Page 125 of The Holy Grail

The bar was a separate room, located off the dining room, and was decorated much the same, with the exception of the tables being high-tops, with black granite tops and taller chairs.

The bar itself had a matching granite top with a black base, and the lighting in the recessed mirrored shelves holding the extensive alcohol glowed a soft pink.

The kitchen was a chef’s dream, with high-end appliances, dedicated work stations, and plenty of space to work in.

After spending countless hours debating the menu—wanting to keep it somewhat limited to exceptional dishes, but finding it hard to really narrow the selections down, Evan suggested having seasonal menus.

One for spring, summer, autumn, and winter, with specific appetizers, salads, entrées, and desserts, as well as wine pairings, and they would have the added potential of bringing people in specifically to try new things.

It would also make it easier to make the dishes, because none of the ‘ingredients’ would technically be ‘out of season’, thus eliminating too many supply chain shortages, especially if they shopped locally.

“That’s … genius,” Malcom had said, and immediately began creating four different menus, without any repeats.

Since the opening, the three of them had gotten to where their schedules were mostly aligned, usually working five days a week, from 4:00 p.m. to midnight, with Jules handling the administrative side in her back office, while Evan managed the bar, and Malcom oversaw the kitchen, doing a lot of the cooking himself.

It was a change for Jules and Malcom, but they became acclimated to it, as well as sleeping in every morning.

Most of those nights, like tonight, they would meet for dinner (with Malcom changing out of his chef’s whites), always trying to sample something different from the menu in the name of quality control, to make sure all the chefs were consistently serving excellent dishes.

It also gave them a chance to observe the clientele and their reaction to the meals, as well as the service they received .

There were times when he felt as if he’d hijacked Jules’ and Evan’s lives, but they were always quick to reassure Malcom this was how it was meant to be, all together and working for one common goal, as partners—both inside the restaurant and outside.

It was fantastic.

No more working long hours that didn’t always coincide with the others’, and then going home to hopefully spend an hour or two with them before it was time to go to sleep and start the cycle all over again. Now, they usually worked the same hours and were mostly home at the same time.

Did they sometimes argue at work? Yes, they did.

Did they sometimes argue at home? Yes, they did.

It was still fantastic.

“Hey,” Jules said softly, as she sat down at the table.

At forty-five, she was possibly more alluring than she had been in her thirties, mainly because her beauty had become more refined and elegant as she aged, and less girlish. Her burnished, copper-colored hair was arranged in a simple up-do, and her make-up was simple and understated.

The red, wide-legged slacks and matching vest with its oversized lapels was one of the outfits she’d purchased from Chanel, as were the black and white patent-leather heels.

She was also wearing the red carnelian necklace she’d purchased years ago in the Groovy Crystals shop, and it dangled just above her cleavage, rather enticingly.

“Hey, yourself,” Malcom returned, taking her hand and kissing the platinum wedding band on her left ring finger, with its row of bezel-set diamonds on top and his and Evan’s names engraved on the inside.

Malcom and Evan had matching rings as well, with ‘Evan’ and ‘Jules’ and ‘Malcom’ and ‘Jules’ engraved on them, respectively.

The placing of the rings on their ring fingers was obviously ceremonial, because the three of them couldn’t legally be married, but they felt married, so chose to use the traditional ring finger … and anyone who might look at them sideways, or be judgmental about it could go fuck themselves.

“I picked my people,” she announced.

Randomly, she would choose a couple—or a family—in the restaurant and send either a bottle of champagne or desserts over to them as a surprise. Usually it was because they were celebrating an event, but sometimes it was just because they caught her attention in some way .

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Corner booth.”

He glanced over and saw Evan in the process of delivering two glasses and a bottle of champagne to a fairly young couple—possibly in their late twenties—who looked like they were wearing their nicest clothes, although they were far from fancy.

“Tell me about them,” Malcom said.

With a smile, Jules dove in. “They’re celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary, and decided to splurge on a really nice dinner.

I found out they had their wedding reception at The Main Event, while Paige was there, and I’m pretty sure this is the couple who had very little money, so Paige paid for the food and the room fee …

and David paid their bar tab, because they reminded Paige of her and David when they got married the first time. ”

“That was generous of them,” Malcom murmured, as Evan expertly popped the cork and filled the two glasses to the couple’s obvious delight. “And very kind.”

“It was. She and David did most of the room set-up, as well.”

Malcom smiled softly. “I knew the moment I met her she was a sweetheart. Actually, I knew it before the introductions were made.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t thinking that about me.”

He almost snorted. “I definitely wasn’t.”

She gave him a look that told him she wasn’t amused, even though she obviously was, before getting back on topic. “Anyway, I think this couple might have had to save up for tonight’s celebration, so I wanted to give them a little something they probably wouldn’t get for themselves.”

“I like that. What do you say we give them a complimentary dinner, as well?”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Tugging him close to give him a deep kiss, she then wiped a little bit of her Clinique Black Honey lipstick off his bottom lip. “I love you so much right now.”

“I love you so much right now, too.”

“Is it more than I love you?” she teased, her eyes traveling over his face.

A few months shy of turning fifty, he was aging like fine wine—like a 2008 Chateau Lafite Rothschild, fine.

The laugh lines around his blue eyes (which were now glasses-free since he finally opted to have LASIK surgery a year and a half ago) added more character, as did the more pronounced gray hair at his temples.

“No, just the same amount,” he replied blandly, after pretending to mull it over .

“That’s not the correct answer.”

“What? If I loved you more, it would upset the delicate balance of our triad, wouldn’t it? And we’re all about balance.”

Before she could respond, Evan, having finished with the young couple, began making his way over to Jules and Malcom, drawing their attention.

Looking polished in tailored slacks and a button-down shirt, Evan, now forty-four, had undergone the most noticeable change during his time in France.

As well as gaining a quiet maturity, he’d developed an appreciation for designer clothing (which surpassed even that of Jules), and had come home with an amazing wardrobe filled with pieces from Armani, Dior, and Tom Ford.

He’d also adopted a modern, slicked-back hairstyle, and while it didn’t completely tame his wavy, reddish-brown hair, it kept it nicely off his face, highlighting his closely trimmed beard.

“Your couple was ecstatic,” he told Jules as he sat down.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” she replied, glancing over at the couple again, watching as they drank some of the Veuve Cliquot champagne, clearly enjoying it.

“I’m thinking we should comp their dinner, too.” At Jules’ and Malcom’s smiles, Evan asked, “Was that already suggested?”

“Yes,” Jules said. “And we’re going to do that.”

Nodding, Evan glanced around the room. “Looks like another busy night,” he mused.

“Busy is good,” Malcom said.

“It is, except when I’m hoping we can get out of here a little early.”

“Oh?” Malcom raised his eyebrows. “Any reason in particular? Like engaging in some fuckery, perhaps?”

The discreet clearing of a throat behind them captured their attention, and they all glanced back to see Anthony, holding three menus.

“How is everyone tonight?” he asked, as he began laying the menus down on the table.

Two years ago, Jules had shamelessly recruited him from Macaroni’s, and had suffered zero guilt about it. He was originally meant to be head waiter, but shortly after hiring him, Malcom had decided to offer Anthony the position of assistant night manager position, which he’d promptly accepted.

“We’re all good,” Jules replied warmly, as if they hadn’t been overheard discussing fuckery a few seconds ago .

Anthony had overheard so many questionable snippets of their conversation in the past two years, that not even Malcom was embarrassed anymore.

“And just to let you know,” Jules continued, “The couple in the corner booth will be receiving a complimentary meal.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let their server know,” Anthony said.

He gave them a minute to look over the Autumn menu, which had just come out a few weeks ago, and after taking their orders and promising to return with their wine, he left.

Dinners at Feast were usually when they would catch up on any work related issues, remind each other of any upcoming social engagements, and just shoot the shit in general.

“Are we still having Julian and Jacob over tomorrow night?” Evan wanted to know.

“Yes,” Jules confirmed, her obvious enthusiasm a far cry from the first time they’d watched the boys.

Since then, she and Malcom had become as natural around the boys as Evan, finding it a lot of fun, especially now they were all honorary family, and called ‘Aunt’ Jules, ‘Uncle Mal’, and ‘Uncle Evan’.

At eight and thirteen, Julian and Jacob had very distinctive personalities, and with the exception of Julian’s eyes, which were brown, they both resembled their father, David, to a spooky degree because his genetics were apparently incredibly strong.

So, every time Jules looked at the younger boy with a variation of her name, and Paige’s eyes looked back, Jules couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that why you’re hoping to leave early tonight?” Malcom asked.

“Of course. When the boys come over we always have to be on our best behavior,” Evan pointed out, sounding as if that was a huge inconvenience, or at the very least, that when they weren’t on their best behavior they were engaging in extreme debauchery.

Malcom nodded. “Which obviously means no fuckery—”

“Here’s your wine,” Anthony said, placing a glass down in front of Malcom, then doing the same for Jules and Evan.

“Thank you,” Malcom said, picking up his glass and raising it in the air, waiting for the other two to do the same. When they did, he toasted, “ Regarde-nous .”

“ Regarde-nous ,” Jules and Evan repeated together, with gusto.

They all clinked glasses together, then took drinks of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Anthony, who had taken a few steps away, turned and came back. “ Regarde-nous ,” he said slowly, having heard the toast before, many times, but still managing to semi-butcher it. “What does that mean? ”

Malcom shared a smile with Jules and Evan before looking up at Anthony and answering, “It means … ‘look at us’.”

THE END