“Yeah?”
“Could be a fun added experience,” I say while wiping my hands on a dish towel.
James hands me the bottle of wine. “I agree.”
I wonder if he can see it. The dazzling joy sweeping under my skin, through my veins. I feel reconnected with myself after tonight. Not a single minute over the last few hours has felt like work. It’s been decadent playtime—even better than I remember it.
I stare at him over my long drink, studying his contentment. The easy way he’s leaning back against the counter. He doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry to go anywhere. It’s how he always looks around me. Or maybe that’s just the sweet buzz from the wine coating my senses.
“Now that we’re done, what’s your final verdict on the menu?”
He tilts his head. “My verdict . . . it’s going to be a huge success.”
“You’re not just saying that? Because I can take honesty.” I pause. “I mean, if it’s negative, I’ll cry for sure, but I can take it.”
He laughs and comes closer to steal the bottle back from me. “Here’s my brutal honesty: I want to eat these exact dishes every day for the rest of my life.”
Oh shit.
I watch his mouth connect with the rim of the bottle. He tips it, jawline sharpening, throat working as he swallows. In the history of the world, drinking wine has never looked so sexy.
Probably I should let his comment pass me by without waving at it.
Probably I should pretend I don’t sense the deeper meaning.
“Maybe that can be arranged . . .” I say.
His chest expands on a sudden breath like he wasn’t expecting me to acknowledge the truth so easily. He sets the bottle on the surface just behind me, placing his body a little closer to mine. “You made it look easy tonight.”
I rest my hips back against the counter to look up at him. “Itfelteasy tonight. It hasn’t felt that way in a long time.”
“I wish I’d known you were struggling so much in New York.”
This makes me laugh a little. “What would you have done?”
He studies my amusement, eyes raking over my features. “I would have called. Often. Come visit and taken you out like we did last weekend.” The intensity in his voice tells me he’s serious. “I would have tried everything to help. I told you, I’ve wanted to be your friend for a while.”
It’s a nice thought, but I don’t want to tiptoe around whatever this is anymore. I’m ready to bring honesty to the table. “You had every chance to come visit me over the last two years, and you never did.”
“Did I?” He pauses. “Because I think without that breakdown, you never would have let me through the door.”
“Untrue.” I retrieve the wine and take a big swig. “I’ve always wanted to be friends too.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” James takes the bottle from my hand and drinks from it.
“Oh, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!”
“How do you figure?”
I gawk at him. “Because any time I’d call home and FaceTime with the family, you’d leave the room.” I noticed.Every time.But I didn’t realize until this moment just how close attention I was paying to James all these years. “And even when I was here in person, if I so much as hinted at a story of something that happened in New York you’d get up and leave.” I shrug and steal the bottle back. We’re playing tug-of-war. “I took the hint.”
James’s face is startlingly serious, a debate happening behind his dark brown eyes. “You took the wrong hint.”
“What does that mean?”
“It wasn’t New York I didn’t want to hear about, Madison.”
I lightly shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
