Page 16

Jade

T hough my encounter with Alan has definitely given me pause, it hasn’t stopped the thrill of my successful Under the Sea meeting from dancing through me. I return to my studio and carefully put the dinnerware samples back in place. I’ll need to map out the best strategy for production in the coming days and then get things underway.

But first, I pull out my phone, eager to share the contagious buzz of my success. And rather than Alexis this time, I tap out a message to Rhys.

Me: Got incredible news! The dinnerware project’s a go!

I hit send, picturing his smile when he reads it.

The response is almost instantaneous, buzzing back like an electric charge through my hand.

Rhys: That’s fantastic! We need to celebrate. How about tonight?

Me: Love to.

Rhys: Great, I’ll surprise you. Pick you up at your studio around 6?

Me: I’ll be at the hotel. You can pick me up there.

I add a smiley face before locking my screen, pushing aside the lingering doubts about moving forward with Rhys. I’m just sharing my happiness with a friend. There doesn’t have to be anything more than that. And Rhys has proven himself as a friend. There’s nothing to worry about there.

To soothe myself, I turn to the comfort of my potter’s wheel. Soon, the clay spins under my hands, a grounding ritual that calms the nervous energy buzzing through me. I remind myself that securing the Under the Sea project isn’t just a business win, it’s confirmation that I can carve out something on my own, away from my family’s shadow.

No time like the present to get started, so I craft one plate after another, the slick clay yielding to my touch. Each curve and lip molds under my hands, but my thoughts soon spiral back to Alan’s words, trying to decipher their meaning.

What could he have discovered? Is JP doing something to undermine Dad?

Before I know it, I have over two dozen plates that will need to dry for a few days and then go in for the first bisque fire. Wiping my clay-streaked hands on my apron, I glance at the clock. I need to go if I’m going to shower.

Even what should be a quick trip across town is never easy with the constant traffic of San Francisco. I dream of days when we can teleport from one location to the next as I lose so much time sitting in a car. Today as I inch along, I listen to some podcasts, getting caught up with world events and starting a murder mystery.

Eventually, my thoughts drift back to Alan, and I grip the wheel tighter. Confronting my father or JP without more details and proof would obviously be a mistake. It feels dangerous to mention this to anyone. But how will I get the answers I need when the person who has them is living on the fringes of society? I hope he’ll email.

Finally at the hotel, I swing open the door to my room and head for the marble-tiled bathroom, the earthy fragrance of my studio lingering on my skin. Soon, hot steam curls up around me, coaxing away the last traces of the clay that always finds its way into my hair.

Wrapped in a plush towel, I lay out clothing on the bed and survey my options. Tonight is about more than celebrating, I’ve decided. After that kiss, I think I want more from Rhys. Don’t know if tonight is when I’ll take him up on his offer, but it might be. I opt for a figure-hugging black dress and apply makeup with an artist’s precision, enhancing rather than masking—a sweep of mascara to make my eyes pop, a brush of blush to bring warmth to my cheeks, and a daring red for lips that might meet his again at the end of the evening.

A glance in the mirror confirms I’ve transformed from muddy sculptor to sultry siren. But something nags at the back of my mind, and suddenly, I’m not sure if this is the look I want. Damn you, Cooper, and your cheating ways. With a determined breath, I shake away the memory. Rhys is not Cooper. He’s been clear about what he wants and has already demonstrated that he cares about me. This is not a game. This is real.

Glancing at the clock, I find that I’m ready early. That never happens. Usually I’m dashing, always catching up as time races ahead of me. A part of me would love to take something to calm my nerves, but I’ve been sober too long to risk it. Instead, I sit and do the breathing exercises I learned in therapy.

Breathe in through my nose. Breathe out through my mouth. Repeat.

With my nerves calmed, I scan my phone for any new emails.

Nothing. But I tell myself to be patient. It’s not like Alan Frasier had a home or office to go back to, and he was clearly nervous. He once represented the company, and now, he’s relegated to the fringes of society. It’s a somber thought and a terrible situation. I’ll have to hope his conscience wins out again in the end.

I lean back, replaying our conversation in my head. What could JP be up to? Does he realize he’s destroyed a man’s life? Does he care? Then again, Alan was sure he saw someone, and there appeared to be no one there. Maybe it’s mental illness. I need a lot more information before I can move forward.

My phone buzzes with a call from Rhys, and a smile blooms on my face. “Hi,” I answer, my concerns fading.

“I’m about ten minutes away,” he says. “And I was thinking… Can I come in to pick you up? You know, do this properly?”

My smile widens, and I twirl a loose strand of hair around my finger. “So, this is a date, then?” I tease.

“Absolutely,” he replies. “And if all goes well, I’m looking forward to another goodnight kiss.”

A spark of excitement ignites. I glance at the mirror, revisiting the effort I’ve made for tonight. I know that’s what I want. His lips pressing gently against mine seems like a fitting reward.

“I’ll be here. Room eight-seventeen.”

“See you in ten.”

The line goes dead—it happens during high-traffic times when the network is overloaded—and my pulse races. A tingling warmth spreads through me. I can’t remember the last time a man made me feel like this, if ever.

I pace around for a few minutes, and then the knock on the door comes as both a relief and the spur for a fresh bout of anxiety. I take a deep breath and open the door for Rhys, who looks handsome as ever, despite coming from work.

“Sorry about the phone,” he starts, his brows furrowing with concern. “I got cut off and wasn’t sure how much you heard.”

“I believe there was something about a kiss,” I reply, suddenly daring, despite my fears.

He grumbles under his breath, running a hand through his hair before his eyes lock with mine, filled with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

“Look, that kiss was…incredible,” he says. “But I don’t want to be a complication in your life. You were running away from your wedding when we met, and I get it. You have a complicated family and a lot going on. I’m not here to pressure you. I’ll wait for however long it takes, because I’m very interested in you. I want us to be more than friends.”

So direct. So clear. Nothing nuanced or subtle about that message. It’s a lot, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like too much. Despite the urge to retreat to the safety of playful flirtation, I focus on the possibility of what Rhys is offering—a chance at something real and tangible.

I nod. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

And I do. After the rollercoaster of my broken engagement and the pressure from my family, someone willing to let me set the pace of our relationship feels like a gift. Rhys is looking at me like I’m the only one in his world, so I allow myself to believe what he says.

“You’re not pressuring me,” I assure him. “But you know, my baggage isn’t exactly carry-on. We’re talking about multiple trunks that need to be shipped separately.” It’s my truth laid bare, the messy, complicated layers of my life as metaphorical luggage.

“Then we’ll ship them together,” he says with a shrug.

And suddenly, all I can do is smile. Rhys extends his arm, and we take the elevator down to where his car waits.

The Escalade gleams under the hotel’s portico, and Scott is standing at the rear passenger door.

“Hello, Scott.”

“Good evening, Ms. Allerton.” He winks at me, and I grin from ear to ear. I swear I hear a growl from Rhys.

As we slip into our seats, Scott shuts the door behind us and walks around to the driver’s side, leaving us alone for a moment.

“I should have said this earlier, but you look beautiful.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks, warm and unbidden. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I manage.

Soon, the Golden Gate stretches before us, a grand vermilion slash against the sky. Rhys laces his fingers with mine as we admire the beauty and cross over to the other side.

“I thought we might enjoy an excellent restaurant up in San Anselmo,” he tells me.

I return the smile. The idea of exploring somewhere new with him sounds wonderful, though I’m the one who’s supposed to be showing him the secrets of the City. For now, I lean back into the plush seat, letting the anticipation build. As the City falls away behind us, replaced by open spaces and the darkening silhouette of Marin Headlands, Rhys quizzes me about my meeting with Under the Sea.

“I was worried they wouldn’t like what I presented.” I laugh lightly, remembering the butterflies in my stomach. “But they loved it. They set the dishes on this beautiful tablecloth, and it was amazing. I’m so excited about how it’s going to look.”

“I’ve seen your work, which is amazing, and you’re in some of the best restaurants in San Francisco. Why would you think they wouldn’t like it?”

I glow with warmth, and I’m struck by how much I value his opinion and approval. It makes the good news feel even better, like a shared triumph between us.

“I’m always nervous,” I explain. “I need a long lead time, and chefs reach out to me so early in their process that every now and then the menu has changed or they’ve gotten a new idea or they have to cancel orders because they’re struggling.”

“Well, I knew it was going to be a success after all the work you’ve put into it.”

“Thank you.” I look out the window as we exit the highway. “This has been a long time coming. When I first started looking into this kind of work, Cooper didn’t want me to take commissions. But for some reason I couldn’t ever tell them I was canceling.”

“I’m so glad,” Rhys says. “Why didn’t Cooper want you to do it?”

“He felt that once we were married, I shouldn’t work, unless it was for Allerton Mining.” I shrug. “He saw my ceramics as a hobby.”

“Well, if it’s a hobby, you’re very lucky to earn an income from it. The best kind of work is something you’d do for free.”

My heart swells. I think I’ve always longed for this kind of encouragement.

The tires of the Escalade crunch against the gravel as Scott pulls into the parking lot at Madcap restaurant. My heart leaps. I know this place. I break out in a smile.

“Here we are,” Rhys announces. “I don’t know if you’ve been here already, but I tried. I figured you’re a regular at all the best San Francisco restaurants, so maybe a short drive would introduce you to something new.”

I just smile. I can’t bring myself to tell him I know the restaurant. He’s put so much thought into making tonight special. And it is special. It doesn’t matter if I’ve eaten here before or not.

I step out of the car and my heels click on the stone path leading to the entrance. The sun is heading toward the horizon, casting a golden glow that reflects off the water, making the restaurant seem to shimmer.

“Jade! What a pleasant surprise!” The voice of Roy Morrison, chef and owner of Madcap, booms across the open kitchen as we enter.

“Hey, Roy!” I call back, feeling a rush of affection for the man who’s been both a mentor and a friend, as well as a touch of embarrassment. He’s just blown my cover.

He strides out from the kitchen, the warm smell of garlic and fresh bread following in his wake. He wraps me in a bear hug, lifting me slightly off my feet, and I laugh, returning the embrace.

“Rhys, this is Roy Morrison,” I say. “The genius behind this place.”

“Nice to meet you, Roy,” Rhys says, extending his hand. I catch a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he covers it with a polite smile.

“Likewise,” Roy replies, giving Rhys’s hand a firm shake.

“Have you dined with us before?” Roy asks Rhys.

“Actually, this is my sister’s favorite spot when she comes to visit,” Rhys says. “We eat here every time she comes out.”

“Excellent,” Roy says with a chuckle.

He leads us through the waterfront restaurant to our table, and the view from our spot is breathtaking, the North Bay and Berkeley sprawled out before us like a canvas painted with twinkling lights. “Tonight, I’m going to spoil you,” Roy declares as we take our seats. “You will enjoy some very special flavors not on the menu, and, Jade, your talent will be right at the heart of it.”

I feel a flutter of anticipation as I consider Rhys’s reaction to what’s coming.

Roy departs, and we settle in, the privacy of the booth creating an intimate bubble. Rhys scans the elegant table, a slight furrow between his brows.

“Here, let me show you,” I say, reaching for one of the plates.

I turn it over to reveal the mark on its underside, my simple, stylized JA.

A smile appears on Rhys’s face. “Is this your work?” he asks.

“Every piece,” I admit, feeling a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “Roy told me about his vision for the menu, and I created these to complement it. Each season we add a new piece, so it’s aways fresh.”

Rhys runs his finger over the smooth glaze, tracing the lines of my mark. “They’re perfect. And I had no idea…” He shakes his head. “Here I thought I might be finding a restaurant you’ve never been to, and turns out, I took you to one of your clients. This isn’t a very special dinner. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head immediately. “Why are you sorry? This is absolutely special. I’ve only eaten here once, on the opening night of his initial menu, and to be honest, I was rather stressed out.” At that Rhys cracks a smile. “I’m thrilled to share this meal, this evening with you. Wait until you see what Roy can do,” I tell him. “He’s such a talented chef. We’ll enjoy this together. I feel much more at ease this evening.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Rhys says with a smile.

“His meals are paired nicely with wine,” I add. “Feel free to help yourself. You don’t have to hold back on my account.”

“I’m okay with sparkling water,” he assures me.

I nod and smile, eager to take the focus off myself. “We talked about me all the way here. Now, it’s your turn. How’s everything going?”

“Work’s been…unusual lately,” he says, leaning back into the plush seat. “I told you about my friend, one of the founders of the company who’s gone missing. We’re all still trying to make sense of that.”

“Have you gotten any more messages from him?”

Rhys shakes his head. “No. And the message was full of warnings and a request that makes the other partners and me nervous.”

Our conversation pauses as Roy reappears with the first course, a delicately arranged crudo that makes my mouth water immediately.

We dig in, and I watch Rhys’s expression brighten with each new flavor.

“Roy, you’ve outdone yourself,” I comment after sampling the dish.

“Definitely,” Rhys agrees.

Roy looks pleased with himself. “Thank you. I love to hear that, but I promise, I won’t be hovering tonight. What are you celebrating?”

Rhys looks at me, waiting to see what I want to share.

Smoothing the napkin in my lap, I look at Roy. “I think you probably knew before I did, but Under the Sea committed to eight hundred pieces today.”

Roy glows. “I told Makayla that if she wants a Michelin star, she needed to work with you. I’m sure we got ours because of you.”

I shake my head. He’s too kind. “I played a minor role in your success. It’s you and your team that deserve all the credit.”

“They do deserve a lot of credit, but presentation is integral to earning a star, and your designs are outstanding. I’m so glad it worked out with Makayla. I can’t wait to see your new work.”

“Thank you, Roy.” I feel myself blushing again.

With a nod, Roy retreats.

“You are really impressive,” Rhys says, going for another bite of food.

“I think luck has something to do with it. After I moved back to San Francisco, I wanted to keep busy, but I didn’t want to work at my father’s company. So I spent my days throwing plates and bowls.”

“Come on,” Rhys chides. “You think anyone can do this? I doubt that.”

“I was filling up my loft with pottery when Alexis mentioned my work to a chef she knew.” I smile at the memory. “At the time, I’d never made dishware for restaurants, but I took a leap. That first commission led to another, and now, three years later, here we are.”

“That’s incredible. You took something you loved and turned it into a career.”

“It wasn’t all me,” I admit. “Alexis was the one who knew I could do it, even before I did. And word of mouth has gotten me all my clients. I don’t advertise.”

“How do you do it for so many restaurants?”

“I don’t do a large order like Under the Sea very often—that’s only for new clients. After that I might create a new plate or bowl each season for someone, and that’s usually about a hundred pieces.”

Rhys shakes his head. “Still, that’s quite a project. What an amazing niche you’ve found.”

“Thank you.”

A server appears and places soup in front of us. It’s a cream of mushroom, with mushrooms from Roy’s garden, he explains.

“This is his signature dish,” I note as we pick up our spoons. “It’s my favorite.”

“The soup bowl is pretty snazzy too,” Rhys says.

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling as we slurp our soup.

These good, positive feelings Rhys brings out in me linger, and I decide to take a chance. Rhys is removed from the Allerton Mining world, so I think that makes him safe, and he’s been nothing but supportive of me so far. I need to tell someone about Alan Frasier, and he’s the best candidate I’ve got.

“Something strange happened to me today,” I say.

“Strange? Do tell? Because if it’s the guy who only wears a shirt and cowboy boots, he just takes the no shirt, no shoes, no service requirements seriously.”

That makes me laugh again. I know exactly who he’s talking about, and that guy lets it all hang out as he walks around town. “No, it wasn’t him,” I say when I’ve stopped giggling. “But it was an unusual man...” I tell him about running into Alan Frasier.

“Could he be stalking you?” Rhys’s voice drops an octave, protective instincts clearly kicking in. “In a city this size, bumping into someone isn’t always by chance.”

“Stalking?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but now, it sends a shiver down my spine. “I doubt it. Alan’s been through a lot.”

“What could he know?” Rhys probes. “Do you think JP could be doing something hinky?”

“Definitely. I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon. I’m not sure what JP is capable of, though, and at this point, I have nothing real to go on. I gave Alan my card and asked him to email me the details. If I don’t hear from him, I guess I’ll assume this was just a product of mental illness.”

“He’s unhoused. How can he email you?”

“I realize that’s not the easiest thing, but I went with what I could come up with before he bolted. Most shelters have computers for their guests, or he can always use one at the library.”

“Really? I didn’t realize.”

I nod. “The City provides a lot for the unhoused population—beds and food, voicemail boxes, computer access, pet sitting, plus medical checks and mental healthcare.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a way he could do it, but I still may never hear from him. I did reach out to my sister, though. She’s head of HR for the company, and she can look into why he was terminated.”

“Oh, that’s good. Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“I do.”

Rhys nods as our next course appears in front of us, a white fish that flakes delicately in a butter sauce.

I moan my appreciation as I try a bite, and Rhys shakes his head. “If Roy’s food can make you this happy, I’ve got my work cut out for me.” He raises an eyebrow. “But I’m up for the challenge—multiple times.”

I pull in a breath. Somehow, he always manages to surprise me, and heat rushes through my body. I take a moment to gather my wits. “I’d like to see you try. It’s never been done before.”

“Never?”

I shake my head. “Certainly not multiple, and even the loners often require my help.”

He looks horrified. “When you’re ready, we’re going to rectify that.”

I feel my panties growing damp.

He clears his throat as I shift in my seat. “If we’re going to get out of here without embarrassment, I need to change the subject. What’s your plan for the situation you learned about today?”

I look out across the restaurant. “Well, I can’t go to my dad until I have proof. I may go crazy waiting around to see if this guy emails me.”

“So how can you get proof without him?”

I shake my head, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “I’m a little worried about mentioning it to anyone in my family, but I think Alexis should have some insight eventually. She’s the most trustworthy of all of them.”

“I hope she’s helpful,” he agrees, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “If there’s something lurking beneath the surface, best to drag it into the light.”

We toast with our sparkling waters.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Rhys says, the soft lighting of the restaurant casting a warm glow on his earnest face.

I nod, twirling my glass between my fingers. “I promise.”

There’s a lull in our conversation, and I decide to address the elephant in the room or, rather, the bar. “Does it bother you that I don’t drink?” I ask. I’m unsure why it suddenly feels important to discuss this now.

Rhys shakes his head. “Not at all,” he replies. He takes a sip from his glass, the bubbles catching the light. “I appreciate you doing what you must to take care of yourself. I only drink socially with business partners, and even then, I’m careful.” He pauses, his gaze dropping to the table before meeting mine again. “My dad…he was an addict.”

His admission hangs between us, a shared intimacy that pulls us closer. I nod, urging him to continue if he’d like to.

“He hurt his back at work and was prescribed opioids. What started as pain relief spiraled into addiction.” There’s bitterness in his voice now. “Our family went from happy and healthy to ugly, really fast.”

“Is that what—” But my question is cut short as Roy reappears, delivering our next course with a flourish.

“Oysters on the half shell,” he announces before he vanishes as quickly as he came, leaving behind the briny scent of the sea.

“Last thing I need is another aphrodisiac,” Rhys quips, eyeing the delicately arranged shells.

“Agreed,” I say with a laugh. The tension of our attraction is palpable, thickening the air between us.

The lull in our conversation is a comfortable one, the kind born of growing trust rather than awkwardness. Rhys looks out at the gentle ebb and flow of the Bay through the window. With an exhale that seems to carry the weight of years, he turns back to me.

“Jade, my father overdosed when I was fourteen. He… It wasn’t accidental.”

That hits me with a force I can feel. Devastating. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him, reaching for his hand.

“After he…died,” Rhys says, his voice breaking slightly, “I promised myself I’d never let things spiral like that again, not with my family, not with anyone close to me.” He pauses, tracing the rim of his glass. “It’s probably why I’ve kept most people at arm’s length. Control feels safer than chaos, you know?”

I nod. For all his confidence and charm, part of Rhys is still that fourteen-year-old boy, trying to make sense of a world turned upside down.

My heart aches for him, for the boy who had to face such a stark reality. My fingers curl more tightly around his. “Thank you for trusting me with that,” I say, and it’s not just words. It’s recognition, connection.

I look down at my glass of sparkling water, bubbles rising and popping like tiny confessions waiting to escape. “I know about demons too,” I tell him, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Growing up with money meant access…to everything. I dabbled in drugs, got wrapped up in things no seventeen-year-old should.”

I pause, recalling the recklessness of those days, the feeling of invincibility that came with privilege. “One night, high and desperate for more, my friend and I broke into a house. We got caught.” The memory is sour, a discordant echo of a past I wish I could rewrite. “My father made it disappear—for me. My friend wasn’t so lucky. She served three years.” I shake my head, but I can’t stop now. “I almost overdosed once, a mistake that finally opened my eyes. Ended up in rehab down in Malibu not long after that.”

Sharing this feels like shedding skin, painful but necessary for growth. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his eyes never leave mine, steady and understanding. This is why I’m here—why we’re both here—not just to share food, but to share the parts of ourselves we’ve been hiding.

“Kicking the habit was brutal, the toughest battle I’ve ever fought,” I admit.

“Ever tempted to go back?” he asks.

I shrug, the truth spilling out. “The craving lingers, you know? Always there, lurking.” I hesitate, then add, “After dinner with my family recently…it was tough not to want an escape.”

“Ah,” Rhys murmurs. “That’s the demon you were running from.”

“But instead, I ordered a big piece of chocolate cake,” I assure him. “The hotel has the best in town.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a husky promise. “And if you need to use, Jade…use me instead.”

My eyes widen, and a laugh bursts from me. “That’s quite an offer,” I say, feeling a little giddy.

The rest of dinner passes in an assortment of flavors and shared smiles. Each course has a symphony of tastes to appreciate, and I love that Rhys got to see my creations in action as well.

Later, we leave Madcap behind, and Scott drives us back to the City, the Escalade gliding through the streets like a shadow. He pulls into the valet in front of the hotel, and my hand finds Rhys’s instinctively, fingers intertwining as we say our goodnights.

“Thanks for tonight,” I murmur. “It was…more than I expected.”

“I’m sorry I took you to a restaurant you knew so well, but I am glad I got to see your talent put to excellent use,” Rhys replies, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.

Rhys’s kiss lingers on my lips as we exit the car and move toward the door, a spark that feels equal parts promise and danger. We step into the lobby and my heart races, not just with desire, but with the import of what taking this step with him might mean.

His expression remains open and unguarded, letting me make all the decisions. Trusting him could be the best one I’ve ever made—or the riskiest.