“Kaya…”my dad warned.
Mymom ignored me, her tone turning smug with juicy news. “He asked about you, KayaCamille.”
Itwas my turn to glare at the overhead lighting. “Of course, he did. I’m the onlything you two have in common. He was grasping for straws trying to makeconversation with you.”
“That’swhat I said,” my dad grunted. He took an angry sip of his cocktail and Iappreciated him more than I ever had in my life.
Hehad only barely tolerated Nolan. My mother on the other hand… was his biggestfan. President of the Nolan Carstark fan club. She’d probably make t-shirts if Dadlet her.
Momleaned forward, her eyes alight with the information bomb she was about todrop. “He wants to know when you’re coming back to town. He said he missesyou.”
Iheld my mother’s sharp gaze, resisting the eye roll I desperately wanted tounleash because I needed her to take me seriously. “Mom, I know two thingsabout Nolan. And this might be disappointing, but I feel like you need to hearthem anyway. One, he doesn’t miss me. Maybe in the generic sense of the wordbecause we share a collection of good, youthful memories together. But hedoesn’t miss me. Not really. And I know this because the only time I ever hearfrom Nolan is after he’s three sheets to the wind and had meaningless sex witha random female whose name he can’t remember. That’s when he tells me he wishesI would move home and marry him. When he needs a name to remember to assuagehis guilt.”
“He’ssaid he wants to marry you? He’s said those words exactly?” My mother’sselective hearing was astounding. Like, legitimately something medical scienceshould study.
“Two.”I held up correlating fingers, choosing not to respond to her temporary psychosis.“Even if I did leave my job here, pack up my life and move back to Hamilton, hewould only break my heart again. He’s the same kid I graduated with nine yearsago. He wants nothing to do with commitment or a wife that has opinions or amind of her own. And he’d just drag out our engagement for another hundredyears because, no matter what he’s led you to believe, he isn’t ready to settledown.”
Hereyes narrowed, her mouth flatlining. “He said he misses you, Kaya, that meanssomething.”
Ishook my head. “He doesn’t. He misses a girlfriend that loved him. He missesnot feeling guilty every time he gets laid. He misses having someone there totell him he’s amazing and help him match his ties to his shirts. He doesn’tmiss me.” I let out a slow breath and tried my best to shield my fragile heartfrom the next truth she needed to hear. “He’s a narcissist, Mom. He loveshimself. He doesn’t love me. He’s never loved me.”
Mydad’s hand clamped down on my knee under the table and squeezed supportively.“He doesn’t deserve you,” he rumbled sternly.
Momhuffed and tossed her napkin on the table. “You haven’t even given him achance, Kaya. You left him remember? You left town and never looked back. Therest of us were left to pick up the pieces. That boy was going to marry you andyou just… abandoned him. And for what? For this life you claim to love so much?You work a million hours a week. You don’t have a social life or a dating life,or hell, any kind of life. You have no prospects. You’re stuck on this never-endinghamster wheel where you cook all day. This can’t be all you want out of life.”She never raised her voice. Her sense of decorum was too strong to cause ascene, but she didn’t need to. Her words were arrows, aimed directly at myself-esteem and shaky confidence. One eyebrow rose, and I instinctivelyshriveled back, knowing she was dealing the final blow. “I raised you betterthan to settle for this.”
Theair behind me turned to static, electrified and sharp. I felt the change allover my bare skin. All the little hairs on my body stood to attention, the backof my neck prickling with warning. The sensation was so strong I hardly noticedmy mother’s sneer at all. Although I couldn’t ignore it completely. I mean, itwas there. All over her face.
“Heythere, chef,” Wyatt’s deep voice greeted from behind me.
Mybody had been keenly aware he was there for a solid twenty seconds now, but theintense warmth in his voice made me jump. I couldn’t move right away, paralyzedby the intimate way he said “chef” and the five alarm warning bells clangingthrough my head. The signal was to run, but I didn’t know if it was to run fromWyatt or to him.
“Ihope you’re enjoying the meal,” he said, addressing my parents now.
Thenervous feeling zinged through me evolving from hot tension to cold fear. Howmuch had Wyatt heard? Had he caught my mom’s tirade? Had he heard about Nolannot wanting to be with me? Oh my God, right now would be such a good time for acataclysmic earthquake. Or super volcano? Surely there was a hidden supervolcano buried directly beneath me.
Iswiveled in my seat to stare up at him. He had been waiting for me. Hissmoldering gaze met mine immediately, the corners of his mouth turning up inthat wicked, mischievous way of his. “You didn’t have to come all the way outhere,” I told him.
“Iwanted to meet the parents,” he said evenly, destroying all of my assumptionsabout him. Or maybe not all of them, since he had been the one to set up thereservation in the first place, but there was an extra layer to his words thatmade my heart karate kick my breastbone. “I’ve heard so much about them afterall.”
Notwanting to draw this out for longer than I needed to, I jumped to my feet, onlytottering a second or two as I adjusted to the height of my stilettos. “I’mgoing to make you pay for this,” I whispered to Wyatt as I settled my hand onhis shoulder to catch my balance.
Hishead dipped so he could whisper, “Promises, promises,” against the shell of myear.
Hidingmy shiver, I faced my parents again and waved a hand in Wyatt’s direction.“Mom, Dad, this is Wyatt Shaw, executive chef of Lilou.” Seeing my mom’s stillpinched expression, I added, “And my boss,” hoping to soften the snarling bitchthat had taken possession of her body.
Mydad rose immediately to shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, chef. EricSwift.”
Wyattoffered a firm handshake I knew my dad would respect and said, “Same to you,sir. Your daughter is a real asset to my staff. I’m afraid I’d be lost withouther.”
“That’strue,” I quipped. “He needs me.”
Hishand settled on my lower back, adding pressure to my already tingling spine. “Ido.” My breath caught in my throat at the seductive tone to his voice, but hequickly added. “She’s the best sous chef in the city. I’m lucky to call hermine.”
God,was it me or was Wyatt full of innuendos tonight? Probably just me. Right? One mind-blowingsexual encounter did not a relationship make.
“You’rewho we have to thank for working our daughter to the bone?” my mom asked, noteven pretending to be impressed with Wyatt.
“Yes,”I said quickly, trying to diffuse the insult with sarcasm. “Please blame him.He never listens to me when I lodge complaints.”
