“Of course!” Abby threw her arms around Faye, whom she would recognize anywhere. Faye was a voluptuous woman, like Shelley, with thick, layered blond hair, apple cheeks, and big brown eyes. When Abby was younger, she’d had a crush on Faye’s oldest son, Reggie. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“I know, darlin’, and that’s my fault,” Faye said. “I haven’t been out to visit in a while, but Shelley has filled me in on everything that’s been going on with you, including a new beau and a new sister. Those green eyes tell me you’re Cait, right?”
“Yes. Cait, this is Faye, Shelley’s ex-sister-in-law, and this is Lenore, Shelley’s mother.”
“Faye was married to my husband Steve’s brother Jeffrey.” Shelley shielded her mouth and said, “But we don’t talk about him.”
“He’s an ass,” Lenore said.
Cait smiled at that. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Faye, how long are you in town?” Abby asked.
“Forever,” Faye said. “Shelley and Lenore have convinced me to move here.”
“That’s wonderful,” Abby exclaimed.
“It only took us a decade,” Shelley said. “Faye has spent the last several years working as a cook at a fancy restaurant in Trusty, Colorado. She needs a job, and you gals need a cook. I thought you might want to talk.”
“We have someone who might be able to fill in here and there, but we definitely need a full-time cook,” Abby said. “They’re going to start the announcement soon, but I’d love to get your number.”
“I’ll text it to you,” Shelley promised.
“The Brigaders and I are excited to get back to having our luncheons at the Bistro,” Lenore said. “And remember, if you ever need help, we’re excellent waitresses.”
“Thanks, Lenore,” Abby said. “We’ll keep that in mind, but no free labor.”
“We can talk about that another time.” Lenore raised an eyebrow in Cait’s direction and said, “Right now I’d like to get to know our lovely Cait. Rumor has it a few of our island boys have already cast their hooks in your direction. Have any reeled you in yet?”
Cait’s smile faltered, her eyes darting nervously to Abby.
“That’s island gossip, Lenore,” Abby said, giving Cait a reassuring nod. “But can you blame them? I mean, look at my sister. She’s not only beautiful, but she’s also a talented artist. She painted a gorgeous mural in the Bistro. You’ll have to come see it.”
“Shelley told me it was stunning. I look forward to seeing it.” Lenore eyed Cait’s tattoos and said, “And my granddaughter Leni told me that you’re a tattooist. Maybe I should make an appointment. I’m thinking of—”
“I think my mother is having a late-life crisis,” Shelley said, pushing in front of Lenore. “Yesterday she tried to talk Brant into selling her a motorboat.” She took Lenore by the arm and said, “Abby, I’ll text you Faye’s number. Good luck, ladies.”
“Fingers and toes crossed!” Faye waved her crossed fingers.
“Thank you,” Abby and Cait said in unison as Faye disappeared into the crowd behind Shelley and Lenore.
“Are people really talking about me?” Cait asked nervously.
“I know I am,” Wells said as he walked between them and draped an arm around each of them. “Good luck today, ladies.”
“Thanks.” Cait slipped out of his reach.
“Thanks, Wells,” Abby said. “Good luck to you, too.”
He looked sharp in a dress shirt and slacks. “Word among our friends is that I’ve got pretty tough competition.”
“We’re hearing the same thing. Who knows, maybe we’ll both lose,” Abby said, but she was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen. While the other restaurants were good, and some were even considered great, she’d been told that there was nothing remarkable about the food or the dining experiences at any of them. And although she loved the romantic, bohemian experience of the Bistro, that didn’t mean the stoic judges did. Wells was a tough contender, and she wasn’t about to count her chickens before they hatched.
“That’s not going to happen,” Wells said, and then his face went serious, and he pulled Abby aside. “I hear you and Aiden got into a tiff before he left. You guys okay?”
Her stomach plummeted. “How did you hear that?”
“Not much gets by me.”
Fitz. She felt her cheeks burn. Had they been that loud when they were arguing? She lifted her chin and said, “I’m fine.”
“I really like the guy, but more importantly, you two seemed great together. Is he okay?” Wells asked.
Startled by the question, she thought about it and answered honestly. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Wells offered.
The mayor’s voice boomed through the speakers. “We’d like to invite the contestants up to the stage, please.”
Applause and cheers rang out as people began heading toward the stage, where Tara Osten, the mayor’s daughter and a local photographer, was taking pictures.
Wells said, “After you, ladies.”
When they were out of his earshot, Cait whispered, “What did he say to you?”
“He asked about Aiden.” She forced a smile as they ascended the steps, and Tara took their pictures.
“He’s just trying to make you nervous or something,” Cait said.
“I don’t think so. He’s not mean like that.”
They stood on the stage with the other six contestants as the mayor gave a speech about Silver Island and the competition. Abby looked out at the sea of new and familiar faces, feeling honored to be back among the community that had not only helped raise her but had also helped her family more than she’d ever known. She was thrilled that Cait was sharing in her journey to building a new life there and also starting her own. But even the support of the community and the excitement of the day couldn’t quell the ache of missing Aiden. If not for him, she and Cait wouldn’t be standing on that stage.
Had he stepped on her toes and spent too much money on her? Yes. Had he made a freaking huge mistake by not telling her he was the investor? Absolutely. But no matter how much she tried to believe he’d done those things for his own gain, she couldn’t. It didn’t add up. His face—the face she’d grown to love, the one she’d already imagined mapped with wrinkles and framed by gray hair—flashed in her mind, bringing with it a pang of longing. They’d been apart only a few days, and it was far too long. She thought of her mother missing her father so much she’d given up trying to push past the pain and had chosen to give up on life instead. As much as it broke her heart to know how badly her mother had hurt, her mother’s weakness and her mother’s letter gave her the courage to do what her heart wanted to do. To obliterate the fears of turning into her mother, the fear she’d carried for as long as she could remember, and to chase all of her dreams. Because Abby wasn’t broken, and she wasn’t about to give up on anything.
Not on this competition, not on herself, and especially not on Aiden.
Her mother had needed her father to survive. Abby didn’t need Aiden in that way. She knew who she was—Abigail de Messiéres, sister, friend, chef. But she wanted Aiden in her life, because being with him made everything that much better.
Cait nudged her, startling her out of her thoughts. Everyone was applauding and cheering, so Abby applauded too, wondering what she’d missed.
“We won!” Cait exclaimed.
“Wha . . . ? We won? We won!” She hugged Cait.
Wells leaned in and said, “I think you need to make a speech.”
“Oh, right!” Abby exclaimed, and grabbed Cait’s hand. “Come on, Cait!”
There was a rumble of laughter and shouts of congratulations as they shook the mayor’s hand and stepped up to the podium. Abby’s heart raced. She’d been so consumed by her and Aiden’s troubles, she hadn’t prepared a speech.
She looked at Cait, wide-eyed and smiling from ear to ear, and said, “Would you like to make the
acceptance speech?”
Cait closed her mouth and shook her head, elation glittering in her eyes.
Abby leaned closer to the microphone and said, “Thank you so much.” The applause quieted. “This is a great honor for me and my sisters, Cait”—she motioned to Cait, who waved—“and Deirdra. Unfortunately, Deirdra couldn’t be here today. Deirdra and I grew up at the Bistro, watching our father cook, paint, and sit down with customers while they ate and watching our mother hostess, waitress, and mingle. Back then all I wanted was to be part of that world.” She found Shelley’s friendly face in the crowd and said, “It took a push from a special friend for me to finally leave this beloved island and find my way through culinary school and into the restaurants of New York City. What I didn’t know while I was gone was that the people here, the community in which I’d grown up and loved, helped to keep the Bistro afloat. My sisters and I couldn’t possibly thank everyone who had a hand in that, but you know who you are, and we will be forever grateful for all that you have done.” She looked at Cait and said, “Now it’s our turn to give back to the community.”
She scanned the crowd, wishing Aiden were there, because not only did he deserve the most thanks, but this was their moment. He’d wanted this for Abby even more than she’d wanted it for herself. Struggling to push past those thoughts, she said, “When we first came back to the island, the Bistro was a mess. It was run-down and a reminder of the hardships our family had dealt with. Some people thought the Bistro should be put out to pasture, but I still felt the magic it once held, and I saw the beauty in it, flaws and all. And with the help of my sisters and our friends, we brought it back to life. Unfortunately, someone else who is very special to me and who deserves the most gratitude for this win isn’t here today. Funny enough, he came into my life the same day the Bistro and Cait did. When I told him about the magic the Bistro held for me, he looked past the run-down structure and past my flaws—my stubbornness and my fear of entering this competition—and he saw things in me that I didn’t. He believed in me and my dreams, and he moved mountains to help me make those dreams come to fruition.” Tears sprang to her eyes as she said, “Without him, we would not be standing on this stage.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd, which parted before her like the Red Sea as Aiden stepped to the front, a sight for Abby’s aching heart, in a navy button-down, khaki slacks, and loafers, holding a bouquet of flowers.
Tears spilled from Abby’s eyes. “You’re here?”
“I never left,” he said.
Sobs burst from her lungs as a collective “Aw” rang out. Abby ran around the podium and leapt from the stage right into his arms, causing gasps, cheers, and applause.
“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses.
“No, I’m sorry. I was hurt and scared. But I’m not scared anymore. I know everything you did came straight from your heart, and I love your heart, Aiden. I love all of you!”
He kissed her again, eliciting more cheers. As he set her feet on the ground, his loving eyes found hers, and the crowd quieted as he said, “I love you, Abs, and I promise to be as transparent as glass from now on. These last few days were the worst, but they made one thing very clear to me. I don’t want to figure out how to function when half my heart—and everything I need and want—is right here on this island.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You’re going to stay for a while?”
“I had something a little more permanent in mind. Do you think you can stand being with a workaholic who’s sure to make mistakes but will do his very best not to?”
“Yes! Can you stand being with a stubborn chef who has a chip on her shoulder about doing things herself?”
The devastating grin she loved lit up his eyes, and he said, “Not only can I stand her, but I want to make her mine forever.” He got down on one knee, sending Abby’s heart into a wild flurry, and pulled a gorgeous diamond ring from his pocket, causing another round of gasps and commotion. Abby couldn’t believe her eyes. The ring had two diamond-encrusted gold bands with an enormous teardrop-shaped diamond between them. A row of smaller teardrop diamonds arched around the peak and the rounded bottom of the center diamond. Tiny strands of diamonds ran between the gold bands on either side of the center diamond, like the lights-of-love chandeliers. “You are my light and my love, Abigail de Messiéres, and I want to build a life with you. I want to have stubborn little girls with flyaway hair and adorable freckles and nerdy boys who wear the wrong shoes and prefer numbers to race cars.”
Tears streamed down Abby’s cheeks. She had no idea how her wobbly legs were holding her up as she imagined adorable little boys with Aiden’s serious eyes and cute little loafers, and nervous laughter slipped out.
Aiden took her hand, his teary eyes smiling back at her, and said, “I want to show you the world one week at a time during your off-season, and ride our bikes to Keira’s for breakfast when we’re running late because we’ve stayed in bed too long. I want to take long walks on the beach and get sand in our sheets, tangle up kite strings, and add a million more memories for us to make to our list. I want to hang out with our families and friends and hear your carefree laughter for the rest of my life. And I promise I will never, ever hold anything back. Will you marry me, Runner Girl? Be my wife, the mother of our babies, and let me cherish and love you forevermore?”
Abby could barely think past the love thundering between them. But she didn’t need to think, because everything she wanted—the beautiful man who had not only changed her world but had become her world—was right there waiting for her to say “Yes! Yes, Chair Guy, I will marry you!”
Aiden shot to his feet and lifted her off the ground, kissing her hard. “Yes?”
“Yes!” She pressed her lips to his again, and an explosion of cheers rang out.
“I’d say we have more than one winner today,” the mayor said into the microphone, and they both laughed.
As the crowd converged on them, Aiden put the gorgeous ring on Abby’s finger and said, “I love you, Abs, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much and probably getting into trouble by showing you too much, then making it up to you again and again.”
With laughter and tears and more love than she ever thought possible, Abby said, “And I’ll overreact and love you through every mistake and for every single second of the rest of our lives.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–SEVEN
GUITAR MUSIC FLOATED in from the patio through the open glass doors of the Bistro, mixing with the heavenly scents coming from the kitchen and the chatter of customers celebrating the grand opening. The restaurant had been packed since they’d opened at eleven, and while Abby had been cooking all day, she’d made a point of popping out of the kitchen several times to greet customers, like her father used to do. But Aiden was so damn proud of her, he needed another Abby fix.
He pushed through the kitchen doors, the hair on his arms rising with the electrical charge in the air, buzzing louder than the classics coming from the boom box. Abby was in her happy place, moving feverishly from one pan to the next amid sounds of meats searing, fish and vegetables grilling, and soups simmering, barking orders in coded chef language, which her staff expertly carried out. She was working her magic, like a maestro choreographing a symphony as controlled chaos ensued around her—servers delivered and picked up orders, bussers cycled in and out, and meal preppers washed, peeled, cut, and seasoned. Faye Steele, a jubilant, motherly type who had taken Abby and Cait under her loving wings, winked from the stove, where she was cooking.
Aiden waited until Abby took a breath and said, “Abs? Everything okay here? Do you need anything?”
Abby turned, her face glistening from the heat of the stove, her radiant smile lighting up the room. “Just a kiss.”
He quickly pressed his lips to hers and said, “Love you, babes.”
“Me too, you. How are things out there?” she asked, turning her attention back to the stove.
“Every table is full inside and out. T
he patio is packed, shoulder to shoulder, and everyone is raving about the food.”
It had been three wonderful, busy weeks since the competition, and even before the opening, the Bistro had become the most talked-about restaurant on the island. But that hadn’t stopped Abby from worrying over every detail of her big day. Earlier that morning, she’d been so hyped up, Aiden had kept her in bed for an extra hour, knowing just how to take the edge off. He’d lavished her with love until she lay happily sated in his arms, too spent to stress over anything. He’d known she needn’t have worried. Abby never did anything halfway. She and Cait had hired and trained competent and friendly staff and had planned the event perfectly.
“And Jagger?” Abby asked.
“He and Dolly are a big hit.” The laid-back guy was as good a cook as he was a musician, and Abby had hired him to do both—on a loose schedule, of course, because that was how Jagger rolled.
“I’ll zip out when I get a chance.” Abby looked over her shoulder and said, “Dessert at our table later?”
“You know it.”
They’d set the table Aiden had bought when he’d first come to the island on the patio with a sign that read RESERVED FOR ABBY AND AIDEN, which would change to read RESERVED FOR MR. AND MRS. ALDRIDGE after they were married that fall. News of their impending wedding had spread like wildfire. It seemed all the women on the island were aflutter with wedding talk.
Aiden took one last long look at Abby, his heart overflowing with love for her and for the life they were building together. Over the last few weeks they’d transformed her mother’s house into a bright new beginning for the two of them, with newly painted walls, refinished floors, several of her father’s paintings, and pictures of Aiden, Abby, and their families. They’d turned the junk room into a glorious master bedroom and her mother’s bedroom into an office, complete with the couch where they’d first made love. They’d moved Abby’s things from New York and some of Aiden’s things from his house in LA, filling in the rest with furniture and art they’d chosen together from local shops. Like with any couple, it wasn’t always smooth sailing, but they were learning to navigate troubled waters together. Aiden still had a lot to learn about not trying to do everything for Abby all at once, but she was gracious with her teachings. When he had surprised her with the conversation pit she’d admired at the furniture store for the Bistro, she’d started to give him a lecture. But she’d stopped herself and surprised him by thanking him for being so thoughtful instead. When she’d come home that evening and found another conversation pit on the deck out back, she’d simply laughed and said, What am I going to do with you? She’d approved of the sensual ideas he’d come up with, and he’d happily endured his punishment.
Maybe We Will (Silver Harbor) Page 38