by PE Kavanagh
The irony is that we would have probably had a lifelong friendship, if it hadn’t been ruined by forcing it to be romantic.”
“What exactly ended the marriage?”
I hoped I wasn’t being too intrusive, but the curiosity was killing me.
“My career started taking off right after the boys were born so I left the firm I was working for and decided to start my own. I built this very successful company from nothing but the price was time away from my family. It was really painful for me and Anna was very unhappy to be alone most of the time with our two boys while I was traveling the world.
She thought it was very glamorous but the reality is that it was brutally hard work. Because all the intimacy was gone, she was convinced I was having an affair, or many affairs, I don’t know. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. I couldn’t handle how she questioned everything I did. Every interaction we had felt like an interrogation. I couldn’t do anything right, in her eyes.”
“Were you?”
“Was I?” He didn’t understand.
“Were you having an affair?”
“No, Monique. No, I wasn’t and it wasn’t because I didn’t have the opportunity or even the desire. It was because I didn’t want to be that person. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for me to have someone in my bed, every night if I wanted. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Anyway, she wouldn’t believe me and she… she… had an affair. She says it was to spite me. I don’t know. It involved someone very close to me and that was the end. I couldn’t…”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.
“Did she stay with this guy?”
“Oh, no. He wasn’t interested in that. He just wanted to have her and spite me.”
“Wow. This doesn’t sound like a very good friend, Marco.”
“No, it wasn’t a friend. It was actually my brother.”
My face froze in shock and disbelief.
“Holy shit, Marco! That is… too much to believe. Do you still speak?”
“Of course. We are family. And frankly, that’s who he is, Monique. He… I don’t want to defend him but now I know better. That’s all.”
Nothing I could have said would be worthy or appropriate, so I stayed silent.
He startled me with the first words after our quiet moment.
“That feels good.”
I’d been gently stroking his chest and stomach.
“Your skin, Marco. It’s the color of the most perfectly buttery caramel.”
“I wish I was nearly as delicious as you make me sound.”
I bet you are.
“You take very good care of your body. It’s very impressive. You must spend hours at the gym.”
“Not really hours, but I do go. I like the feeling of finding my limits. And pushing them. What I really love is soccer. I try to play a few times a week with a league I'm in. They’re all much younger than I am so I get quite a good workout.”
He paused as if looking for the right words.
“Do you like my body?”
I dropped my jaw, awed at his courage to say what I would have found impossible.
“Marco, your body is… flawless. You are a very handsome man.”
He tilted my face up to look in my eyes. I realized for the first time, in the bright sunlight, that our eyes were the same color. An unusual hazel hue that I rarely saw. Mine was from one brown-eyed and one blue-eyed parent. Maybe his were too.
“I'm very happy you think that, Bella. You know I think you are remarkable – physically and otherwise.”
“Thank you.” Keeping it simple forced me to swallow all the denials I would have expressed.
I slid my face back down and kissed his chest several times before settling back into a contented quiet.
The tone of our relationship shifted, becoming much softer and more intimate. We connected like adults who’d acknowledged their attraction for each other. He held me, either on the lounger or in the water, where I let myself sink into his supportive arms and set all my insecurities free. I hadn’t been with a man like this in so long, but Marco was making it feel easier than any man in my life ever had. The idea that this was too good to be true never strayed more than a moment away from my thoughts, however.
The afternoon passed too quickly, and soon it was time for me to get ready for Nora's meeting. We’d been laying on the lounger, in and out of luxurious naps. It was excruciating to pull myself out of his arms.
“I have to go now, Marco. Nora has a reception tonight, and I promised I would make an appearance.”
He held me against him. “I understand, Bella, although I would happily spend the rest of the day here with you.”
I forced myself to separate our bodies. “It was so nice to spend the day with you, like this, so relaxed.”
“And it's only a few hours until we see each other again, right?”
Was he questioning whether I still wanted to see him later? His modesty kept surprising me.
“Of course. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
I noticed him gathering his belongings. “You don't have to leave on my account. Stay, and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”
“I will walk you to your room, if you don't mind.”
The chivalry was really working for me. We strolled back inside, never losing touch with each other. He paused uncomfortably when we got to my door. He couldn’t possibly be nervous about kissing me goodbye, could he?
“I want to ask you something.”
“You are a man of many questions, Marco.”
His laugh lightened the tension. “I want to invite you to the wedding. As my guest. Actually your sisters too. What do you think?”
I must have had the most dumbfounded expression on my face, as if I had suddenly gone deaf and mute, which caused him to repeat the whole thing.
Still, I had to ask, “You want me to be your date for the wedding? Don’t you already have a date?” What a stupid question.
“Well, I was going to go with my sister, but she had to cancel at the last minute, because two of the kids are sick. Does that mean you will come?”
“I’m just so surprised, Marco. Can you really do that?”
“Of course I can. Besides, this is Vegas. Half the casino floor will probably be crashing anyway.”
I paused, lost for words. “I would love to go, but I have to check with the girls, of course. And Nora's award ceremony on Sunday...”
“The wedding does not start until that night, after Nora's event.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven't you?”
“I doubt it. But I want you to come with me. If you want to.”
“I don't see why not. I'll let you know for sure tonight, after I talk to the girls. And none of us have anything to wear!” The extent of my idiocy couldn’t be overstated.
“You’re kidding, right? I would be very happy if you wore those shorts from last night. Although I might not be such a gentleman next time around.”
I caught my breath, and he noticed. If this man knew how much I wanted him, he would run screaming from this hotel.
“Thank you, Marco. For the invitation. It really is too kind. Like everything you've done...”
“Maybe I am pursuing pleasure as well,” he said, provocatively.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” I said as I opened the door to my room. I turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Nora's event passed in a daze. I tried to be present, but I kept thinking about my afternoon with Marco. What would our dinner date bring? And was it too much time together? Would he grow tired of me?
Since I was going to be coming directly from Nora's dinner I told Marco I’d meet him at dinner. He was not happy about that, finding it lacking in courtesy. He wanted to pick me up from my room but I insisted. It would save us time.
When the time came, I wished I’d had time to go up to the room and freshen up. This was going to be an important
night, I hoped.
As I approached, I saw him standing at the entrance to the restaurant, wearing the most beautiful suit I had ever seen. He could have easily been a superstar. Almost too handsome to be real.
He beamed at me as I got closer. I supposed he approved of my choice for that night, a burgundy silk crepe with a bit of flounce and a requisite display of leg. I wore my lucky shoes. I felt good.
“It has only been a few hours, Bella, but it feels like a new day to see you again. And again more beautiful than the last time. I believe you must be magical.”
“Thank you.” I moved toward him and offered two lingering kisses, one on each cheek. You look wonderful,” I added as I gently stroke the lapels of his suit. All I could think about was taking it off him. Yes, tonight was going to be our night.
Chapter Twelve
Dinner Date
The restaurant was breathtaking. Sleek and modern, in just my aesthetic, while still being utterly romantic. This was an inspired choice and was nearly impossible to get a reservation, I had heard. Emile had mentioned this place, and apparently told the chef that I might be coming. He’d set up an introduction, if I chose to pursue it. I wasn’t sure tonight was the right time to engage with the chef and do some networking. My other needs were currently taking precedence over my career.
Dinner was nearly flawless. I laughed so hard that I literally cried. The conversation stopped only when a moment of silence is what we wanted. We talked about family and pleasure and beauty. He talked about his kids - they sounded like amazing men - and I offered funny stories about my girls.
I even told him about the reality of my career. How I was at a crossroads and had been dishonest about what I said on the plane. “I used to be a chef,” I told him apologetically. “Now, I’m back to being an apprentice.”
“No my dear, I don't believe you. You are a chef. It is clear in every cell of your body. Maybe that is not what you are doing now, but it is always who you are being.”
He took my breath away. I wanted to say, let's get out of this fabulous restaurant and go up to your fabulous room. There I want you to take me completely and listen when I tell you that I love you. You are too good to be true and yet here you are. With me.
Nothing came out of my mouth. What could I say?
“Did you talk to your sisters about the wedding?” A welcome change of subject.
“Yes, and it works out perfectly.”
“Yes, Nora’s ceremony ends at five and the wedding starts at six. You will all come. I think Lizzy already accepted Esteban's invitation.”
“Yes, my baby sister is smitten.”
“They both are.”
This was wonderful. I was dying to go the wedding, wondering what Marco would be like in a sea of eligible single women, as can be found at most weddings. This was good. Really good.
“Marco, this is so generous of you, to invite us all. Are you sure it’s ok… all these extra guests at the last minute? I know what it's like to plan a wedding.”
“Remember, it's Las Vegas, Bella. They expect to invite most of the hotel.”
“Thank you. Now I have a purpose for the inevitable shopping trip tomorrow.”
“I suppose that means no silver shorts?”
“Correct. They’ve had their one airing, and will now be permanently retired.”
“Maybe I can negotiate a private viewing?”
Now it was my turn to change the subject. “Will you be stuck in the rehearsals all day?”
“Part of the day, yes. But I will still have plenty of time for you, don't worry.” A wink and that smile again. “Then we have the rehearsal dinner but I don't think it will go very late. Is that okay?”
“Of course it's okay. You are free to do as you wish, as far as I know. And I do realize that your sole purpose for being in Las Vegas is not actually my entertainment. I’m fine with it. Really.” I hoped he got my humor.
“Thank you for being so considerate and understanding.” His sly smile indicated he was in on the joke. “I promise to make it up to you. In whatever way you wish.”
This was getting juicy. “Well there's nothing to make up, but I appreciate the offer, which I might accept anyway.” Hot. Very hot. All the innuendo tickled the middle of my body again.
Dinner was coming to an end and I needed to decide. Would I reach out to the chef while I had the opportunity, or would I bypass it to stay present to the man in front of me? I was torn. And then the door opened.
Marco called our server over and started to transmit a message to the chef about his enjoyment of his dish. How tender the lamb was, and the perfection of the accompaniments. His eloquence and grace made an impression on the waiter and me.
I hadn’t told Marco about my connection, but when the server was about to walk away with the message, I stopped him. “Actually…” I said, “would you mind telling the chef that Monique Malone is here? Oh, and that I really enjoyed my meal as well. It was spectacular.”
“Does Chef Turot know you?” the server asked with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, he is expecting me,” I responded.
“Yes, yes I will tell him right away.”
I turned to find Marco staring at me.
“You are remarkable.”
“Why?”
“You know the chef and you didn't say anything. What else are you hiding from me? You are really some celebrity chef, and probably have your own restaurants around the world. And a reality show, right?”
“Very funny. Marco, I’m sure you are much more famous than I will ever be. It's just that my old friend Emile, who is nearly a celebrity, wanted me to meet some people while I was here. To further my reentry back into the wild world of food. He is the well-connected one, not me.”
Marco shook his head at me, thinking I was being falsely modest. But I wasn’t. I really was a nobody.
Out came the chef, out to prove me wrong. A jovial round man, who might have been Santa Claus in a previous life, came barreling toward us all arms and smiles.
“Monique, Monique, I am so glad you came! What a wonderful surprise! How is Emile? That rascal still causing trouble everywhere he goes? Oh my goodness, this is so wonderful!”
I had just assumed he was French, like Emile, but the accent was definitely Spanish. He picked me up out of my chair and gave me a great big bear hug. For a moment I thought he might not let go. What a warm wonderful man, so different than the typically manic and antisocial chef.
“Emile tells me you are thinking of going back into the fire. Brave choice! I don't know that I would do it,” he laughed and patted his significant belly. Definitely Santa Claus. “Anything I can do to help, I’m happy to. But I will miss your articles in the magazine. You are such a good writer. If you wrote a book, I would read it. Maybe you can still write on the side, even though I know already that is ridiculous. To be a chef takes a whole life!”
“Thank you so much, Chef. Your restaurant is beyond description. And everything was perfect. My friend Marco also sent you a message about his dish.”
Marco stood up and greeted the chef in Spanish. They kissed on both cheeks, in that way I found so sexy. I was quickly left behind in the trails of Spanish. They spoke as if they were long lost friends, so happy to meet another Latin comrade. I could decipher only a few words of each sentence. Perhaps they were talking about the towns they came from. Or not. My Spanish was abysmal.
They both turned to look at me and continued speaking. Uh oh, I didn’t like this, but I did hear something about beautiful woman, talented chef. They were having a Monique adoration society meeting. This was getting embarrassing. Marco took my hand and kissed it. What the heck was going on now?
Another flurry of words, followed by laughing and hugging. I really better get my Rosetta Stone Spanish lessons out of the closet again. Or maybe I will have my own private tutor? Hopeful again…
Marco took my hand, and said, “Yes, I know I am a very lucky man.”
“My dear, I am so glad you
were able to come in. We might not have time tonight but I would love to talk to you anytime. I really mean it. The way Emile speaks of you, I know you have something special. You need to be in a major kitchen feeding the people!”
I was stunned. I didn’t want to overreact in front of either of these men, but I was all shrieks and celebrations on the inside. I felt like some switch had been turned on in my life, and all of a sudden amazing men and world-class chefs found me fabulous. It was almost too much for me to take in.
I promised to re-connect with the chef and felt incredibly grateful to Emile. It was a pleasant surprise to hear how well Emile thought of me. And I knew it wasn't because I was a great lover.
“Tell me about Emile. He is a friend of yours?”
I had to be strategic about answering. Our history was complicated.
“Emile and I met my first day in culinary school. Our new class was being shown around as he entered one of the rooms, and the head of the school stopped mid-sentence to hug and kiss him. They were both quintessentially French.
Apparently, he had funded part of the newest wing, and was a regular fixture in the school. He noticed me right away, claiming I was one of the few attractive women in culinary school.”
I averted my eyes, realizing the conceit in my statement.
“I have no idea about how the women look in culinary school, but you, Monique, stand out in any group.”
I gave him a slightly embarrassed smile and continued.
“Emile sat with our small group at mealtimes, and we fell into an easy friendship. He became my mentor, my confidante and my greatest cheerleader. I never really understood what he saw in me in those early days, but he claimed he had a nose for genius and he could smell it on me. As I finished school, and embarked on my career, our relationship changed and we became more like peers. He asked my advice on chefs, restaurants and investments. Even personal stuff. We hung out like old friends or family. People often thought we were related. Emile is one of the most important people to me, and I'm so grateful for his presence in my life.”