Page 45

“It’s not acceptable,” Jacques seethes.

I bite my cheek to bring myself back to the present, hard enough to send a spasm of pain through me, effectively knocking me out of the dangerously warm glow I’d fallen into.

I focus on Jacques, who’s pacing the tiny space between my desk and the little love seat on the back wall.

I sigh, patting my chest with a napkin from my half-eaten lunch I was trying to scarf down while perusing California real estate.

But I can feel that the T-shirt underneath my button-down is soaked too and I groan inwardly. I desperately want to change. I know Jacques would be more likely to critique my muffin top than care about seeing me in my sports bra, but it’s still not exactly professional for me to whip off my shirt in the same room as him.

I pull out the drawer I keep my spare shirts in.

“Dammit,” I curse under my breath.

“Exactly,” Jacques says.

“No, my drawer is empty,” I say, remembering I changed into my spare one for the show yesterday when I found a missing button on the one I’d come in wearing. “Never mind. What are you upset about?”

“I told you—disarray!”

“You’ll have to give me a bit more context, Jacques.” I don’t bother keeping the exhaustion out of my voice, knowing I’m going to be sitting in a wet shirt until I can get Jacques to calm down.

“The walk-in, it is in disarray! The onions—they’ve been moved, and thatchildhas stolen my knife!”

I’ve learned that I need to let Jacques have his requisite complaining time—he needs to get stuff out of his head before I can get new information in. I also know I need to time his unloading so it doesn’t spin off, so I pick up my phone, hoping it’s finally charged.

It has. And there’s another text message from Eli on the screen.

My stomach does a little somersault. I pinch my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling, knowing that will only make Jacques explode.

Then I turn the phone upside down to avoid me staring.

Eli and I haven’t seen each other in the days since the completely illegal kiss—at least, not up close. He came down yesterday morning with Cassandra to be interviewed for the show, and I watched him from the other side of the camera, laughing along with him and his twin’s back and forth. For all their bickering, I know they care about each other deeply. Anyone would know that just looking at the way they listen to each other, build off of what their sibling says instead of knocking it down. All the Kelly family is like that, and it makes something in my heart ache. Part of it is missing my own siblings. But part of it is thinking about Shannon Kelly, Eli’s mom. A woman I never even knew. Eli told me back when we were in New York and his mom had just passed that it had been her dream to have her kids take over the hotel. That she’d even written it into her will. And here it was, her dream come true.

Her not here to see it.

It all felt so tragic, having your dreams come true when you’re already gone. Like a painter who becomes famous after they die.

At least she got to have the family she wanted.

I look up at the picture of my sister and her family now, a familiar ache of love and longing in my chest knowing children aren’t in the cards for me. I always wanted kids, but my ex—the one before Eli, who I’d been tangled up in for years—looked revulsed every time the topic came up. He had me convinced my life would be better without them. After we split up for the last time and I reconnected with Michelle—who I realized Simon had effectively kept me from by putting up a stink every time I wanted to visit them, and never wanting them to stay with us—I fell in love with my nieces all over again. I miss them terribly.

The person I fell for after Simon was Eli, and that went nowhere.

My eyes go back to my phone.

Jacques gasps, bringing my attention back to him. “Are you even listening, Reese?” He’s looking at my hand, reaching for my phone.

“Yes. You’re disgusted with Marcel. You can’t stand how he leaves things lying around and doesn’t appreciate the flow of your kitchen.” I’m impressed with how much I retained while my mind wandered.

“I did not say that.”

I blink. Maybe I shouldn’t be impressed. “I heard—”

“Disgust. I did not say I was disgusted by him.”

Jacques is insulted. No…I squint. My lips turn up as I realize what’s really going on.

“Jacques, youlikehim.”