A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series)

by Grace, Sorcha

  I didn’t think so, but I was willing to bet both of them had made mistakes. They’d made a commitment. I wanted to commit to loving William like that, but it seemed like either he or I kept getting in the way. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.

  I lifted the torte, pulled the trash out of the pantry, and dumped the whole thing inside.

  With a flick of the lights, the condo went dark and I crawled into bed alone.

  ***

  I snapped awake when my phone dinged, alerting me I had a new text message. I glanced at the time, just before seven in the morning, and then read the text. I already knew who it would be from; no one else would text me this early. No one else I knew was awake this early.

  Are you up?

  No, but I needed to get up anyway. I hit Send and sat, pushing the hair out of my eyes. I really hadn’t expected William to text me. Maybe things between us weren’t over. But I just wished we could figure out whether we were together or not. I was so tired of wondering where I stood with him.

  Are you okay?

  My finger hovered over the phone as I thought about my reply. Was I? Not really. I was frustrated and heartbroken and missing him already. I wanted him back, but I was tired of the drama. I started to type, changed my mind, and decided to be honest.

  I don’t like fighting with you.

  Neither do I.

  I took a deep breath. Might as well get to the point. I don’t like being shut out.

  My words seemed to hover on the screen forever. Finally—

  I understand.

  I shook my head. Do you really?

  Yes, really.

  I wasn’t quite sure if I believed that. Maybe William thought he understood, but I wasn’t certain our two interpretations meshed. But should I push it more now? He decided the question for me with another text.

  I don’t like you kissing other men.

  He was doing his own pushing. I sighed and typed.

  It didn’t mean anything. It hadn’t meant anything more than goodbye, but I guess if I saw a picture of William kissing someone else, I wouldn’t have liked it either. I waited for his response. And waited. And waited. Finally, his reply appeared on my screen.

  I know. But I still hated seeing it.

  Apparently he had decided to believe me. Before I could type a reply and mention how he had seen it and that we really needed to talk about that, he texted again.

  Your torte looked good last night.

  Ah, so he was changing the subject and had seen my dessert. I smiled. That was William. Steering the conversation the way he wanted it to go and always thinking about food. I had other things on my mind. So did you. I threw the torte out.

  Heresy. Another cake wasted. I should have stayed.

  Was he regretting walking away now? If he’d stayed, maybe we could have worked everything out before it got to this point.

  I missed waking up with you.

  I sighed again. He always knew how to melt my heart. Me too. But before he thought all was forgiven, I typed, I’m still mad at you.

  Ditto. Truce?

  I hesitated, and he must have sensed it because his next text came fast and furious.

  I want you in my bed tonight. No talking. No fighting. Just us. You’re mine, remember? I need to remind you...

  I knew what that meant. I closed my eyes as a delicious shiver ran through me. How could I say no to that? What time should I come over?

  ***

  I lounged in bed for a while longer, then got up and showered and took my time getting dressed. I was meeting with Hutch Morrison in a few hours and I wanted to look chic but effortlessly so. I checked the weather and the day was supposed to be sunny and cold, so I went with a short black metallic tweed pencil skirt, a black silk blouse, black tights, and these cute stretch, suede, over-the-knee black boots I’d picked up on sale but hadn’t worn yet because of the snow. The boots had a high heel and I knew I’d regret it if I had to walk on any icy patches, but I liked how they made me feel powerful. I put on my makeup and had just finished straight-ironing my hair when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Amazing,” I muttered to myself. For the first time in days, Beckett hadn’t bailed on me. By the time I reached the door, Beckett already had it open and had stuck his head inside.

  “Anybody home?”

  “Come in,” I called, while Laird greeted him with yips and excited jumps.

  “Look at you,” Beckett said, nodding appreciatively. “You look ready to break some hearts. Love the boots.”

  “I was going for sophisticated and powerful.”

  “You nailed it. I’m impressed”. Beckett eyed me from head to toe. “You look sexy and on trend and not at all like a substitute math teacher. You’ve been paying attention. Very good.”

  “You’re such an ass sometimes. You know that, right?” I laughed in response as I twirled around so he could see my back.

  “Honey, someone’s gotta tell you like it is and stop you from leaving the house looking like a retiree gearing up for a hot night of bingo. That’s my job, and I won’t ever let you down.” He smiled broadly. “But you don’t need me this morning, Miss Thing. You did this all on your own, and I don’t think you can help it if you break a few hearts today. You look great, Cat. Hutch Morrison’s jaw is going to hit the floor when he meets you. Oh yeah.”

  As hot as Hutch Morrison was, I wasn’t trying to attract him. Much. “Maybe I should go with pants and a sweater instead?” I said. “I do want him to look at my work, not me.”

  Beckett shook his head, making his way into my condo. “No way. He’s already seen your work, and he’s impressed. Now he wants to meet you. Trust me, Hutch Morrison is a real charmer, a ladies’ man. You’ll get further with him if he thinks you’re hot.” He glanced around my living room, a scowl crossing his face. “Cat, you haven’t even touched the mail I piled up for you when you were in Napa.”

  I looked at the coffee table. “That’s not true. I put more mail on top of it.” I waved a hand. “I’ll go through it later. I’ve been busy. You know, with my lover and everything. I’m sure you can relate.”

  Beckett had been about to sit on my couch, but he paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It just means you’ve been pretty busy yourself lately. You know, with your new boyfriend and your big secret, you haven’t had much time for me.”

  I knew the moment I said it that it was the wrong thing to say. Beckett’s smile faded, and his eyes turned hard. “Seriously, Cat? You’re calling me selfish?”

  I bristled. “And you’re not? How many times have you cancelled on me in the last week or so? I had to order pizza for William last night after you bailed on helping me cook.”

  “Poor William. That must have been horrible for him.”

  “It wasn’t, because we got in a fight and he left before eating it.”

  “Of course you did. More Cat drama to add to the mountain. Grow up, Catherine. If anyone is selfish, it’s you.”

  “Excuse me? How am I selfish? I ask about your life all the time. I care about you. You’re the one who won’t share with me. You’re the one with the big secret you can’t tell me. I don’t keep secrets from you, Beckett.”

  “And we’re back to you.” Beckett ran a hand through his hair. “Guess what, Cat? Not everything is about you. How many hours of my life do you think I’ve spent listening to your problems? I’ve heard you go over the thing that happened with Jeremy a thousand times. At least!”

  My jaw dropped. “Well, maybe after Jace died, you should have just told me to snap out of it and I wouldn’t have gotten together with Jeremy in the first place!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Jace dying was a big deal, Cat, but the thing with Jeremy wasn’t. It’s long over and done with. Why are you still holding on to it?”

  “I’m not.” But my face must have betrayed me because Beckett raised a brow.

  “Oh really? What did you and William fight about last night?”

>   “Fuck you,” I said. Sometimes I hated it when Beckett was right.

  “That’s what I thought. This Jeremy thing has never been the big deal you think it is, Cat. You’ve turned it into something it’s not so you can feel bad about it and give yourself another reason why you don’t deserve to be happy.”

  I stood there, stunned, breathing hard and feeling my chest constrict. I clenched and unclenched my fists as I kept my gaze on Beckett. There was no hint of a smile on his face, and I could tell he was really angry with me. I was mad too. It had been a long time since we’d had a fight like this.

  Beckett was standing right in front of me now, his eyes blazing, his body tight with tension. “You complain about William not opening up, but you know what Jeremy is? He’s the excuse you use to keep yourself closed off, to keep yourself emotionally protected. You’re terrified of anyone knowing the real you. The real you who makes mistakes but doesn’t think she deserves forgiveness. The real you who can’t admit she wants to be loved.”

  “That’s not true,” I whispered. But it was. I knew, deep down, that Beckett was right. He always saw straight through me.

  “It is true. You spend so much time convincing yourself that you’re so awful and that you don’t deserve to be loved that you push the people who do love you away. You know what I think? If you really think that way about yourself, then you should spare us all the pain of prolonging this relationship and end it with William Lambourne now.”

  “What? I can’t believe you’re saying this. That’s not what I want.”

  “Really? Are you sure about that, Cat? I’m saying it because I see what you don’t. William really cares about you.” Beckett nodded even as I shook my head. “You’re torturing him. And what you’re doing to him isn’t fair. “

  “What I’m doing isn’t fair? Like he tells me everything? Why are you defending him anyway? You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  Beckett grabbed my shoulders lightly. “You are such an idiot sometimes.”

  “Let go!”

  He ignored me. “There are no sides, don’t you see that? I’m trying to help you understand how lucky you are.” He shook me gently. “Do you get how lucky you are? I mean, most of us struggle to find love just once. But you—” He released me and stepped away, then pointed at me accusingly. “You’ve got a second chance! What are you thinking? That the third time will be the charm? I don’t think those odds are very good.”

  I shook my head. My thoughts were spinning now, moving wildly. Beckett was starting to make a lot of sense. And what did that say about me? That I was an idiot? That I was selfish? But maybe, I thought, because I had found love before I knew how it should feel, what it should be. “I do think I’m lucky,” I said to Beckett.

  “Well, hallelujah! An epiphany,” he sang mockingly.

  I scowled at him. “But that doesn’t mean I have to excuse William when he completely shuts me out.”

  Beckett put his head in his hands and shook it. “Shut up! Just shut up, Cat. Your issue is that he’s keeping secrets? So what? We’re all adults, Cat. We all have pasts. We all have baggage. You don’t hold the exclusive rights to that.”

  “And I’ve shared a lot of my shit with him, Beckett. All I get from him is him telling me I have to trust him. If this relationship is going to work, he has to trust me. Shouldn’t that be a priority in any relationship?”

  Beckett folded his arms across his chest. “You want to talk priorities. Okay. Have you ever wondered what William Lambourne does all day? I mean, how exactly does a billionaire noted financier, philanthropist, vintner, restaurateur, and man about town spend his days?”

  I could see where this was going, and I took a step back. My knee hit the couch, and I sat down hard.

  “Working, Cat. Working. He’s got a lot of shit going on. Shit you couldn’t possibly know about. But you’re not a priority, right?”

  I looked away.

  “You know he’s done nothing but make you a priority in his life since the moment he met you. And what’s your response? You whined because he left you alone in his fabulous Napa Valley mansion for two days. With staff! I mean, cry me a river, Cat. He’s told you time and time again that he hasn’t felt like this with anyone else, ever, but that’s not enough for you. What does he need to do to make how he feels about you any clearer? I mean, for God’s sake, Cat, he took you to meet his family. It’s pretty apparent to just about everyone else that you are his top priority.”

  I sat back and closed my eyes. I didn’t know if Beckett was right or not, but he’d definitely hit a nerve. I felt awful. I bit my lip to keep tears from falling and ruining my make up, and when I finally felt as though I had control, I opened my eyes. Beckett was kneeling in front of me.

  “I’m saying this because I love you. You know that, right?”

  I nodded. I knew Beckett loved me, and I knew he was saying what he thought I needed to hear.

  “If your friends can’t tell you the truth, who can?”

  I nodded again.

  Beckett’s arms came around me, and he pulled me into a hug. “I just want you to be happy. It’s okay to choose happiness, Cat. No matter what you do, there’s always going to be risk. You just can’t let that hold you back anymore.”

  Beckett rose and looked down at me. “Sorry if I upset you before your meeting with Hutch. You’re going to be great.”

  I smiled weakly and nodded a third time, then watched as Beckett made his way to the door, exited, and closed it with a quiet click. This was not the morning I’d expected.

  Laird came and put his head on my knee. I petted him and gave him a quick hug, heedless of the dog hair getting on my clothes. I felt pretty shitty about everything at the moment—my relationship with William, Beckett, my past. Even my future wasn’t looking too great. “We’ll go for a long walk later, okay?” I told Laird as I scratched him behind the ears.

  I wished I could just lie on my couch for the rest of the day and sulk, but right now I had to get moving. I didn’t want to drive and mess with parking, which meant I had to hurry to catch the L if I was going to make it to my appointment with Hutch on time.

  I went in the bathroom, freshened my makeup, and brushed my teeth. I swiped my face with powder and added a dab of lip gloss to my lips, then grabbed my coat and my bag, pausing when I passed the stack of mail on my coffee table. Beckett had been considerate enough to consolidate it all for me, so I might as well start going through it. I’d have time to read on the train.

  I grabbed a couple of catalogs, a magazine, and a large envelope. It didn’t have a return address, so I figured it wasn’t a bill. Probably another catalog. I stuffed the mail in my bag, shrugged into my coat, and headed out. I pushed open the door to the building as a guy carrying a toolbox slammed the door of a white van and jogged up. “Hey, hold the door!”

  I leaned back on the door, holding it open and juggling my bag and mail.

  “Sorry,” the guy said. “Plumber. Leaky pipe on the first floor, and I’m already running late. Thanks!”

  He breezed past me, and I started to walk away but then turned to look back at him. Something about him was familiar. Had I seen him around before? Nothing about him stood out. I just had a weird, déjà vu feeling. I shrugged it off and let the door close behind me. I had a meeting with sexy Hutch Morrison to make.

  Eighteen

  Morrison Hotel was located downtown in the South Loop. It was usually a pretty quick ride on the L, but today the train was crawling along and lingering at every stop for much longer than normal. I had plenty of time to think about my fight with Beckett.

  We hadn’t fought very many times during our friendship, but the few times we had had been epic. The last big fight I could remember was after Jace had died, when I wanted to give up photography. I couldn’t bear to take surfing pictures anymore, and I thought that was all I could do.

  We’d argued about it casually over the phone for months, but once I told him I was starting to look for jobs—I did
n’t care what I did at that point, I just needed to pay the rent—Beckett lost it. We had a huge fight and Beckett told me he would never speak to me again, especially if I took the receptionist job at Discount Tire Warehouse I’d been offered. He was serious. He had more faith in me than I had in myself at that point and he’d argued I could make anything I photographed exciting—even radishes. Then he’d basically dared me to come to Chicago and give it a try. I was so pissed at him, I didn’t speak to him for over a month. But I did turn down that job. We made up and eventually I took him up on his offer. Of course, once I’d come to Chicago, I’d decided to stay. And Beckett—damn him—had been right about the radishes. And about me.

  He tended to be right about pretty much everything, which meant I could either be pissed at him for a week and then admit he was right—that I hadn’t exactly been fair to William—or I could admit it now. If I admitted it now, it would cut out a few steps.

  Fine. So Beckett was right. I was selfish. I really never thought about everything William had to juggle to fit me into his schedule. And I also knew that all the annoying secretive shit he pulled, like having me followed or leaving me in Napa, he did because he cared about me and wanted to protect me. Was it so bad having a boyfriend who wanted to keep me safe, even I didn’t know what, exactly, he was protecting me from? The world he inhabited was so completely foreign to me—what could I possibly know about what he dealt with on a daily basis? I should just be happy he cared about me enough to go to all the trouble.

  As for Beckett’s argument about Jeremy, I still wasn’t convinced sleeping with my dead husband’s brother wasn’t a big deal. I could work on forgiving myself for it though, especially now that I had squared things with Jeremy as best I could. Maybe my shame would fade over time. Maybe.