“We would’ve fought…”
“And it would’ve blown up in our faces,” Maya finished. She sighed. “I hate that he thinks he got away with it.”
“Ifit was him.”
“Right. But if I see him at our fifteen-year reunion, I’m kicking his ass. He was a creep, letter or no letter.”
I laughed. “I’ll kick his ass with you.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I heard the smile in her voice.
We lay side by side and stared at the ceiling, our conversation petering out into comfortable silence. It smelled like dry-erase markers, lemon cleaner, and Maya’s perfume. The carpet was rough against my skin, and I saw the faint outline of the cats she’d doodled on the whiteboard last year.
This was the exact position we’d laid in last Halloween eve, minus the yoga mats. We’d had our first major breakthrough for the launch event that night, so this seemed like a fitting goodbye for the office.
Maya was right. It was the end of the era, but it was only the start for us—and I couldn’t wait to see what the next chapter looked like.
EPILOGUE
Sebastian
14 months later
THE SOFT OPENING OF MY RESTAURANT TOOK PLACEthe following November. The trees were starting to shed their leaves, and a gust of late-fall air wafted through the door as my hand-selected group of guests arrived one by one or in groups.
“Darling, this place is gorgeous,” my mother said in French. She gave me a double air kiss and swept her gaze around the dining room. “I am so proud of you for opening the best restaurant in the city.”
“The restaurant technically isn’t open yet, Maman,” I said, amused. “You haven’t even tasted the food.”
“Please.” She scoffed. “I’m your mother. I don’t need towaitto know what I said is true. Isn’t that right, Michel?”
My father grunted. He took in his surroundings with a more critical eye, but his frown of concentration smoothed by the time his attention returned to me.
“Papa.”
“Sebastian.” He accepted a welcome drink from the hostess and eyed a group of newcomers. They included the editor-in-chief of a major food trade magazine and Christian Harper and his wife Stella, who was a famous fashion designer in her own right. I hadn’t employed Christian’s services since he helped us take down Whitaker, but he deserved a dinner invite. I wouldn’t have this restaurant if it weren’t for him. “Good turnout.”
“I’m lucky to have a supportive network,” I said.
The past fourteen months had been some of the hardest ofmy life. The food was only a fraction of what went into starting a restaurant. The rest was a nightmare of finances, permits, logistics, and arguments with suppliers and contractors. There were days I wanted to bang my head against the wall or outright quit, but Maya and my friends had carried me through it. Xavier had been particularly helpful, given his experience opening the Vault.
Now, after thirteen months of blood, sweat, and tears, the restaurant was complete. Tonight was for friends, family, and close associates; tomorrow, it would open to the public.
Cold sweat slicked my skin. Opening a restaurant was like tearing off a piece of my soul and offering it to strangers for their consumption and judgment. They might love it, they might hate it, or they might forget all about it.
But it washere. I’d done it, and no matter how the grand opening or subsequent weeks and months went, I was damn proud of myself for not giving up.
“It looks good,” my father said after a pause. “I know pulling this off wasn’t easy. I’m… proud of you.”
I wasn’t chasing his approval anymore, but it still felt good to hear him say it. “Merci, Papa.”
My mother beamed. “See? You were both so moody for no reason.” She patted my cheek. “We’ll let you go. I’m sure you have a lot to do. But I’ll see you and Maya for dinner next week, yes?”
“Of course.” I smiled as she dragged my father over to speak with Maya’s parents.
My mother’s emotional state had improved greatly over the past year. She was still prone to the occasional bout of melancholy, but that was a normal expression of grief. Losing your sister wasn’t something anyone truly got over. Most importantly, she was going to therapy, and her drinking had never edged into worrisome territory.
I really had been projecting my own fears and insecuritiesonto her. In a way, I’d underestimated her the way my father had underestimated me. She was a lot stronger than I’d given her credit for.