Jeff squeezed his eyes shut and snorted. “It’s not that. It’s more complicated than that.”
I crossed my arms and planted my feet wider. “Emma’s asleep. I’ve got nothing but time.”
Jeff’s lips pressed into a line and his jaw clenched. “It’s . . . hard to explain. I need you to respect what our family needs.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth and debated whether I wanted to keep pushing. Jeff was pissing me off and acting like he owned Emma. But would she have been talking to me if she wasn’t sick? Or was her slow response while I was gone a sign of her pulling away?
Because I didn’t know, I had to let it drop.“Understood.”
“Good.” He patted my shoulder. “Really was nice to meet you, man. We love watching you play.”
I resisted the urge to let my eyes roll into the back of my head. Kick me out of your ex-wife’s house, and then fangirl me? Get fucked.
But for Chef, I’d shut my fucking mouth. “See ya.”
TWENTY-TWO
EMMA
MARCH
I dida double-take in the culinary school’s parking lot. No. It couldn’t be.
Royce’s bike?
I was finally returning to work after the flu laid me flat for six days. It wasn’t until day five that I could sit up long enough to eat the soup Harlan left for me. I barely had a memory of him coming to see me.
But he definitely did. And I knew it was him, because a little origami dog sat on my kitchen counter.
Calling me princess. Sweeping my hair off my face. Bringing me homemade soup—soup that was incredible, I might add. Checking on me because he was afraid no one else was.
But I hadn’t heard from him since. I sent him a thank you for the soup, and he responded with a thumbs up and a “hope it helped.”
When I tried to keep the conversation going, nothing.
It was confusing. He showed up for me when I was at my worst, something I never expected from him in a thousand years.I mean, I hoped for more, but I never would have admitted that to him. It shocked me how much he focused on me that night in the hot tub. How high he got off my pleasure, off being the one to bring me pleasure.
But after a couple of orgasms, a sick visit, and the best chicken and wild rice soup I’d ever had, he pulled back.
So to see what I thought was his bike outside the culinary school really threw me for a loop. Why would he be here now? I needed to book his next lesson, and I planned to after I got back to work. This class was dipping my toe back in the water.
I walked between the work stations, greeting the students as I went. It was an effort to give them the time of day, because all I could think about was the thundering in my chest and the tall head of black hair at the front of the class.
“Chef Royce?” I asked.
“Chef,” he responded, sparing me only a glance. And not one of his little smirky glances either. Just a passing “I see you.” But he wasn’t seeing me. Because if he truly saw me, he’d see how much I missed him annoying me. Hell, I’d have even baked him a cake if he did one of those stupid devil’s advocate discussions he loved to torment me with.
I didn’t realize what a gift his attention could be until he stopped giving it.
But he was here. In my class. Did this mean he didn’t want private lessons anymore? And what did that mean for Liam’s college money?
I scolded myself for worrying about the money Royce brought when the more important thing was having him close again.
But I needed to appear unruffled to the rest of the class, so I rounded my work bench and clicked on the camera.
“Alright, chefs, let’s begin.”
Harlan lingered after class,and I hated the hope it instilled in me. I must have had the strangest expression trying to get the last student to leave, practically shoving them out the door so I could get a minute with Harlan. I glanced down the hallway to find the front desk staff gone as well. Harlan and I were alone.