Beach and Tennis Club. His family owned a summer home nearby, which the boys still go to occasionally. I couldn’t stand him at first, but he was persistent. Eventually, he wore me down. Once I gave him a chance, I knew he was the one for me.” That sounds awfully close to what happened with Chase and me.
“That’s so sweet,” I murmur, looking at Chase. He shoots me a smug smile, knowing I’m comparing the two relationships.
“We had Chase, and then Preston. Things were fantastic for a long time, but then it wasn’t. There is no one else to blame but Chase’s father and me.”
“No, it was all dad’s fault, and that whore he calls a wife,” Chase cuts in.
“Don’t talk negatively about your father. I taught you better than that,” Claire scolds.
“Sorry, but if it weren’t for her—”
“I don’t want to hear it. There is no proof Tiffani was in the picture while we were together.” Chase huffs his disapproval, his body tensing.
“Anyway,” Claire continues, “the past is in the past. I am happy with my life, both past and present.” She turns to look directly at me. “And, I’m happy Chase was able to find someone amazing like you.” The tension in Chase’s body slowly fades, his scowl turning into a bona-fide smile.
“Don’t scare her off, mom,” Chase teases.
“So, enough about me. Who’s hungry?” Claire stands and leads us into the dining room where the table is already set, the finest of everything on display.
“Chase told me you like French food. He also told me he gave you a cooking lesson in French food last night. So, rather than bore you, I have something else in store.”
“Whatever we’re having, I’m sure it will be delicious,” I say to Claire.
“Come, sit down.” As I sit, a lovely classical piece begins to play in the background.
“What’s playing?” I ask Chase. He listens intently for a minute, then murmurs, “Sounds like Debussy’s Clair de lune, but I’m not certain.”
“Chase is correct. I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your good taste in music,” Claire calls from the kitchen. Chase rolls his eyes again, causing me to giggle. It’s refreshing to see how they play off each other.
“I was forced to listen to this as a child,” he teases.
“I kind of like it,” I tease back. He shakes his head and chuckles lightly.
“Chase told me you like white, I hope this is okay,” Clair says as she comes in from the kitchen, placing a bottle of 2001 Villa Maria Clifford Bay Reserve Sauvignon Blanc on the table.
“Yes, I love sauvignon blancs. Especially New Zealand wines. They have such a smooth finish.”
“Good,” she says, reaching behind her for wine glasses a
nd pouring one for each of us. “Dinner is just about ready,” she says as she makes her way back to the kitchen.
“Do you need any help?” I call after her.
“No, thank you. Just relax.”
As we wait, the music changes and the volume increases slightly. No longer are classical tunes playing throughout the apartment, but something more familiar. Chase glances over at me, smiling.
“I didn’t want to hear Chase whining throughout dinner, so I changed the music,” Claire mocks as she carries in a large casserole dish, placing it on the table.
“Lobster Mac-and-cheese!” I exclaim with joy. “The dish reminds me of when Chase took me to Bobby Van’s.” Chase smiles knowingly.
“I hope it lives up to your expectations,” Claire teases again.
“Looks fantastic, Mom,” Chase says chuckling, glancing over at me.
I am so full, I feel like I may burst. Not only did I have seconds, I contemplated having thirds. It was so good, Chase might have to push me out of here in a wheel barrel. As we say our goodbyes, Claire gives me a hug and Chase bends down so she can kiss him.
“Dinner was amazing, thank you again,” I say to Claire.
“Please, come back anytime. My door is always open.” With that, Chase and I head back to his apartment, where I intend to work off all the calories I ingested this evening.
After a weekend of surviving on takeout and lounging around Chase’s apartment binge watching seasons of our favorite shows, I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks. Chase tried to talk me into leaving clothes at his apartment, but I’m just not sure I’m ready to take that step in our relationship. I like where we are right now, like how comfortable and content we are, and I don’t want to take that away by moving too fast.
Work came too soon this morning and I realized just how out of routine I’ve been since getting back together with Chase. Between the traveling and staying at his apartment more frequently, I don’t feel like I’ve been to a grocery store in months. So, after work, I stop at the local Whole Foods to pick up some necessities.
Lost Without You: Book 2 in the Chasing Olivia Series Page 13
