South Beach Love

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “I can’t take credit for it,” he teased, but then grew more serious. “Roberta and her photographer sat in on my session with the hotel’s staff the other day.”

  Sara arched a brow. “Worried that they’ll share your secrets?”

  Tony chuckled as she had intended. Laughing with him had been one of the things she had loved most about their time together. “Worried she’ll find some other way to stir up trouble between us. You have to understand that’s the last thing I want, Sara.” He reached out and laid his hand over hers as it rested on the table, his touch gentle and inviting.

  She’d missed his touch. The warmth of his hand. The calloused feel of his palm against hers as she slipped her hand into his. It felt so right. Too right. “I’ve missed you, Tony. Missed what was happening with us,” she admitted.

  “I’ve missed you too, Sara. I thought that there was something special starting between us,” he said and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  It had been special. So so special and she wanted to find a way back to what they’d had.

  “What do we do about this? About us? About the girls? It was supposed to be about them having their special day,” she said, guilt and disappointment melding in her gut.

  “We’ll do the best that we can for Samantha and Angelica. As for us… Is there an ‘us,’ Sara? Would you like for there to be?” he asked, leaning toward her, his voice earnest. His dark gaze was alive with hope.

  “I would, Tony, but it just seems like now is not the time for us,” she said, and her throat tightened with emotion. “As much as I want there to be more, it’s important to me and Jeri to be the ones featured. It’s important for my ladies and for Bridget,” she forced out, her eyes burning as incipient tears gathered. She had shattered the moment and hated that she’d done so.

  “I get that, but I can’t roll over and be second best, Sara. It’s important to me too. But you’re very important also. Maybe after….” With a squeeze of her hand, he rose, and grabbed his cup of coffee. “Look, it didn’t even take ten minutes,” he said, a sad smile on his face, and walked away.

  Sara sniffled and bit back the tears. She refused to cry over this situation again. She’d done that too often in the last few days and it hadn’t accomplished a thing. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and willed away the hurt.

  She understood where Tony was coming from. She didn’t expect him to “roll over” but like him, she wasn’t going to settle for being second best. It meant too much to everyone involved and she intended to finish on top even if the cost was her relationship with Tony.

  Roberta couldn’t believe her luck that morning.

  She’d been running to get to the magazine’s offices on Espanola Way, when her editor had texted her photos of Tony sitting at the nearby coffee shop on Lincoln Road. Someone had posted them on Twitter and she’d hurried over to try and sneak in another interview with him.

  Imagine her surprise when barely a minute after she arrived, Sara Kelly had come by and sat across from him.

  Roberta had drifted out of their line of sight. Unfortunately, she was too far away to hear what they were saying. But the picture of them together, holding hands, with misery all over their faces had told her quite a story.

  She hadn’t been wrong when she had sensed there was more than a professional relationship between the two chefs. Judging by how they’d looked, there had been something personal going on with them before she’d ratcheted up the rivalry around the quinceañera celebrations.

  As she took in the absolute unhappiness on their faces, an unwanted emotion stirred in her gut. Guilt. She had wanted the story to go viral and had done her level best to accomplish it, but this… It was difficult to see their pain, even though she knew what her editor Marco would expect from her.

  She reluctantly pulled out her smartphone and snuck around a planter filled with palms and flowers so she could surreptitiously snap off some photos of the two of them holding hands before Tony walked off and left Sara there crying.

  She waited until both Tony and Sara were out of sight, then raced to her office, the desire for coffee forgotten thanks to the sudden sour taste in her mouth.

  As she entered the magazine’s offices, the receptionist jerked her head in greeting and said, “Marco wants you in his office ASAP.”

  She paused for a moment and pulled up the photos on her phone. It would only take a few swipes to erase them. Just a few…

  “Roberta!” Marco shouted as he came out of his office.

  He was at her side, glancing at the photos before she could swipe to erase them.

  “That’s golden,” he said, taking the phone from her hand and scanning the images. “There’s a romance here too?” Marco asked.

  She reluctantly nodded. “It looks that way, but Marco—”

  “No buts, Roberta.”

  “Seriously, Marco. This is going too far,” she said, her conscience finally coming alive.

  Marco jabbed his finger in her face. “This story has been bringing in a lot of website traffic for the magazine, but the hits on the poll and tweets have been dropping. This is just what we need to get things moving again,” he said and thrust the phone back into her hand.

  “I want some tweets and a short story on my desk within an hour. Do it or pack up your desk and go home.”

  Roberta juggled the phone in her hands as she watched her editor’s retreating back. She told herself she could do this. It was important for the magazine and her career, and those were the things she had to prioritize, no matter what. It didn’t matter that what had started as a story about the girls had morphed into something else thanks to her. Something causing pain to two innocent people. Thanks to me.

  It doesn’t matter, she kept on telling herself as she headed to her desk to fulfill her editor’s command. It doesn’t matter, she repeated even though she knew that to Sara and Tony it mattered a great deal.

  Sara’s cell started buzzing like a hive of angry bees. She dreaded peeking at the notifications because the experience of the last few days had taught her it couldn’t be anything good. But ignoring it would risk her getting blindsided by something later.

  She set down the knife at the station where she had been fileting fish for one of that night’s daily specials and wiped her hands with the towel tucked into her apron waistband. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she swiped it open and cringed at the notices that she had a slew of messages from her friends and dozens of social media mentions.

  “Put the phone down,” Jeri said before she walked over, and grabbed it out of her hand.

  Sara wiggled her fingers in Jeri’s face. “Give it back.”

  “You don’t want to see what it is, Sara. Trust me,” Jeri said and tucked the phone behind her back.

  “I do want to see it. Better that than being surprised later,” she said and held her hand out for the phone.

  Jeri hesitated, but relented and handed Sara the phone. She stood there, waiting, as Sara skimmed the subject lines on the messages and then headed to a Twitter feed that was going insane. It was obvious why.

  Kiss and tell? Are these top chefs more than just rivals? You be the judge! http://bit.ly/2KAKpp8 #SouthBeach #eatfamous #truecooks #foodie

  The preview photo beneath the tweet was a picture of them at the coffee shop. She hovered her finger over the link, hesitant to see what other photos Roberta Lane might have gotten her hands on, but finally resolved that it was better to know so she could deal with it.

  She clicked on the link and it took her to the magazine’s website. There was a short write-up about their meeting that would probably take longer to read aloud than the time Tony and she had spent having coffee. She barely glanced at the words because the pictures were way more compelling. Tony and her, peering at each other intently. Gazes filled with so much pain and longing. Her heart tightene
d in her chest and she laid her hand there as her eyes shimmered with tears. The pain was so unbearable it was almost hard to breathe, but somehow she managed a shaky breath.

  “How bad is it?” Jeri asked, concern evident in her voice.

  Sara’s throat was so tight with emotion that she couldn’t even get out a squeak. She held up the phone so that her friend could see the pictures.

  “Wow. So sorry, Sara. None of that is anyone’s business. I didn’t realize South Beach Style had become such a gossip rag.”

  Sara jerked the phone back for another quick look and then shut off all notifications and swiped the phone closed. “Tony and me…it’s complicated. I’m sorry this has all become such a mess. I know it’s important to you—to us—that we’re the ones highlighted in the article.”

  “It is important to me. To us. It could mean more money, more opportunities,” Jeri said, apology coloring her words.

  “Which means we could hire enough staff for you to spend more time with Sophie. Maybe even Rick?” Sara asked.

  With a reluctant shrug, Jeri said, “Maybe. But what about you and Tony? Will you have a chance after this is all over? The last thing I want is for this to hurt you.”

  “He’s going back to New York either way, and if I lose, I’ll have to live with the humiliation here in Miami.” She jammed the phone into her back pocket and hurried to her station to finish prepping the fish for that night, Jeri chasing after her.

  “Or maybe he’ll stay. Anything is possible, Sara,” she urged.

  Sara had never thought of herself as a pessimist, but when it came to Tony and what was happening, she was finding it hard to stay positive. Jeri was right that anything was possible, but....

  “Maybe he’ll stay even after I win this stupid contest that Roberta has whipped up. But I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Jeri smiled and wrapped her arm around Sara’s waist as she began to filet the fish again, her knife movements sure and efficient. “You’re going to kick his butt, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” Sara said with certitude. She was going to be the one who got the most face time in the article and let all the other chips fall where they may.

  Tony was flipping through his journals, trying to search for recipes to include in his cookbook, but the words were just a blur. All he could think of was Sara and the disturbing images and article that the reporter had posted earlier that day.

  His phone chirped, snagging his attention. Again. His phone had become a non-stop noise machine with a combination of text messages and calls that he had been ignoring. But as he glanced at the screen, he realized it was Javi. He hoped everything was okay with his older brother. Javi had seemed way too busy and preoccupied the last time they’d spoken. He’d been worried about his brother ever since their discussion.

  “Javi, hermano. ¿Como estas?” Tony said.

  “Bien, hermanito. I wish I could say the same about you. Are you okay?” Javi asked.

  Am I okay? he asked himself but didn’t have an answer. “I guess you saw the tweets and stuff.”

  “I did. Or I should say my programs did. I’ve got them set to alert me when anything mentions you and well...things were blowing up,” Javi said with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, hermanito. I guess the Sanchez boys are doomed to have a thing for the Kelly girls.”

  Javi’s comment reminded him about what Rick had asked just a day or so earlier about Javi and Bridget. Grateful for a way to change the subject away from him and Sara, he asked, “You and Bridget were a thing?”

  Another sigh, heavier and filled with more emotion, flooded the line before Javi said, “Water under the bridge, mano. She has her hotshot finance guy –”

  “They’re divorced and from what I understand, he did a number on her.”

  “She’s okay, right? Because if not.…” Javi didn’t finish, but then again, he didn’t need to say anything else to make it clear that he would tear the other guy apart if he had to. Unless he’d let his big athlete’s body go to flab after becoming a desk jockey.

  “Bridget is more than okay, Javi. Maybe you’d know that if you came home more often,” he said and almost bit his tongue as his sister’s and mami’s words spilled from his mouth.

  Javi chuckled and he could picture his brother’s smile and the way he’d drag his hand through the thick waves of his dark hair, so much like his own. “I guess I will find out once I’m home. Hermanito, I have news for you all. News you couldn’t ever possibly imagine,” Javi said, humor and happiness in his voice.

  “Sounds like good news, Javi,” he said and wished that he’d have good news to share soon and not about the article.

  “It is. I know you’re having a tough time now, but it’ll get better, Tony. Sara is totally worth it,” his brother said.

  He couldn’t argue with him. “She is. I’ll try to stay positive.” Even if it was almost impossible to imagine things working out well, he would hope for it with all his heart because as Javi had said, Sara was worth it.

  But as he hung up with Javi, he realized hope alone couldn’t make things right. He had to make things right. With that in mind, he phoned Sara…and the phone just rang and rang.

  He told himself it was likely because she was busy and not because she was ignoring him. He was about to hang up when she answered, slightly breathless. “Tony?” she asked, surprise in her voice.

  “Sí. How are you?” he asked, but in the background the noises of activity in the kitchen filtered over the line.

  “Busy. It’s been a little crazier here what with the tweets and other stuff,” Sara said, but there was no obvious pleasure in that.

  “I guess that’s good, right?” he said, glad that something good was coming out of their misery.

  “It is, but at what sacrifice?” she said, dejection in her voice.

  “I understand, Sara. That’s why I’m calling. I’d like for us to do something together,” he said.

  Silence, for barely a breath, tightened his gut with anticipation, but then she said, “I’d like that.”

  He expelled a relieved breath. “Is tomorrow good?”

  A rough laugh greeted him. “I think Jeri and I can work things out.”

  Wow, he had hoped for a “yes” but now that she’d agreed, he’d have to scramble to make plans for the day. “I’ll text you with the time and place. Is that okay?”

  “It’s more than okay, Tony. Thank you. I’m looking forward to it,” she said, and hope flared into possibilities. Way more than he’d thought likely after their meeting that morning.

  Armed with that, he thought about who could help him pull this off and one person immediately came to mind.

  He picked up the phone and dialed. When his friend answered, he said, “I need your help, Rick.”

  “I hope this will work for you,” Rick said as he gestured to the backyard at his suburban home.

  “It’s great,” Tony said, looking around at the pool and beyond, to the small deck on a canal where a Seadoo sat on a lift. “Did you buy this house with someone special in mind?”

  Rick shrugged which was an answer in and of itself. As Tony glanced back toward the home, with its inviting open space concept visible through the French doors, it was obvious his friend intended to have a family in this home.

  “It’s really nice, Rick,” he said.

  “But not what you expected,” Rick said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

  “No way, it’s definitely you. I can picture you here with a family,” Tony teased and clapped his friend on the back.

  “Me, too, bro. Maybe someday,” his friend said wistfully.

  “I appreciate you loaning me your home and helping me get everything ready. I know it was last minute,” Tony said in apology.

  Rick laughed and held his hand up for a high five. “If the Kelly brothers can’t get it fo
r you –”

  “No one can,” he said with a chuckle, repeating the jingle his friend’s family used as their business slogan. He slapped Rick’s hand for the high five.

  Rick pointed his finger at him. “You got it and I should get going, but…take care with her, bro.”

  Tony nodded. “I will, Rick. You know I care for her.”

  “I do, but this quinceañera thing. It’s way out of control,” Rick said and then quickly added, “I won’t be back until late.”

  “I appreciate you clearing out, but what are you doing?” Tony asked.

  Rick smiled, a broad grin filled with happiness. “I took your advice. I’m babysitting Sophie at the restaurant so Jeri can cover for Sara. She was supposed to have the morning and afternoon off.”

  Tony was pleased that his friend was finally making inroads with Sara’s partner because it was way too easy to picture Rick here with them, in the home he’d made for a family.

  “Good luck, mano,” he said and walked with Rick to the front door.

  “You too,” Rick said and left to go to the restaurant.

  Tony had to get going to prep everything he needed for Sara’s arrival in less than half an hour. He quickly whipped up some bacon and French toast slices he filled with a spread he’d made with mascarpone and strawberries. Into the oven to warm while he made a pot of coffee and heated some milk for it.

  He had just finished setting the table, complete with a vase of yellow roses, when the doorbell rang.

  His heartbeat picked up its pace and his hands seemed suddenly sweaty as he went to the door. He opened it and Sara was there, a hesitant smile on her face. She held a smallish plastic container that she thrust at him. “I made some churros and cannolis since you liked them so much the other day.”

  And since it had been such a nice first time together, he thought and hoped that it had been her intention to restore that feeling.

  “Gracias. Welcome, although it’s weird since it’s Rick’s house,” he said and held his hand wide to invite her in.