A betrayal of trust. Maybe not even Alex's considerablecharm could smooth that over, and then this whole dream wouldpoof, vanish because I couldn't keep my hands to myself.
The realtor continues pointing things out enthusiastically. "And this entire wall of windows actually opens," she says, demonstrating the mechanism. "You can see how they accordion fold to the side. Creates this beautiful indoor-outdoor flow for the warmer months."
She shows us the mechanism and Alex nods, looking pleased.
"And Doug?" my father asks, turning to the realtor. "He's confirmed he's willing to include the commercial kitchen equipment in the sale price? I spoke with him on the phone before flying out but I know he had that board meeting this afternoon and couldn't join us."
She nods. "Yes, he specifically wanted me to tell you he'll happily include all the equipment—it's all high-end, well-maintained, and most of it is less than three years old. He'd rather it go to someone who'll actually use it than try to sell it separately. And of course, he's looking forward to dinner tonight so you can discuss the finer details."
My father nods, satisfied. Tonight we're all having dinner with Doug Hanson, the man who owns this building and is selling it. Another restaurateur like my father, part of that exclusive club of people who've built empires in this industry.
I think I've met him once at some charity dinner in New York—older guy, successful, a bit full of himself in that way successful men often are. Should be interesting enough with all the restaurant industry talk, though Doug struck me as somewhat tedious the one time I met him. At least Alex will be there to make it bearable.
"Isabelle," my father calls, gesturing me over to where he and Alex are standing. "Come here. You see this entire section where the bar is currently positioned? This is all critical when you're scouting locations. You want to really think about sightlines, about how customers will move through the space, where the energy naturally flows. These details matter enormously."
I nod, walking over and trying to look interested. But my mind keeps drifting to Alex being here in Seattle, me being stuck in New York, and how miserable I'm going to feel separated like that.
I want to run back to Napa with Alex, back to our bubble away from the real world, back to the California sun and the vineyard paths and our cottages where we could just be together without my father's controlling, suffocating presence looming over everything. But I smile and nod at whatever he's saying, all the while feeling like I'm being pulled in two different directions and about to be torn in half.
Doug and my father are standing outside the restaurant on the patio, both on their phones, gesturing emphatically while talking to the realtor's office to hammer out some final details about the building inspection timeline and closing costs. Which means Alex and I are suddenly alone at the table, watching them through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"I'm going to say something crazy," Alex says quietly, glancing at me after checking to make sure my father is still occupied through the window.
"You always say crazy things, though you usually don't give me a heads-up beforehand," I say, sipping my wine. "The warning is new. Should I be concerned?"
"Well, I think you'll definitely want the warning on this one." He looks at me seriously. "I want to tell your father the truth. About us."
I actually gape at him, my wine glass freezing halfway to my mouth like I've been turned to stone mid-movement.
He smiles a bit, though he looks mildly concerned by my reaction. "You alright there? You've stopped blinking."
"I think I just had an aneurysm," I say dryly, setting my glass down carefully before I drop it. "Have you lost your mind completely?"
"I wouldn't do it if you aren't okay with it," he says gently. "I'd never blindside you like that. But I want you to know that I think it's the right call. I think we can make him understand with a little time and the right conversation. It’s worse if he finds out any other way. And if telling him means Seattle falls apart, then it falls apart. I'm okay with the consequences."
He squeezes my hand under the table and continues. "It's feeling more and more uncomfortable to build a restaurant on a lie, especially with how serious this is for me. Hiding a casual fling is one thing—that's nobody's business but ours. But hiding how I actually feel about you is something else entirely, and I don't like it."
I feel dizzy with the weight of it all, with what he's saying and what it means and all the ways this could go catastrophically wrong.
"I just…” I start, uncertain of what to even say. “You've wanted this restaurant since before you ever met me. And I saw how much you loved that building today. You're saying if it falls apart it falls apart, like it's nothing, but Alex, I am not going to be the reason your dream dies."
"It wouldn't die because of you," he says firmly, leaning closer "It would die because your father can't handle the idea of his adult daughter making her own choices about her own life. That's on him,notyou."
"The end result is exactly the same," I say, frustration bleeding through. "You lose Seattle. You lose this perfect opportunity. And you lose it because you were involved with me, which means I'm the cause whether you want to frame it thatway or not. And I refuse to carry that weight, Alex. I won't do it."
"I can still make Seattle work," he says, and there's a quiet determination in his voice. "I have money saved, and I could get a loan for the rest. There are options without your father. It wouldn't be as easy, and it wouldn't be as big as what he's offering, but I could still do it."
I shake my head, feeling my throat tighten. "You said yourself that my father's backing was bigger than anything you could do on your own. That was the whole reason you finally decided to leave Harbor & Ash. Without him, it's a downgrade from what you actually want."
He's quiet for a moment, still holding my hand under the table, hidden from view, his fingers warm and steady against mine.
"I want to be really clear about how I feel about you," he says slowly. "The restaurant is something I've wanted for a long time, yeah. Though if I'm being completely honest, it's probably been more about ego and proving myself than I like to admit."
He pauses, the server passes our table with a tray of drinks for another booth, and we both wait until they're out of earshot, both of us automatically shifting slightly apart before resuming our conversation.
"You've become everything to me." His voice drops lower. "And if keeping this secret risks dooming our possible future together, if it builds a foundation of lies that could collapse later, then I'd rather just deal with the fallout now and know where we stand. I'd rather lose the restaurant and keep you than the other way around."
I feel the warmth in that, the sincerity. Part of me wants to sink into it, let myself believe it could work out that simply. But it's tainted by the very real risk to him, to everything he's worked for, and I can't ignore that. I can't let him sacrificesomething this important and then watch him resent me for it later, even if he doesn't think he would.