“Can I decorate it?” she asked.
His lips parted. She wanted to help?
She shook her head. “I mean, if you don’t want me to, that’s fine. But I have some ideas. I’m thinking we go with dark wood accents—bannister, stairs, bar top. And really deep colors for the artwork. Maybe even a little red as a nod to the…” She tilted her head toward the graffiti.
“We?” he asked. She wanted to be awe, wanted to be involved in his project. He should’ve been scared as shit, but he just felt warm all over.
“I mean, if you want my help. You don’t have to have my help.”
“Yeah, Mar. You can decorate the place.” The words were rough. He swallowed hard. “If I get it.”
She turned her back to the wall, her chest to his. “You have to buy it. You know that, right?”
“I’m still saving.” He stepped back, did another scan of the space. Took the dream out of its box long enough to let it live before he shoved it back inside and locked it up tight.
“I bet Sadie would invest. And Nicole. And Megan. And Rachel.” She listed his sisters. “Sadie would help you like you helped her.”
“I can’t ask them for that.” He shook his head. Buying law books wasn’t the same as helping him buy a building.
“Your mom and dad would help you out, too,” Marlee said softly. “After everything you did for them.”
He shuffled on his feet. Truth was that when he was a teenager, his mom had gotten sick. The kind of sick that took a toll. The kind of sick that meant she was out of commission for two years. The kind of sick that started with acand ended with chemotherapy and radiation. The doctors—and there were a lot of them—weren’t sure she’d beat it. His dad—a great man—had worked his ass off during those years. Two jobs to pay for the health insurance and the bills. A third to put food on the table. Needless to say, Dad wasn’t home.
Eli had four little sisters and a mom who needed more care than his dad could provide working three jobs. Eli was the oldest. He stepped up. Dropped out of everything that sucked up any extra time—guitar lessons, his job as a prep cook at a high-class restaurant downtown, the after-school French classes he’d needed to study gastronomy in the heart of the Parisian culinary world. He had dropped it all so he could take care of his mom and help out with his sisters—run them to ballet, get them to gymnastics, make sure they occasionally ate something that resembled a vegetable.
Marlee knew all that. She’d been there.
She’d even helped him out with a little French after she got back from a monthlong vacation at a villa in Bordeaux.
“Laisse-les t'aider,” she murmured to him, the French filling the air in the musty, graffiti-filled room.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means let them help.” She squeezed his biceps.
After he’d lost the scholarship to Europe, he graduated high school, applied to the local culinary school, and thanked fuck he at least got in there. Then, he became a caterer so he could help put his sisters through college. He wouldn’t ask them for money. He knew how hard it was to rub two pennies together, he wouldn’t ask them to do that for him.
They had their dreams, and now, he was finally going to have his.
Marlee’s hand found his as she dropped her head against his shoulder. “What are you going to do with the other kitchen when you buy this place?”
“I figure I’ll keep the catering company. The restaurant and catering company can work together. Two sources of income are better than one, you know?”
She squeezed his hand. “Look at you, building your own empire.”
He shook off the emotion clogging his throat. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Trish. Show you the kitchen space.”
Marlee followed him to the kitchen, their hands still tethered together. She pulled at his hand to stop him. Then, on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his.
“This is the best first date ever,” she said against his mouth.
Yes, yes, it was. He sifted his hand through her silky hair.
He’d always liked being alone. But he hadn’t had one of his end-of-autumn camping trips since he got married. And he hadn’t missed it, because Marlee filled all the space in his world.
Everything was fine, and he took time to savor it because he knew better than anyone that moments like this could change in an instant.
Chapter Eighteen
