Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)(21)
She raised a brow. Without addressing his remark, she glanced around. Her gaze stopped on the half-finished 3-D puzzle of Notre-Dame Cathedral residing on his coffee table. “Three-D now?”
He’d loved jigsaw puzzles—every kind of puzzle, really—for as long as he could remember. He wondered if she remembered sending him a personalized jigsaw puzzle she’d had made from a photograph of Une Bouchée as a congratulatory gift when he’d earned the James Beard Award. “Keeps me out of trouble.”
“Oh, yes. You were always such a radical,” she joked. Following another assessing look around, she asked, “How long have you been living here?”
“Almost two months.”
“No photos anywhere? Nothing on the walls.” She tilted her head. “Unsure of whether or not you’d be staying?”
He gulped down his prosecco. He was going to need more of it to get through the evening. “Yes.”
“Why?”
How to answer that complicated question? “Lots of ghosts.”
Probably not the reply to toss offhandedly at a woman whose husband had killed himself. Dammit, she made him nervous, and he’d always been stupid whenever he’d been nervous.
Colby peered into her glass at the flower surrounded by golden bubbles. “What changed your mind?”
Alec leaned against the counter. “My mother, and Hunter. When I took off after losing everything, it broke my mom’s heart all over. I came back for her but didn’t have the money to start another restaurant. My former colleagues had lost faith in me, so my options were limited. Then Hunter called. I took it as a sign.”
He watched her while she carefully constructed another crostino. She closed her eyes when she bit into it, then finished it off with a sip of her drink. After swallowing, she opened her eyes. “So you plan to use A CertainTea to prove everyone wrong. To reclaim what you lost.”
Alec didn’t want to discuss his motives, especially the more personal ones. None of them undermined his earnest belief that following his lead would be her best shot at making A CertainTea a wildly popular restaurant.
“That doesn’t mean our goals conflict.” Alec gestured toward the table, sidestepping her question. He couldn’t tell her that handing her her dream was one of his goals, because that would raise questions he didn’t want to answer. “Take a seat and I’ll join you in a minute.”
While she seated herself, Alec ladled white gazpacho into two bowls. After drizzling them with his secret emerald-green oil and adding sliced almonds, he garnished each bowl with lavender blossoms. He looked toward the dining table, where Colby sat, looking perfectly at home. Oddly, it seemed to him the most natural thing in the world to have her there. To cook for her. To serve her. To just look upon her made him happier than he’d been in years.
He carried the bowls to the table and set one in front of her. “Voilà.”
“It’s gorgeous, but it’s . . . green.” She sniffed twice, trying to discern the soup base.
Green. Such a boring, meaningless word. The pale soup—veering toward white—would be better described as pistachio. It glowed, evoking a sense of renewal. Something he suspected they both were seeking, if for different reasons. “White gazpacho.”
An approving grin appeared. “And these flowers are edible, too?”
“Lavender. Yes.”
He watched her face as she sampled her first spoonful, and waited. Waited for the delighted, surprised look that would light her eyes. When it came, his chest expanded with victory.
“Yum!” She smacked her lips together.
Yum, indeed. He snickered. “Not the praise I’m used to, but it’ll do.”
“Well, I’m no Michelin Guide critic. Yum is as good as it gets.” She laughed then and raised her glass. “The tulips are a nice touch, Alec. I’m sensing a theme here with all the flowers.”
“Bonus points for keen observation, Ms. Cabot-Baxter.” If Alec weren’t acutely aware of everything about Colby, he might’ve missed the brief moment of tension in her shoulders when he’d mentioned her married name. “Finish up, there’s more to come.”
“My mom will be so jealous.” Colby spooned another mouthful. “Just today she was reminiscing about the fruit tarts you used to bring her.”
“I’ll bring her a little takeout box when I see my mother tomorrow night.”
“She’d love that.” Colby’s grateful smile melted him, like always.
“Perhaps I can help you fill that so-called black hole of neediness, since your brother won’t.” He wouldn’t ask why Colby didn’t prod Hunter for more help. She’d always been the caretaker in that family. He suspected it had been some time since anyone had taken care of her. A role he’d happily adopt through placating her mom.