I stared forward at the boarded up front of the building. I was so closed off to him. I was holding on to every bad feeling I had toward Remi and that was terribly unhealthy.
Deep down I knew I didn't actually hate him. I wanted to despise him; only because it would make things easier. But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to truly hate him, even after all the things he had done to me. Maybe it was because I could feel the genuineness in his voice. I drew in a deep breath as I imagined what the giant storefront windows would look like when the place was finished.
“I’m sure it’ll make a pretty gym.”
It pained me to give him any sort of compliment, but I meant it. For all the pain he had caused me, I still wished him the best. I had finally accepted everything that had happened and I just wanted to let the pain go. In that one statement, I was saying goodbye to my dream and to him. It was refreshing. Just like I had told Remi he couldn’t tie his happiness to someone else, I had to do the same.
“No,” Remi said as his eyes locked onto mine, “it won’t make a pretty gym.”
My face scrunched in confusion as I looked at him for a moment. He looked back at me with the softest smile I had ever seen on him. I quickly turned back to face the building just as some workers were removing the plywood from the front windows. As they took another board off one of the windows an elegant logo was revealed. It was written in cursive and etched into the large, clear windowpane.
It read simply—‘Evelyn’s.’
At once, tears welled up in my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. I took a step forward now that I could clearly see inside. It wasn’t a gym or a big, empty building. It was a restaurant. I cupped my hands and peered through the windows. I could see the main dining room as well as a bar area tucked in a corner. My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. I coughed and that was when I finally remembered to breathe! I took a moment to catch my breath before turning to look at Remi, waiting for answers.
He was already smiling down at me. “It’s yours,” he said softly.
My eyes widened, “What?”
“It’s yours. The building and the restaurant are both yours, as they should have been from the start.”
He took a slow step closer to me. I could see his eyes watering. My eyes searched his for a million different answers. My entire body trembled as I tried to make sense of everything. Remi was an impossible person to figure out.
His smile dropped and panic crossed his face. “Is it not…?”
“No, it’s- it’s wonderful, Remi. It’s more than wonderful, actually.” I said as a tear rolled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.
“Oh,” Remi sighed with relief, “Your face kind of scared me.” He paused and the two of us looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. For everything. You have no idea how awful I’ve been feeling.”
“I have an idea,” I admitted.
“When the realtor called me to say I had gotten the place, I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t excited and I didn’t celebrate.”
How on Earth could I possibly take what he said to be true? Still, something tugged at my heart. There was something deep inside of me that still wanted to hold onto a tiny glimmer of hope I didn’t even know I had.
“Now I know where my true happiness lies. It’s not with my father’s approval, social status, or piles of money. My dad called me and told me he was proud of me for getting the property. He even said I was a good businessman. I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear him say that. But when he did, I still wasn’t happy. The thing I did to finally make him proud was something I hated myself for. The desire to please him made me lose sight of the true happiness I had already found.”
My heart was thumping in my chest. I could see the emotion in his eyes and hear the vulnerability in every word he spoke.
"Evelyn, you're the most amazing person I've ever met. You’re smart, kind and beautiful. You’re gorgeous and interesting, inside and out. I was right to call you out on that spunky attitude of yours, but it’s one of the things that makes you so awesome. That passion of yours that pushes you to fulfill your dreams is something I admire. You make me feel alive, crazy, passionate, happy, and so many other things I can hardly believe it.
“That day Stacy was at the apartment? She just showed up out of the blue and practically threw herself onto me. We had sex months ago, just once, and she's been relentless ever since. I wanted nothing to do with her. The only person on my mind was you. As soon as you stepped into my life, everything changed. Nobody makes me feel the way you do. You make me want to be a man I’ve never been before—a better man. You’ve taught me what matters in life. And what really matters in my life is you.”
Remi stared deep into my watering eyes. I felt the distance between us close. I sucked in another nervous breath as a tear rolled down my cheeks.
“Will you,” his smile grew into his usual big and playful grin, “be my chef… again?”
I beamed with laughter as I wiped away my tears. It was the last thing I imagined him ending his heartwarming speech with, but it was Remi after all. I reached forward and grabbed his arm for balance until my laughter faded.
“Just your chef?” I smiled with tears still in my eyes.
"You have never been just my chef, Evelyn. I love you."
His voice was quiet and sincere. Just as a tear rolled down my cheek he reached up to wipe it away, gazing into my eyes. I leaned into him as he stooped down and pulled me closer.
And right there on the busy city street in front of the restaurant of my dreams…
…I kissed the man of my dreams.
And nothing could have felt more right.
“Order Up!” I yell as I set the dish up on the counter for one of my waiters to come by and pick it up. The smell of the lobster macaroni and cheese drifts up to my nose as I draw in a deep breath. That was the dish that started it all. It felt like yesterday when Remi came walking into the Red Brick Cuisine’s kitchen and plucked me out of that terrible job.
And even though we had a bit of a tenuous relationship at the start, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. ‘Evelyn’s’ has been open for three years now and it couldn’t be doing any better! Some nights it gets so busy I wonder if I’ll have to hire more staff. I must say though; I’m impressed with myself for how well I manage to get around the kitchen, even with my pregnant belly starting to show.
“Evelyn, table twelve wants an extra plate of stuffed mushrooms. Can you get it out in time?” One of my waitresses says as she pokes her head into the kitchen.
“Of course!” I smile back as I go to work, motivating my kitchen staff like I loved doing when I started my career as a chef.
It’s times like this that make me think back to how different my life is now. Remi and I got married a couple years after I opened the restaurant. It was a beautiful, but small wedding. I always pictured a guy like Remi wanting a big extravagant party when we tied the knot, but he said he was done with that lifestyle. He wanted to settle down and start a family. And that’s exactly what we did. Although, I wouldn’t call bustling about a busy kitchen while pregnant exactly ‘settling down.’
He still stays busy with his gyms and other business ventures while I remain tied up with the restaurant. He talks to his father from time to time, but he keeps his dad at a distance. I’m not sure what Remi would say, but I think their relationship has gotten better.
It feels like yesterday when I was cursing myself for jumping into Remi’s bed with him. I thought it was the worst mistake I had ever made in my life. Now I know it was the best ‘mistake’ I had ever made.
I couldn’t imagine my life with anybody else.
The End
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Table of Contents
I leaned back in the mesh chair and lo
oked around my brand new office. My mouth fell open in a yawn as I reached up to readjust my headband. I put it on that morning in an attempt to tame my wild curls. Like so many other things in my life, it didn’t seem to work.
I sat up and opened the appointment book sitting on my desk, only to find a client was scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes. I let out a small gasp and shot straight up out of the chair. How did I forget about the appointment? It wasn’t like I had that many to keep track of.
I placed a hand flat on my chest and the other on my stomach. My chest expanded as I inhaled deep and then exhaled slowly. I needed to get a hold of my nerves. I opened my eyes to look around the new place. It still smelled like fresh paint. It was so fresh in fact I’d occasionally find some had dripped in my hair when I took showers at the end of the day.
I loved the scent of fresh paint even more than how smooth and inviting the pale blue walls looked. Maybe I was a weirdo for that.
I sat down again and leaned back in my chair. After all, the client wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes and everything was ready to go. It had been ready to go a few minutes after I had arrived at the office. I always wanted to be prepared before anything else. I took a deep breath as if to brace myself and tried to take a sip of the homemade kombucha tea my best friend, Shellsea, gave me.
The moment it hit my taste buds I wrinkled my nose and covered my mouth, willing myself not to spit it out for its awful taste. I forced it down my throat and hurled a loud coughing breath.
“Gosh, it's like it’s already been digested.” I mumbled as I drew it away from my face to take a look at it.
I stared at the somewhat murky liquid, trying to recall all the reasons it was good for me. Shellsea had prattled them off when she packaged it up for me. I tried my best to convince myself that it was indeed good for me. But considering how it looked and how it tasted, it was a tough sell. Shellsea’s little speech on the benefits of drinking something so allegedly wondrous was rapidly becoming less convincing. I was quickly developing and aversion to the stuff.
And it only took a couple sips.
“Ugh,” I muttered, holding up the glass and peering at it against the light. I shut my eyes and shook my head. “Come on, get it together. It’ll be good… in the long run.”
I had just closed my lips around the rim of the glass to brave another sip when there was a knock at the door. I set the glass down, said a few silent prayers for not having to taste anymore, and stood up slowly. It had to be the client at the door.
“Come in,” I called out after clearing my throat of the murky wretchedness clinging to the back of my mouth. I immediately regretted not walking up to the door and actually opening it to greet my one and only client of the day. I briefly scolded myself inside my head. I was still getting used to the whole “being your own boss” thing.
The door opened and in stepped a tall, Greek god of an athlete. My jaw dropped and my eyes stared; or rather gobbled him up. I opened my mouth to greet him, but as he neared me I was struck with an instant case of mutism. He had a distractingly handsome face. He was easily taller than six feet, had light brown hair and golden tanned skin that made his hazel eyes look absolutely gorgeous.
His thin lips curled into a smile, or more like a smirk. I quickly came to my senses; he had probably already caught on that I found him drop-dead-gorgeous and it was definitely not a professional way to start the appointment. I gratefully pushed my tea to the side behind the small potted plant on my desk. I’d much rather deal with him than any more of Satan’s toilet water.
I smiled widely.
“Welcome,” I said in a soft and pleasant voice. “You’re right on time.” I took the opportunity to covertly peer over at my appointment book to double check his name before directing him to the massage table in the small room next to the office.
He nodded and strutted over, making me wonder if he always walked that way or if he was doing it just to give me a little show. Either way, I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy watching the swing of his broad shoulders and the view of his tight-toned ass. He was definitely an athlete who had lucked out to have such a distractingly handsome face. I walked up to the room and closed the door behind him, giving privacy for him to disrobe and climb onto the massage table.
After a few minutes I knocked and he murmured, “Come in.”
He already sounded rather relaxed, which would make my job a bit easier save for the fact that my mind was already running wild with thoughts of how his exposed muscles would look. Hand still on the doorknob ready to twist, I took a moment to indulge in a bit of fantasy.
Maybe if I get it out of my system it’ll be easier. I thought before drifting off into a dreamland, envisioning his golden tanned body shining under the lights of the massage room. His thick plates of muscles would be more alluring than they already had been hidden by his T-shirt.
I already knew what it would be like to sink my hands into those corded shoulders. I’ve already worked with plenty of athletes before, but that didn’t mean I didn’t crave to feel his muscles. My breath skipped as I thought about my fingers digging into those taut buttocks and kneading the muscular flesh. My pulse started to rise in spite of my need to be professional.
My eyes shot open and I made note of another mental reminder; it was far too important to be professional than to ruin anything by running away with this little fantasy of mine. It could quickly go from harmless to harmful and that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. Job and career before fantasies—always.
Still, I gulped.
I finally twisted the knob and pushed the door open only to see him splayed out on my table, face up. I took in a deep breath, forcing calm and restraint through my system. That wasn’t how I expected to find him, but it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary either. I spritzed some massage oil on my hands and rubbed them together before stepping forward, “Shall we begin?”
“Go for it,” he muttered coolly.
As I started to work, running my hands over his body, he let out soft groans of pleasure. It was a sound so sensual I didn’t quite know how to deal with it. I was unable to ignore it and my chest started to pound. In spite of myself, my gaze trailed down to the area of his body covered with a sheet. I quickly checked to make sure his eyes were closed as he enjoyed my touch on his sore muscles.
Then my nervous breath stopped altogether.
I saw the sheet draped over his manhood start to rise. A lump lodged in my throat. I bit my bottom lip, unable to tear my gaze off the very sizeable tent that was starting to be pitched. I stared for a moment longer before another soft groan pulled me back to my senses, at least enough to look away from his covered but obviously hardening self. I turned to watch his face relax. His lips parted in a sigh of contentment under my capable hands. I finally exhaled, feeling my spirit lift a bit.
I was getting into the groove of it, finding a way to enjoy the sensuous sounds coming from him while still remaining (mostly) professional.
Then it hit me.
The most god-awful wretched gurgling sound I had ever heard emanated from my stomach—enough to make my client open his eyes and look at me with scrunched eyebrows.
The kombucha!
I tried to breathe normally even though my stomach felt like it was being squeezed through a vice. Normal was the last thing I was capable of being. The horrific chaos the kombucha was inflicting on my poor innards was too much to handle.
This was urgent.
I placed my hands on his arm, “I’ll be just one moment…”
It was all the dignity I could muster before darting out of the room with clenched butt cheeks.
______________________________
"So no, thank you though. I really don't want any more kombucha."
I was sitting at an all-natural juice bar with Shellsea. She tossed her pretty long blond hair over her shoulder before staring off into the distance for several moments. I could tell she was cooking up something in her head. What persuasive an
ecdote or lecture was she coming up with now? So I started to clear my mind and prepare myself to say NO to whatever Shellsea was coming up with next. After that horribly embarrassing experience, I certainly wasn’t in any rush to have any more kombucha tea.
“I’ve figured it out,” she said slowly, still staring off into space. Shellsea’s stunning green eyes looked back at me like she had just come up with a brilliant idea. “Your gut environment must be too acidic!”
“And just what the hell does that mean?” I felt oddly defensive. My gut environment was too acidic? Nonsense. My gut environment was just fine.
Actually I had no idea what she was talking about.
“It means you need to introduce more basic elements into your diet,” Shellsea said flatly.
Just Sex Page 27
