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I look around and the mahogany wood paneled walls with the sconces above each of the white-clothed tables. The masculine artwork and the burgundies of the seat backs. It feels like a smoking lounge from a regency film only without cigars but with a mouth-watering menu.

“Mrs. Barone.” A waiter slides steak and scallops in front of me and a steak in front of Christian with a, “Mr. Barone.” He adds asparagus and gratin potatoes as well as Brussels sprouts to the middle, overwhelming the smaller table. As he leaves, another takes his place refilling water and wine.

I can’t get over that we own this place or that he’s watched me on the video after having too many drinks. Scratch that, I’m not surprised at all by either.

The man across from me lifts his glass. “To familiar things and to new experiences. And to being by your side through it all.”

“Sláinte.” I clink my glass to his and take a sip.

The scallops are perfection. The steak may as well be made of butter since I hardly need the knife to cut it. The veggies are fresh, crisp, and flavorful. I’m afraid to taste the potatoes because if they’re as good as they look, I won’t want anything else.

I have a full bite of steak when an older gentleman with a head full of thick white hair walks to our table and shakes Christian’s hand.

He turns to me and, without preamble or introduction, launches in.

“You’re looking well, Ayla. Is Christian here”—he juts his thumb to my husband—“taking care of you?”

I lift a finger to finish my bite and to buy myself some time. “Thank you. And of course.”

“How have you been?” His eyes rake over me intensely as his gaze strays to my hairline.

I don’t like this at all. I know people know. Hell, I’m sure it was in the news, but being questioned at dinner by a nosy man playing nice makes me uncomfortable.

After a sip of water to stall yet again, I reply. “I can’t complain. Though?—”

“Sherman.” Christian’s one word is a warning, and the man looks chastened as he gazes from me to him. “It was great seeing you.”

He’s being dismissed, and we all know it.

“Well, it was good seeing you both.” He turns from Christian to me. “Glad you’re well, Ayla.”

I hold up a hand as Christian begins speaking.

“I don’t even want to know. For the first time since this”—I point nonchalantly at my temple with the knife in my left hand—“I’m good with not knowing what that was.

” I take another scallop as Christian takes a deep pull of his wine.

“Is it untoward to take leftovers from a place this nice?”

A smile spreads wide across my husband’s face. “Baby, we own the place. We can take the whole damn kitchen if we want to. Hell, we can take the chefs, but Corinne wouldn’t be happy.”

“I’m not risking Corinne, but I am taking a to-go box of everything we had.” I point to the gratin potatoes. “And I’m eating those for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Nothing says Irish like potatoes for breakfast.”

I clear my throat. “Uh, the red hair?”

“Okay, potatoes and red hair.”

“Don’t knock the gingers.”

“Princess, the red does it for me, so I’m not knocking it. Until I knock it… then I’ll remind you just how much it does it for me.”

“Candyman or Luke Bryan reference? ”

“Either.Both.You ready?”

“As soon as I get my leftovers.”

“Come on, Ayla.” He stands from the chair and extends a hand to me. “I’ll make sure you have what you need by the time you wake up.”

“Potatoes, remember?”

His hand drops dangerously close to my ass as we head toward the front door. “I’ll remember.” The humor in his voice is unmistakable.

By the time we get home, the heavy meal and the wine have lulled me into a lazy haze. “I’m going to get out of this and climb into bed with my iPad. That okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He grabs my wrist as I pass him and spins me into his body. His mouth descends and takes mine in a deep, tantalizing kiss. “I’ll meet you in bed, Princess.”

And maybe he does. But I’m fast asleep by the time he arrives, and his side of the bed is cold when I wake.

In fact, I’m left on my own for breakfast since he’s nowhere to be seen. Leftover potatoes for the win. But tackling Georgio so I can have a decent cup of java? While the espresso was bitter and I couldn’t do enough to fix it, the machine also didn’t revolt, so I’ll call it a draw.

Who am I kidding? It’s a loss and will require intervention. I throw on clothes that make me look one step up from a schlemiel and search for my keys. A coffee run is in order.

My keys aren’t in my purse, and I don’t remember the last time I drove. I look on the hook by the door only to find nothing.

I wander down the hall toward Christian’s office, finding it open. The keys to my Audi are on his desk. I grab them and turn away, heading for the garage.

My phone rings as I leave the driveway, but not through Bluetooth.

“Hello. Wait. Hang on.” It’s a run-on sentence as I navigate the car with one hand and the buttons on the dash with the other. “I’m coming,” I yell into the car until I hear the beeps and the voice come through. A laughing voice.

“What? It’s not funny.”

“Sure it is.” Christian’s voice is warm and oozes humor.

“Glad you can get a laugh.”

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m out hunting for coffee and need technology to work while my brain isn’t.”

“You looked frantic when you left the house.”

“The coffee part, remember. Georgio wasn’t cooperative this morning.”

“Sorry I left you hanging. We’ll do another tutorial later to see what his problem is.”

“His problem is user error. It’s me, so another tutorial would be good. Sad that it takes that much for coffee, but worth it.”

“We’ll get it straight, Princess. What do you have on tap for today?”

“Coffee. Then conquer the world, I guess. Maybe I’ll cook.”

The sputtering noise from the other end of the speakers reverberates through the car. “Cook?”

“Sure. I have ideas with the veggies from last night. Maybe the scallops too.”

“Oh. Kay.” It comes out so slowly it’s definitely two words when he says it. “Well, keep me posted if I need to send Corinne in or if I need to get groceries delivered for you. Work is… work. So I’ll be gone most of the day.”

“Are you local? Or did you hop a private plane to Montana this morning without me knowing?”

“I’m downtown. In the office. And Montana sucks this time of year.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Kick butt today.”

His voice softens as his words hit me. “Miss you, Princess. Have a great day. I’ll be home in time for dinner. Even if it’s late.”

I pull through the circular drive of my favorite coffee shop near the house. “Okay. See you tonight.”

I’ve barely hung up and placed my order when my phone rings again. “I didn’t hang up on you, did I?”

“No, sweetie. Are you okay? ”

“Mom! How are you? How’s Dad?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Your father is— Well, your father is your father so…”

“Is work getting to him?” Rolling down my window, I offer my credit card to the woman who hands me my elixir of the gods. “Thank you. Have a great day.”

“Do you need to go?” Mom asks.

“No, I’m good. I’m grabbing coffee.” The attendant hands me my card and a receipt and I wave goodbye as if we’re old friends. I do stupid things before coffee. “Sorry, Mom. Go on.” I point the car toward the house.

“Why are you grabbing coffee?”

“We have either the turbo espresso thirty-five hundred or the worst coffee ever. I couldn’t manage the first and wouldn’t swallow the second. And I needed caffeine.”

“If you’re out and about, why don’t you come over?”

It takes me about two seconds. “I can do that, but don’t comment on my clothes. Or my hair. Or my… anything, okay? This was an emergency run, and I look like the Goodwill threw up all over me. You’ve been warned.”

“Gosh, I’ve missed you. Come on. I’ll put on an extra pot of coffee.”

“I have coffee in hand.” I take a sip and do all I can not to moan. I don’t resist dancing in my seat though. Delicious. Salted caramel with an extra shot. Exactly what I needed on this damp, gray morning.

“Which will be empty by the time you get here. Unless you milk it.”

“True. True.” I make the next left to head west toward my parents’ house. “You were saying something about Dad’s job.”

“The man needs Xanax. Or yoga. Or a lobotomy. His job has his face perpetually red and his blood pressure sky high.”

“That’s not good. What’s he doing to manage that?”

Her laugh verges on maniacal. “Manage it. Manage it? You know better than that. He’s doing next to nothing aside from riling himself up. He’s exhausted and trying to bring me down with him. And Ci—” She stops abruptly .

“And Ci what? Is he okay? Ellie?” I hit the brakes at a left turn lane, thinking to make an illegal U-turn and head for my brother’s when she speaks.

“Cian and your father are butting heads. And that’s putting it mildly. You know your father and not being able to control the business, or Ci, and with your situation… He’s stressed.”

“My situation?” I turn right onto their street. “I’m parking now. Be in in a second.”

I hang up and throw the car in park, trying to avoid the sour taste in my mouth that this morning will truly bring.

By the time I alight, Mom is in the doorway in tailored slacks and a silk blouse.

I look down at myself, maybe for the first time this morning, and feel so lacking that it almost hurts.

“Hey, Mom.” I wrap her in a hug and move through the door as she backs into the house.

“Hey, sweetie. Ready for a warm-up?” She glances at the paper cup in my hand.

“You know it.” I lift the cup to my lips and drain the dregs of syrup and coffee solids before heading to her pot and adding a bit of coffee to what’s left in the cup. One good swirl is all I have left.

I grab a mug from her cabinet and make a fresh cup before heading to the sitting room, kicking off my boots, and curling up in an oversized chair.