Smith
Despite my restaurant having a fan-fucking-tastic soft opening last week for critics and chefs around Manhattan, I’ve been a miserable son of a bitch the last few weeks.
Whipping a restaurant into shape in time for an opening is a whole beast within itself, but add to it my horrible moods and pissed off attitude, and I’ve been a raging cloud of negativity looming over everyone’s heads. I’m short with my family, my mother yelled at me the other day for missing a dinner, Campbell can’t stand me and wants me to stop berating the new wait and kitchen staff. Peter told me I was a bastard the other day when I told him he was a fool to get married, and Justin and I are officially not on speaking terms since I wrote him an email in which I told him I was in love with Molly, and he was a moron for doing that to her. It was a chump move; I know that, doing it over email, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him in person. Not that we were really close any longer, after what he did leaving us all to move halfway across the world.
All in all, I was turning my life into a living hell, all because I couldn’t man up and talk to the one person I needed to, to make things right.
I think about Molly night and day. I think about what I should say to her, and then my mind gets rolling, and the tangents just splinter off. Even in my own rehearsed speeches, I get defensive and cruel, and I’m not going to her until I can get my temper under control. She’s fucking right, she deserves better than that.
Stefania’s opening looming over my head is not helping; the pressure I feel to get this place right in every aspect to honor Steph is insurmountable. I feel a crushing weight on my shoulders every day, wanting to make every single detail perfect. While the soft opening went well, it wasn’t with the full operation in swing, and that can always run off the rails quickly if not managed properly. While I have this much stress on me, I can do nothing but dig myself a deeper hole with Molly if I went to see her.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. In reality, it’s because I’m so in love with the woman that if she can’t move past this, if I can’t convince her to give me one last shot, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. It’s that catch twenty-two of wanting something so bad, but refraining because failure would be an even worse option.
The restaurant is buzzing with decorators, PR people, waiters, kitchen staff and some of our family members. It’s officially the opening night of Stefania, and we’re having a massive party to kick it off. All of Campbell and my nearest and dearest are attending, as well as industry professionals we know and some New York’s finest restaurant critics.
I’m staring down at the finalized menu, Campbell’s going on and on about steaming wine glasses, when it all clicks into place.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I say to no one in particular.
“Huh?” Campbell says, confused at my question.
“One of the most important women in my life can’t be here, for obvious reason. Steph would have loved this. She would have critiqued the damn thing the entire night, but she would have been flattered to pieces. And since she can’t be here, she would be chewing my ear out for not having the woman I love here.”
Campbell is still staring at me like I have three heads when I throw the menu down onto the table.
“I have to call an Uber.” I jab my fingers into the screen of my phone.
“Uh, what? We’re opening in half an hour. This brand new restaurant we’re launching is having its opening night in half an hour.” My business partner waves his hands in front of my face like I’m having a mental breakdown.
Maybe I am, but I choose to call it a breakthrough. “I have to go get Molly.”
“Smith, just wait a minute, calm down—” Campbell is trying to put on that soothing demeanor, and it’s not going to work with me.
“No. I’m going to get her,” I say, and walk out of the restaurant.
My Uber is minutes away, and I know Campbell might come out here to try and stop me, but he won’t succeed. Sometimes, it takes you years to work things out in your head. Whether it’s parental issues, competitive streaks, grief, heartbreak … whatever it may be. And sometimes, it comes into focus all in one nanosecond. As I was staring down at that damn burrata salad, I just knew.
All of the bullshit that has been holding me back, the jealousy, insecurities, mourning, fear—it just melted away. I want Molly, and nothing else matters. I’m in love with her, and I’ve waited too damn long at this point to waste another minute being petty and ridiculous. So yes, sometimes it took a good long while, and sometimes it was simply instinct in one second. Kind of like the way I fell in love with her at first sight.
I’m able to jump into my Uber undeterred, though I’m sure Campbell is calling my siblings for backup to get my ass back to Stefania. It’s a torturous twenty-minute ride over to her apartment, and I rifle through every apology there is in my brain as the car zooms through the streets. I have so much to make up to her, and I just pray to God she can hear it and accept it.
I hope like hell that she can love me the way I love her.
I’m pounding on her door, my fist knocking against the flimsy wood, my heart damn near beating out of my chest. A shuffle behind the door, the lock flips, and then she’s standing there, drop-dead gorgeous in reading glasses and sweat pants.
“Hi.” I breathe reverently, because it’s been a while since my eyes drank her in.
“Smith?” Molly looks genuinely confused. “Wait a minute, why are you here? Isn’t tonight—”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus Christ, I’ve been such a fucking idiot. I should have come here weeks ago. Shit, I should have come to your bedroom that very night.” I’m breathing heavy from running up all those flights, from flying over here with adrenaline pumping in my veins.
Her hazel orbs bulge, genuine shock meeting my gaze, and I’m fully aware that I probably look insane right now.
“I don’t … isn’t Stefania opening tonight?” Someone must have told her, but I don’t know why she thinks that’s relevant in the least right now.
I grip the doorjamb, leaning in as much as she’ll let me because she hasn’t invited me inside. “I didn’t lose you to him. I didn’t lose you to anyone but my own horrible actions. I’m so fucking sorry, Molly. I lost you because I was a selfish, grief-clouded prick who couldn’t see past his own needs to take care of your heart. My brain was all fucked up from your relationship with Justin, from losing my sister, from fearing that I loved you more than you could love me. But none of that matters, it doesn’t. It’s just bullshit. The one thing that remains is that I love you, and I know you, to your core. You’re the best woman, not to mention person, I’ve ever known. Everything you touch is made better, you make me better. And if you can give me one more chance, I promise that I’ll show you every single day just how much I cherish you. Just how much I’ve loved you, just how much I knew you were the other half of me since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I have a lot to prove to you, Molly, but please. Be with me. Love with me. Jesus, fight with me. Fight for me. Nothing else matters.”
I feel depleted after the last word leaves my lips, but that’s all of it. Every truth is laid out between us, and I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff waiting for her answer.
And Molly just starts laughing. Giggling at first, quietly, and then the laughs roll out of her, until tears are streaming down her face.
“Only you. Only you, Smith. Only you could make me want to hit you and kiss you at the same time. You drive me crazy, which is not a natural reaction for me! I’m even-keeled, and you knock me off my axis. How can I want to give into everything you’re saying, while I’ve cursed your name for weeks? It makes no sense!” She just keeps laughing.
“Because you love me,” I tell her.
“I should throw you off my doorstep, it’s been weeks! I’ve been crying over you for weeks. And yet, I want to drag you inside.” Her eyes become serious, but she’s still got that goofy grin.
“Beca
use you love me,” I repeat it, hoping that if I’m determined enough in saying it, it will come true.
“You come here, pour your heart out, and just expect me to take you back without hesitation?” Molly all but stomps her foot.
“No, not without hesitation. But yes, because you love me.” I lean in, our noses practically touching.
“And I’ll just break down and do it. Because … I love you.” She shrugs, as if she can’t help it.
That’s all it takes to have me backing her into her apartment and covering her mouth with mine. The kiss is intense, and she throws her arms around my neck, holding tight. I grip her waist, pulling her into me as close as I can. I want to get lost in her, this kiss the first where I know without a doubt that she loves me.
But there is one thing we have to do first. I break off, sucking in a lungful of breath.
“Will you come with me? There is no one else I want to share this night with. Stephanie would have loved you like a sister, she always told me I should just own up to my feelings for you. Please, Mol. Come with me to the restaurant?”
Her smile, tearful and joyful all at the same time, is the same honest expression I fell in love with every day for the last year and a half.
“Of course. That’s what you do for the person you love.”
39
Molly
Smith is lucky I was already showered.
It takes me a hasty twenty minutes to choose an outfit, throw some makeup on my face and make sure my hair doesn’t look like a rat’s nest. I’m not particularly high maintenance, but for a night like this I would have taken a good hour to primp myself.
This feels more whirlwind though, exactly the way it should feel when you’re madly in love in New York City and making decisions on a whim with the man who holds your heart.
When he showed up at my door, the pounding of his fist interrupting my going on three-hour Hart of Dixie marathon, I was flabbergasted. It was the last thing I expected, especially since I’d gone out to dinner with Marta just days before and she filled me in on the opening of Stefania. I thought about Smith throughout the night, hoping that he was in a good head space for the launch of the restaurant. It had to be emotional for him, but I knew he wouldn’t be going through with it if it wasn’t a perfect honor to his late twin.
The words he said to me, the apologies he gave … they were the ones I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been half a person since the night of his birthday, and here he was in front of me, giving me back the thing that lit up the organ in my chest. I don’t want to fight that anymore; like Smith said, I want to fight for him. I want to fight for us.
Clearly, we still have a lot of things to talk over. One grand gesture apology does not make up for some very harsh words and weeks of waiting for resolution. There are still lifestyles to mesh together, schedules to work around, and this isn’t the summer. We’re going to be busier than ever, and it will be a lot of work to maintain a relationship.
But he’s the one I want. If I’ve learned anything in our time apart, it’s that Smith wasn’t a rebound, or a summer fling. He’s the man I was always supposed to be with, the one that it took me a couple wrong turns and some animosity to get to.
Telling him I’m in love with him felt like I was allowing myself to finally be me. It wasn’t just about matching his feelings, though I’m so glad he now knows that I love him just as much as he loves me, but in doing so, I stepped into who I’m truly meant to be.
As it is, we show up an hour late to his restaurant opening. Smith filled me in on the way over, about how he was staring at the menu, and suddenly his mind cleared. It seems that, for him, things happen all at once. He knew he loved me the minute he saw me. He knew he didn’t want to go to college, so he went to work. He wanted to open a restaurant, so he did it. He knew, staring down at that menu, that it was the moment to grovel back to me.
For me, things happened more gradually, but I couldn’t deny that I’ve fallen head over heels for him. We’ll figure the rest out later.
Smith has his hand on my back as we walk in, and the restaurant is packed.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” I gasp quietly.
I’ve never been to Italy, but this is what I imagine a posh restaurant in the middle of Rome would look like. There are brick wall accents and cool modern light fixtures. A massive bar covers a whole wall, it’s glass bottles shining in the dim mood lighting. The bar top looks like it’s made of one whole trunk of a tree, sanded down to be made smooth. There is a massive fireplace raging on the wall across from the bar, and the gold chairs gleam at the sturdy tables dotting the floor.
“I tried really hard with this one. I think Steph would call it adequate.” Smith chuckles self-deprecatingly.
“Jesus, there you are!” A tall, brawny man with a buzz cut speed walks over to us.
“Campbell, this is Molly. Molly, my business partner. I fear he may take me off into a corner and chew me out, so excuse his behavior.”
Campbell looks on the verge of yelling at Smith no matter who is within earshot, and I’m a little intimated because this guy is no chump. He looks like he could detach that tree trunk from the top of the bar and throw it across the room.
And then someone calls my name, and I see Heather floating across the room. “Mol!”
I’m genuinely confused to see my best friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Marta invited me the other day, and I figured even if I didn’t like the dude whose restaurant it is, I’m not saying no to a free martini and passed appetizers.”
Smith snorts beside me. “Glad to know that’s all it takes to get on your good side.”
“My question is, what the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes laser beam down at Smith and my now interlaced fingers.
I shrug. “The guy who owns the restaurant kind of did the hero apology thing.”
My best friend is quiet for a moment, and then walks over to pat Smith on the shoulder. “Good job, Mr. Big. Just don’t hurt her again, or I’ll take a corkscrew to your balls.”
“Noted.” Smith’s blue eyes dance with amusement. “Heather, this is Campbell, my business partner.”
Heather finally takes stock of the other man standing in our little huddle, and I know the instant she checks him out. She’s interested, I’ve seen her do this subtle head nod every time she has a man in her line of sight.
“Nice to meet you.” Campbell’s eyes linger on Heather’s body, and I read the sexual chemistry pouring off each of them.
“And you.” She flutters her eyelashes.
“Can I interest you in one of our signature cocktails?” he asks, escorting her away with his hand on the small of her back.
“Uh-oh.” I chuckle, moving in conspiratorially toward Smith. “What did we just do?”
“Hopefully, a little bit of match-making, if not get each of them laid for at least one night.” He grins.
“And I think you just avoided being chewed out.”
Smith pulls me into him, nuzzling my ear as our bodies press against each other. “This night is going to be a whirlwind, so I apologize if I can’t be with you every second. But before we get sucked into the crowd, I have to tell you, I am so in love with you, Molly.”
The smile on my face is so goofy and delirious, I’m kind of happy my expression is buried in his shoulder.
He wasn’t lying when he said the opening would be hectic. I went through the first couple of introductions with Smith, but then he started getting into the nitty-gritty professional talk with some of the city’s brightest restauranteurs, and I couldn’t just stand by and listen.
I found myself talking with his mother, his brothers and sisters, and our summer house friends. They were all surprised, but then again not, to see me at the opening. When his mom hugged me in greeting, she whispered in my ear and said that she knew her son would make things right.
He’d be a fool not to fall in love with a woman like you. That’s what she told me.
As my ey
es lock with Smith’s across the room toward the end of the night, my stomach gives a little flutter. Because I know I get to go home with that man, and we have a lot of making up to do.
40
Smith
“Do you need my jacket?”
I wrap my arm around Molly’s shoulders, and her skin is cool to my touch.
She shakes her head, looking out on the twinkling cityscape. “No, I kind of like the cold. It means winter is coming, and winter in the city is my favorite season.”
Funny, it’s mine, too. “The bustle of the holidays, the snow on the garbage piles, the sardine crowds in Rockefeller Center.”
Molly grins. “Yep, I love it all.”
In the background, the notes of a Frank Sinatra song travel through the party, and some people sway on the dance floor under the twinkling lights that serve as a ceiling to the rooftop. One of those couples is Jacinda and Peter, clearly enjoying their own engagement party on the outdoor top floor venue of a beautiful Tribeca hotel. I thought they were a little crazy for doing an outdoor rooftop party in October, but now I kind of get the draw.
Even though the night is cold, they have those industrial heaters set up all around the party. The vibe of it is pure Jacinda, both edgy and relaxed all at the same time. And you can’t beat the twinkling lights of the city below, and the view of the bridges out on the Hudson.
“We’ll be able to spend Christmas together this year.” I pull her farther into me, so that her front is pressed against the railing, and I’m shielding her from the wind at our backs.
“Promise me you’ll brave the crowds at the Bryant Park winter village. I love skating on that ice rink.” She snuggles back into me.
“Only for you.” I chuckle.
It’s been a month since we got back together, and our relationship is even better than the summer. Because we talk about our issues, or insecurities that we have being with each other. A lot of those have faded as we’ve gotten more comfortable, and being in the city helps. There is something about being back in our natural living and working environments that makes our connection and the time we spend with each other feel more real. The beach house, and the way we fell in love, was incredible, but it also felt like we had rose-colored glasses on throughout our stay there. The reason we all went to the Hamptons was to live out a summer fairy tale, to escape the pressure of reality, and so Molly and I ended up doing the same when it came to us.
Love at First Fight Page 18