Page 73 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter One

Desmond

M arco pulls into a curved section of the parking lot, stopping in front of a valet stand where two men hurry to open our doors and take over from there.

My jaw drops in complete awe. “How did you get reservations for this place? I heard they were booked for a year.”

Marco pats my thigh with a shit-eating grin on his face. “There’s always a way, lover. Did you forget who my employer is?”

I scoff before nodding and saying thank you to the man holding my door open for me. “How could I? He’s got those kind of connections, huh?”

Marco joins me on the sidewalk, sliding his arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. “He’s one of the most powerful businessmen in New Onyx. He can get whatever he wants. In this case, he can get me the hottest reservation in town for my baby’s birthday.”

“He’s a total ass, but for tonight, I’ll forget about how hard he works you.”

Marco grins. “Come on, lover. We have a celebration to get to.”

Two more men open the heavy glass doors as we approach the entrance to Entrée, the newest and hottest eatery in the city. As an aspiring foodie, I’ve been salivating over online menus of nouveau French cuisine and reviews, wondering how long it would take to get in. It’s also wicked expensive, but I won’t even bother asking Marco how he’s paying for this. He figured it out. He always does.

The lobby is dimly lit and moody, with velvet seating, marble floors, and an ornate crystal chandelier hanging above us. Two people stand behind the host stand dressed in black turtlenecks and black pants, with slicked-back hair. One of the people, male in appearance, is striking, with white-blond hair, sharp features, and full, lacquered red lips. He gazes at us with gray eyes, as if deciding whether we’re worthy of being in his presence.

“May I help you?” he asks in a deep voice.

“We have a reservation,” Marco says. “Scarpelli.”

The angelic but slightly terrifying host refers to his tablet, tapping with long, pointy fingernails before nodding. “Scarpelli for two.” He gazes up at us again, offering just the hint of a smile. “Right this way.”

We follow the lithe man as he slinks through the space, balancing on impossibly high stilettos and swaying his hips with every step. Not my type, but he must be kryptonite to anyone who’s into his vibe.

Marco squeezes my hand, winking at me as we follow the host to a table near the back of the restaurant. The entire room is so swanky I almost feel out of place, but that awkwardness is overridden by my excitement over getting to taste the food.

Our table is up against the glass walls, so the ocean is visible and so is the boulevard, filled with people strolling by on evening walks. It feels a little tacky to be on display like this, almost like we’re bragging that we can eat here and they can’t. I’m not used to living like a rich person. Maybe actual rich people don’t even think about things like that.

“Sir?”

I snap out of my thoughts and look at our host, who is gesturing impatiently to my chair.

“Thanks.” I sit, scooting in and hoping I come across normal, but I’m pretty sure the diva is aware that this isn’t my usual dining fare.

“The chef will be out shortly to go over our specials for the evening,” the host says before turning on his heel and sashaying away.

Marco nearly chokes on his laughter. “Someone’s full of themselves. I heard this place was posh, but that barely touches it.”

I tug on the collar of my shirt. “I feel out of place.”

“Well, you’re not. You belong here as much as anyone. Money spends the same, right?”

Nodding, I reach across the table for his hand. “Thank you for making this happen.”

“You deserve it, babe. You busted your ass these last three months at the hospital, and now this weekend, I’m spoiling you rotten.”

“The whole weekend?”

“The whole weekend. Whatever you want, it’s yours. It’s a husband’s job to take care of his man.”

“You do good work. I appreciate you so much.”

“I love you, Des. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am.”

A woman wearing a sleek black dress approaches our table with a bottle in her hands. Her blond hair is slicked back in a tight bun, and I’m starting to pick up on the aesthetic. She doesn’t smile but her expression softens somewhat.

“Good evening, gentleman. I understand we have a special occasion.”

Marco’s smile lights up his face. “We do. My husband’s birthday.”

The woman bows her head slightly. “Happy birthday. Please accept the complimentary champagne.”

“Oh wow,” I whisper as she expertly pops the cork and fills our glasses before setting the bottle in an ice bucket and walking off. “A whole bottle of champagne?”

Marco nods. “Brent had his assistant call for the reservation and tell them it was a special occasion for a deserving employee. I practically owe him my ass now, but it’s worth it.”

I chuckle, lifting my glass. “There are worse sacrifices.”

Marco laughs softly. “Very true.” He clinks our glasses. “To our wildest dreams coming true.”

“Together.”

“Always together.”

I sip the champagne, scrunching my nose as the bubbles tickle up past my mustache. This is way fancier than me or Marco ever act. We’re beer and burgers guys. He loves his pizza and I love my wings. We’re football and horror movie kind of men. But ever since I showed an interest in expanding my horizons, Marco has been a hundred percent on board, just like he is with all my whims. Last year, he supported me through my new woodworking hobby, which died off after three months. Then there was the hiking fetish I developed after I watched a documentary about nature and wanted to learn about what New Onyx and the surrounding areas had to offer. He’s been by my side for all my short-lived hobbies and I love him even more for it.

Marco leans back in his seat, stroking his thick black beard. It’s his tell when he has something on his mind that he’s keeping in.

“What’s up, love?”

He shifts his honey-brown eyes to me, smiling and revealing his perfectly white teeth. I’ve always loved the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“Nothing, babe. I was just taking it all in.”

“Liar,” I tease.

He nods, sitting forward and folding his hands on the table. “I guess I was thinking about Liam again. It’s been three years.”

I was not expecting that reply. “Liam? Why is he on your mind?”

Marco gestures around the room. “Isn’t this the type of place he always wanted?”

“Yeah.” I nod, rubbing my chest. It always tightens up when we talk about Liam. “He would’ve loved it, but you know he’s off chasing his dreams. Dreams we weren’t part of.”

Marco reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “He loved us, Des. I know he did, and I believe our paths will cross again someday. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“Sure, but he doesn’t even keep in touch. I doubt he thinks about us anymore.”

“Or…” Marco tilts his head. “It was just too hard. I know all too well the tension between love and ambition. We both know it. We can’t be mad that he went after his goals.”

“I’m not. I don’t hold that against him at all. He would’ve resented us if he’d stayed.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish I knew where he is. What he’s doing. If he’s okay. I hope he knows I’m not mad at him. I can’t bring myself to look at his socials though.”

“I hope he knows we’d take him back. We would, right?”

“What difference does that make?” I shake my head as frustration and longing tugs at my chest. “We shouldn’t even entertain thoughts like that, babe. It’ll just make it hurt more.”

“I don’t agree. I think we need to tell the universe what we want. I know you love me with all your heart, and you know I feel the same about you.”

I nod. “Of course. You’re the best.”

“And we both know that Liam still has space in both our hearts. I’ve never stopped loving him and I know you haven’t either. Everyone we’ve met since him…”

He doesn’t have to finish that sentence. It’s been a disaster.

“We’ve been chasing a ghost, haven’t we?”

Marco nods. “’Fraid so. We have big hearts and we crave that feeling of fullness and completeness Liam gave us.”

I shrug. “So what do we do now?”

“We could—” Marco pauses as another server comes to our table, delivering two plates with a tiny bit of food on them.

I mean I-don’t-even-know-what-it-is tiny.

“An amuse-bouche,” the server says. “Seared scallop with lemon gremolata.”

“Thank you,” Marco says as I simply nod.

The food is sitting on a black spoon, so I pick it up and scoop the whole bite into my mouth. The flavors of citrus and fresh herbs with just a hint of spice explode on my tongue.

“Whoa,” Marco says, finishing his bite. “Amazing.”

“So good.” I drink some champagne, wishing I had one more bite of that. “What were you saying?”

“I guess I just want to know if we’re still on the same page.”

“About what? Adding a third?”

“No.” Marco shakes his head. “About Liam.”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know why it matters. He’s gone, Marco.”

“I know that, but what if…” He leans forward. “What if we found him? Would we ask him to come back to us?”

My stomach twists at the idea of seeing Liam’s handsome face again. His carefree smile and boisterous laugh filled our home once, and their absence is noticeable. Marco and I love each other, I’ve never doubted that, but we loved Liam too. We loved him enough to let him go so he could follow his dreams.

“It hurts to think about it,” I admit. “Do I miss him? Of course I do. How do you not miss a light as bright as his?”

Marco nods. “I know, but I refuse to give up hope. I know how much he loved us, and I don’t think for a minute that you just get over that kind of love.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I nod, blinking back the emotion that always follows thoughts of Liam. “I wonder sometimes. If he’s in love now. Happy. Does he have a lover that cares about his needs like we did? Or…”

“Or?”

“Or does he still miss us? Does he still love us?”

“So then…” He exhales, smiling. “We’re on the same page? If we were lucky enough to find Liam, we’d ask him to come back?”

As terrified as I am to even think of a possibility like that, I nod. “Yeah. We’re on the same page.”

Marco squeezes my hand. “I love you so much, Des. I would do anything to make you happy. You know that, right?”

“Of course. You’ve proven that a million times over.”

“And you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Good.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss. “May this night be everything you hoped for.”

“This restaurant is a good start. What else do you have up your sleeve?”

“A birthday surprise.”

I smile, but there’s tension in his eyes that has my nerves kicking up just a little bit. We gave up on our pursuit of a third over eight months ago after a disastrous second date with a guy who seemed promising until we figured out he was more interested in what we could give him financially than emotionally.

Every part of our relationship is wonderful, even as we’ve navigated two tops in the bedroom. Marco and I are homebodies, happy to spend our downtime curled up on the sofa. Our nights out on the town are few and mostly only for big occasions or family or work commitments.

My job at the hospital as an administrator is taxing, as is Marco’s job as Vice President of Sales in his division for one of the top financial companies in the city.

But when Liam was part of our world, it all just felt so… balanced. His youthful optimism and tireless devotion to us were like coming home every night to a favorite blanket. He challenged us in the best ways, pushed us out of our ruts, and complemented us perfectly in the bedroom and beyond.

The only snag was when he got the opportunity of a lifetime across the world in Singapore working for his idol. He didn’t want to leave us, but we knew better than to be selfish. Liam was a shining star and deserved his time in the spotlight.

The day he left felt like losing an appendage, but it brought me and Marco that much closer. We followed Liam’s career for a while, but eventually it became too painful for me and I blocked his socials. I knew he’d do well for himself. He wouldn’t accept any less than that.

It took a year for us to go out and meet others again, but it was a constant comparison game that eventually became a rotation of pretty bottoms in and out of our bed and nothing more. It’s time to accept that Liam was a shooting star—bright and magical, and gone too soon.

Marco blows out a breath, drawing my eyes back to him. I feel the nerves radiating off him, but I don’t know why.

“Marco? What’s going on?”