A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series)

by Grace, Sorcha

  “So how is your William?” Minerva asked, as though reading my thoughts. “You are cooking for him, ja? That is a good sign. He’s handsome, that one.” She smiled almost dreamily. I loved that even my nearly eighty-year-old neighbor wasn’t immune to William’s charm and good looks.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her the torte was going to be the only thing I cooked. It was the thought that counted, right?

  When the torte was in the AGA, I made Minerva a cup of coffee and we leaned on the kitchen counter. “So are the two of you in love?” she asked.

  I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. “Am I that obvious?” I asked.

  “Only because I know you. You would not cook for just anyone. It must be love.”

  I wanted to believe that. “How did you know you loved Mr. Himmler?”

  “Ha. Some days I’m not certain I do love Hans. The man can be infuriating.”

  I thought of Hans in his brown cardigan, sitting in the chair by the fire, quietly reading the paper. He didn’t look infuriating.

  Minerva continued. “Is love something you know, Catherine, or something you decide? Your heart”—she touched her chest—“has made its decision. Now your head stands too much in the way. You young people think love is something you feel all the time. What is it you say? I fell out of love. No.” She shook her head. “When it is true love, you make a decision to love no matter what comes. Do you know how long Hans and I have been married?”

  I shook my head.

  “Last week we celebrated fifty years.”

  I blinked. “I didn’t even know. Congratulations. I should have brought you a gift.”

  She waved my suggestion away. “Thank you, but we have everything we could ever want. The point is, do you think I have been in love with Hans every day for the last fifty years?”

  “Yes?”

  “No! There have been many days, sometimes entire years, when I was not in love with Hans. I didn’t even like him! “

  I couldn’t imagine fifty years with William. It was a lifetime. “What kept you married during those years, then?”

  “I made a decision to love, Catherine, ja? I made it here.” She touched her temple. “And here.” She touched her heart. “You cannot trust feelings. Relationships are like those carnival rides.” She made a wave motion with her hand.

  “Roller coasters?”

  “Ja. Some people get scared when they speed too fast or go upside down. They never see how the ride ends. They jump on another ride, only to abandon it also when they grow bored or restless.” She leaned close. “Decide to stay until the end of the ride. Yes, it will not always be pleasant, but frightening twists are worth the exhilaration at the end.”

  I saw far too much of myself in Minerva’s analogy. Whenever my relationship with William frightened me, I jumped off. He, however, was steady. He never seemed to doubt his feelings for me. Tonight was my chance to tell him I didn’t doubt mine for him. I had decided to love, no matter what.

  ***

  I didn’t hear from William for the rest of the day, and I finally texted around five to make sure he was still coming.

  Be there at seven.

  His message seemed a bit abrupt, but I figured he was probably in the middle of a meeting. A half an hour before he arrived, I set a beautiful table with a white tablecloth, candles, and the flowers I’d picked up at the corner store. I had pizza from this little place I loved warming in the AGA. I knew pizza wasn’t quite on par with salmon mousse or Warm Oysters with Champagne Sabayon, but it was edible. Not to mention warm and gooey with a crispy thin crust. It smelled delicious.

  I’d also picked up a six-pack of beer and two bottles of red wine. I made a salad—okay, I opened one of those bags of salad mix and poured it in a bowl—and I had my pièce de résistance, the chocolate torte, on a pedestal in the kitchen. Or perhaps I was the pièce de résistance. I’d changed into the sexiest lingerie I could find, which happened to be a set William had brought back with him from California. I had on crotchless black lace panties, garters and black silk-stockings, and a leather bustier. I’d pulled on a short black skirt, high black leather heels, and a little cardigan. The bustier pushed my girls up and out, and I didn’t think I needed anything more to attract William’s attention.

  I felt a little naughty in the crotchless underwear, but I felt sexy too. William was going to love it.

  He buzzed at two minutes to seven, and then was upstairs and knocking on my door moments later. Laird woofed, but I waved him back and opened the door. I stood for a moment, framed in the doorway, but he barely glanced at me. He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Catherine.”

  Okay, so maybe the leather didn’t do it for him. I stepped aside to allow him to pass, and watched as the delicious smell of pizza hit him. “Smells good,” he said. “What are we having?”

  I smiled. “Pizza.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Pizza? Great.”

  Something was obviously bothering him. Maybe work hadn’t gone so well. Or maybe something new had surfaced with the Wyatt situation. “Can I get you a beer? There’s wine too,” I added. “I thought we might have that with dinner, but I can pour you a glass.”

  “A beer would be fine.”

  I felt his gaze on me as I walked to the kitchen. He looked great in dark jeans and a leather jacket. He’d probably shaved before he’d come over. He didn’t have a five o’clock shadow, and his hair was smooth and perfectly in place. When I returned to the living room, he hadn’t moved or taken off the jacket.

  I handed him a beer and he drank without even looking at the bottle.

  “I hope it’s okay that I got pizza. There’s this little Italian place around the corner. They make everything from scratch.”

  “It’s fine. Take-out is fine.” He shifted and then his gaze met mine. My heart seemed to slow and slam into my chest. His eyes were a cold blue, no trace of warm grey in them at all. “I need to tell you something. Show you something.”

  He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a large manila envelope. He opened it and slid a photo out. I stared at it for a long moment, not certain what I was seeing. And then I gasped. It was a black and white photo of Jeremy and me standing on the street in front of my car. Jeremy was kissing me.

  For a moment I didn’t understand. Jeremy hadn’t kissed me…and then I remembered the goodbye kiss. It hadn’t meant anything. It had been completely innocent, but it didn’t look that way in the picture. It didn’t look that way at all.

  “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on?” William asked, voice cold.

  I shook my head. “It’s not what you think.” It sounded so cliché, like I was some sort of philandering husband. I tried again. “That picture. It’s not…Listen, don’t read anything into it. It was just a kiss. It wasn’t…how it looks.”

  “I’m not stupid, Catherine.” He threw the photo down, and I watched as the image of me and Jeremy fluttered to the floor. Oh my God, this was bad. Very bad. William wasn’t stupid. How was I possibly going to explain? “That guy wanted you. I knew it that night, and I know it now. All the picture does is bring into question your feelings. Do you want him?”

  How could he even ask me this after last night? Didn’t he know by now how much I wanted him? Did he think I had e-sex with just any guy? “No, I don’t want him.” I shook my head. “Not at all. Not even a little. That kiss? It so doesn’t matter.”

  He was watching me, his expression dubious. He didn’t know if he believed me. That was fine because I had my own questions. “Want to tell me how you came by this picture? Do you have me under surveillance or something?” I couldn’t help but think of the dossiers I’d seen in William’s office. Photos and records of women he’d dated or planned to date. He’d said he’d never made one for me. But what was this? If he wasn’t keeping tabs on me, where had this come from?

  “You haven’t answered all of my questions yet,” William said.

  “I did answer them. I told
you this photo is nothing. I want you to answer me. Are you having me followed? Are you having George or one of your other henchman make a”—I didn’t want to say dossier—“file on me?”

  “I think you’re avoiding talking about that kiss.” He pointed to the photo on the floor, and I wished I could jump on it. Tear it up. Crumple it and throw it in the fire. But the image was in William’s mind now. It was too late.

  “You want to know about the picture?” I said, hands on hips. “Then tell me about who took it and why.” God, I hoped this was just a turn in Minerva’s figurative roller coaster ride because right now I really didn’t feel so in love with William. Right now I wanted to smash him over the head with that beer bottle.

  We stared at one another for a long moment. I wasn’t backing down. I wanted answers. Finally, William set his beer on the coffee table and sighed. “I’ve been having you trailed by security since Napa.”

  “Since Napa? Oh my God!”

  He closed his eyes. “I have my reasons. This latest Wyatt incident has made me uneasy. You’re mine, Catherine.” His gaze met mine with a look that made me go molten, even though desire was the last thing from my mind. “I haven’t hidden that fact, and I protect what’s mine. I said at my aunt and uncle’s that I had stepped up security. If it’s any consolation, I’ve had coverage on them and my cousins for the past week too.”

  My head was reeling. “And were they as in the dark about it as me?”

  No answer.

  “Right. Of course they knew. Why didn’t you tell me?” Again! He was doing this to me again! “What is it with you, William? Why do think I can’t handle anything? Why don’t you think you can be upfront with me?”

  He turned away and threaded his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “I don’t want to upset your life.” He rounded on me. “I don’t want my shit to derail your life.”

  “What? Your shit is part of my life. If something is going on, I need to know.”

  He shook his head, and I wasn’t even certain he’d heard me. “This is all because of me,” he said, almost to himself. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because of me.” His hands closed on my upper arms, his grip light but possessive. “You’re precious to me, Catherine. I just want to protect you.”

  I wanted to fall into his arms then. I knew he was telling me the truth, or his version of it. I loved that he wanted to protect me. I didn’t love that he treated me as though I was a small child who couldn’t know about the dangers in the big, wide world. “I don’t understand. I get that you want me to be safe, but why keep me in the dark?”

  He swallowed and his eyes hardened. “Because I can. And sometimes it’s better that way.” He turned away from me, and I stared at him. Was that really all he was going to say? Did he actually think that was going to satisfy me?

  “It’s better? For who? For you! How are we ever going to make this work if you’re making all the decisions?”

  His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn to look at me. Didn’t respond.

  “What haven’t you told me?” I demanded. “Are we really in danger? Have there been threats? Are they against your family? Against me?”

  William reached for the beer on the table, drank again, and paced the room. I watched him. He looked like some sort of caged panther. Why did he feel so trapped? Why couldn’t he open up to me? Finally, he looked at me again. “I’ve told you everything I can at the moment. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Fine.” I threw my arms out to the side. “You want the truth about that photo? It’s nothing. We were just saying goodbye.”

  He looked at me, his eyes hard, his face slack. He was completely impassive, waiting for me to go on. When I didn’t, he said, “Are you certain it meant nothing? It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “I drove him to the airport. He gave me a quick kiss goodbye before we got in the car. End of story.”

  “Is it?” William’s pacing stalled and he turned, heading for me. “He obviously came here to see you. It’s a long trip from San Francisco, and you just saw him in Napa. What exactly was he expecting?”

  My insides felt cold. I shook my head. “I have no idea.” But I knew that wasn’t going to fly. I had to say more. I shrugged. “We kind of had a falling out. I guess he wanted to try and make it right.”

  William’s eyes narrowed. He was close enough now for me to smell the leather of his jacket and that other scent that was his alone. “I thought he was supportive after the accident and stuck by you.”

  “He did. Yes, but…it got…complicated.”

  His gaze bored into me. “How so? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, nothing like that.” I had to say more. I had to, but I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to go into it. I’d promised myself the whole thing was over. William didn’t need to know. I closed my eyes. “He didn’t hurt me, but I hurt him.”

  There was a long pause, and I finally opened my eyes. William was watching me, his face expressionless. I felt as though we were in merger negotiations, and I was on the losing side. “There’s obviously more to it than that, Catherine.” His tone was icy, his speech clipped. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  Now was the moment. I could tell him. I could reveal my deep secret. He might be pissed that Jeremy had been here and that we’d kissed, but he’d see it really was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing to me. What I’d done was unforgivable in my mind. It was shameful. I didn’t want to share it with him. And Beckett was right. Telling William wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t undo what I’d done. Finally, I put my hands on my hips. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

  They were the same words William had said when I’d asked him about his history with Anya. He glared at me so long and so hard that I had to turn away. “It was a long time ago,” I said, more to myself than to him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  He said nothing, and I sneaked a peek at him. He was still glaring, his face a mask of stone. Finally he said, “Tell me.”

  I looked at him, and I thought about Minerva and Hans and their fifty years. I thought about William as the little boy who had lost his family. I thought about what I’d wanted for this night, and how I’d planned to tell William I loved him. I still loved him. And I couldn’t tell him this. There were some things too awful, some secrets too shameful to share. I bit my lip to stem the tears burning behind my eyes. I did not want to cry on top of everything else. I drew a deep breath and raised my eyes to William’s. “There’s nothing more to tell. You need to trust me on this.”

  How many times had he said that to me? How many times had he demanded I trust him without explanation? Now I wanted that same privilege. He could make all the demands he wanted, but I wasn’t budging. I had a right to my privacy too. I wasn’t going to be swayed by his orders and commands. This was it. I had to stand up for myself. “You have to trust me on this,” I repeated.

  William sighed. “I wish I could.”

  He turned without another word, strode to the door, opened it, and walked out. The door slammed closed behind him with a final thud.

  Seventeen

  I stared at my door for a full minute without moving. I couldn’t believe he’d really left. What had just happened? This was supposed to be our romantic dinner, but somehow everything had gone wrong, and we’d ended up in a fight. Again.

  But this wasn’t our typical fight. Just thinking that made me cringe. How pathetic was it that we’d been together less than a month and I could already label our types of fights? This time William was the one demanding answers, and I was the one hedging. I was the one not ready to open myself up completely. I was the one who’d been left. Usually I walked away from William—more like ran away, actually. Tonight he’d walked away from me. My stomach churned and heaved, and I suddenly felt too warm. I stumbled to the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair before my knees could give out.

  Were we really over now? He’d never looked so hurt. Abigail had told me
he had a tender heart and I’d seen it on full display tonight. He’d been devastated that I wouldn’t answer his questions about Jeremy. My stomach churned again, and I felt my heart sink. The last thing I wanted was to wound William any more than he’d already been hurt. I should be the one buoying him up, not bringing him down. Maybe I just didn’t know how to be sensitive enough to him. I closed my eyes, seeing the pain in his gaze again. The look I remembered on his face sliced through me like a razor blade. In that moment, I hated myself. He’d told me often that he didn’t deserve me. Clearly, I was the one who didn’t deserve him. I was the one who kept fucking things up between us, so many times now it was almost laughable.

  But I was heartbroken too. I couldn’t believe he was having me watched and had neglected to tell me. Who the fuck does that? I did know he had increased his security, but I’d had no idea that it had been extended to include me. His intentions might have been good, but it still felt like a total invasion of my privacy. Why couldn’t he tell me? Why couldn’t he trust me for once? I knew there was more to it than William was letting on and that scared me. What was so awful that it made him feel he had to keep me in the dark? I’d never underestimate him, but that didn’t mean I had to justify more bad behavior from him.

  I went back and forth about it for what seemed like hours. Finally my head felt like it was about to explode. My stomach growled. There was no point in wasting perfectly good pizza. I nibbled on a slice, drank half a glass of wine, and blew out all the candles I’d lit. The smoky darkness in my condo matched my gloomy mood.

  I brought my plate into the kitchen and caught sight of the chocolate torte on the pedestal. I wasn’t even sure William had seen it. He definitely hadn’t tasted it. Minerva would be so disappointed. All of her hard work for nothing. The smell of rich chocolate wafted toward me and, as always, I thought of William. But the cake reminded me of something Minerva had said too. She’d admitted there were times she didn’t even like Hans, but what kept them together was the commitment she’d made to love. No matter what. Had Hans ever walked out on Minerva? Had he had her followed without telling her?