Instead of answering, I kissed him. “Wait and see.” As he watched me with growing astonishment, I took out a key and opened the front door. “Come on in.” Without waiting for an answer, I left him standing on the sidewalk and entered the empty space.
“Wait. Frisco, dammit, answer me.”
I turned around the corner, facing the doors to the kitchen.
“Frisco, where are you?” I heard Torre call out.
I poked my head around the wall. “Right here. Come over and see.”
Torre joined me, face still a mask of confusion. “What are we doing here?” His dark brows knitted together.
“Discovering the next chapter.”
“You’re making less sense than usual. What’re you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this place. I bought it—the building, in fact. I’m going to renovate it, start a restaurant, and employ the kids from the culinary program I sponsor.” My enthusiasm grew with every word, and I swept my hand through the air up to the soaring ceiling. “Can you see it?”
“You what? Slow down.” He grabbed my hands. “What’re you talking about? You bought what?”
“The building. I talked to Mike this morning, and he’s on board.”
“What’s Mike got to do with it? Start from the beginning and tell me. Slowly, please.”
“Come with me.” I led him to a neglected table, dusted off the seats, and holding both his hands sat, vibrating with excitement—I couldn’t sit still. “Better now?”
“I will be when you explain what you’re talking about.”
“When I discovered my mother was getting married to Luca, I needed to get as far away from them as possible. That’s when I decided that after I graduated college, I’d enroll in culinary school in Paris and afterward in Italy. But then…I might’ve taken my social life more seriously than my schooling and went a little wild.”
“Shocking,” Torre joked, then sobered. “I understand, though. You were still reeling from the betrayal and tried to block it all out by using sex.”
“Perhaps. I was self-destructing; that’s all I know. My father had died, Presley’s parents were dead…” Grief threatened to overwhelm me. “I was on my own, spiraling downward, close to crashing. As soon as I discovered Presley was in love with a married man, I got my shit together, knowing I had a purpose—to rescue Press from his stupidity. So I used some of my father’s contacts, got a job atUltimate, and the rest is history. But deep down…” I stared at the table, seeing nothing. “I never stopped thinking about starting my own restaurant. Getting fired from my job and working with Mike these past months was the best thing to happen to me. It’s like I woke up from a decade-long fog to see what I want now.”
“And that’s this place?”
“This place. A restaurant where we can craft quality food but not charge unreasonable prices.” I squeezed his hands. “See? I learned something from you.”
“We?” Torre’s gaze held mine. “I can’t imagine how I fit into the equation.”
“Well, whatever I do is a part of you now. You’re a part of me.”
His eyes softened and glowed. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I’d better up my game, then. I intend to make each day better than the next.”
He gazed at me with a dreamy smile. “Who are you? You can’t be the same cynical, hard person I met almost a year ago.”
“I’m constantly hard around you.”
“Well, the bad jokes are still the same, I see.” Torre rolled his eyes, then gazed around the space with purpose. “So what are you thinking?”
“Italian, elegant yet casual. Five-star service, but we’ll try and keep the prices down so almost everyone can enjoy.” I pointed to the far wall. “A Negroni bar over there, and the regular bar next to it. A lighter take on the old-school dishes, paying attention to seafood.”
“I like that. And Mike? He’s really going to be in on this too?”
“If we can work it out, which I intend to do. I was thinking we could connect the two restaurants. Keep it all in the family, so to speak.”
Torre sat stunned. “Those words have me believing what’s happening between us is permanent.”
