“Ashford.”
Knox whistled, low. “That’s not a fling. That’s a chapter.”
“It was years ago.”
“And tonight she happens to be catering Ronan’s wedding?”
“Apparently. Her catering company is based in New York.”
“Sterling—”
“Drop it.” Gabriel set his glass on the stone wall.
“Got it,” Knox said, and swirled his own.
They turned together to face the water, the sky bleeding from gold to purple to the deep blue of coming night. Tessa was in New York. She was running a successful business. And one look across a crowded terrace had reminded him how little control he had where she was concerned.
Four years left on the oath suddenly felt impossible.
Chapter 2
TESSA
Tessa madeit to the service entrance before her legs gave out.
She braced her hand against the cool stone wall beside her catering van, the rough texture catching at her palm while her knees threatened to buckle. Gabriel Sterling had been standing at that bar, looking at her with those same green eyes that had haunted her for years, and the confirmation of it knocked the breath from her lungs. Her pulse refused to settle. One look from him, and she was ducking behind a catering van while the fallout stacked up fast—an entire tray of Veuve Clicquot shattered across the stone terrace, with two hundred of New York’s elite watching. They’d remember a dropped champagne tray long after they forgot the bride’s dress.
She wanted to get in her car and drive until Martha’s Vineyard was a dot in her rearview mirror and the miles erased the memory of his face.
Instead, she straightened and walked back into the service kitchen.
David was plating appetizers, calm despite the chaos. He looked up when she came in, and whatever he saw in her face made him pause. “Boss, are you okay?”
“Fine.” The word dropped like a deadbolt, ending the conversation. “What’s our status?”
“Tray service is covered. Jessica’s rotating champagne. We’re ten minutes ahead on the canapé timeline.”
“Good.” Tessa grabbed a clean
apron from the hook and tied it, willing herself to find the rhythm of routine. “I’ll coordinate from back here. You run the front of the house.”
David studied her face with the measuring look he’d developed after five years of working together. He knew something was wrong, and he was smart enough not to press her.
“I’ve got this.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened the service timeline. The familiar spreadsheet was a lifeline. “The ferry leaves at nine-thirty. We need to hit every time mark to make load-out on time.” She looked up. “Go.”
He went.
She spent the next few hours in the back kitchen coordinating everything. She called timing. She checked the plating. She communicated with the venue staff about table turns and drink service. She did everything except go back out to that terrace where Gabriel Sterling might still be standing.
Her team was flawless. They’d worked together long enough to read her signals and anticipate her standards, and they knew that perfection wasn’t a goal but a baseline. The dinner service flowed seamlessly, each course arriving exactly on schedule, food plated with precision, garnishes placed with the skill of surgeons. Plates were cleared without a single misstep.
By eight fifteen, the bride and groom were cutting cake while guests cheered under string lights that had turned the terrace into something from a fairy tale. By eight forty-five, the final dessert plates had been cleared, and by nine fifteen, Tessa’s team had packed the last crate into the vans.
David found her doing a final walkthrough in the service kitchen, running her fingers across surfaces that were already spotless. “We’re loaded. Ferry in ten.”
“The terrace?”
“Spotless. Checked twice.”
