Ry flaps a hand in Eli’s direction in acknowledgment. I wince a little as his arm goes up and down with the gesture. “You should really stop doing that, Ry.”
Charly slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to cover her amusement.
Ry straightens and focuses the last of his energy on me. On me! “I was going to call, Kels. I had planned to ask you to dinner, somewhere quiet so we could talk, but then this deal blew up at the eleventh hour. We’ve been finalizing it for months. Then I was going to text, and…”
I reach up and place my fingers on his mouth. I can’t help the race of my heart when he puckers them and kisses the underside of my fingers, taking me back to the room in Savannah where those lips scored every available inch of my body. His eyes are red-rimmed when they look down at me. “Forgive me, please,” he whispers.
I may be the biggest fool, but I murmur, “For this, okay,” as I let my hand trail away from his face.
Before it reaches too far, he captures my fingers against his chest. I wince as I feel the crust of the food that’s landed against his blue dress shirt. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
“How about you sleep for the next twenty-four hours before you worry about dinner so you don’t pass out on your plate?” I suggest instead. Besides, I need the time to get my head around the fact I’m going to agree to go out on a date with Rierson Perrault.
He presses my hand tighter. “Kels, I want to see you again. I wanted to the minute I woke up and knew you were gone.” His voice is pitched low enough so only I can hear.
My heart sighs in my chest while my mind tries to tug me back behind the barriers I’ve lived so safely behind for so many years.
“That sounds…” I hesitate.
“Yes?” he urges.
Slamming the mental door on my mind for the time being, I duck my head. Studying what must be the remains of some kind of Italian and a stain of some orange-pink that might be sweet-and-sour, I reach for what my heart wants despite the warnings from my head. “It sounds perfect,” I admit.
“Then I’ll text you when I wake up.” He cups my cheek with his long fingers.
“Okay.” When I lift my face up, my wariness must show through.
“Better yet—” He pulls out his phone and types in something. I hear a distant ping of my phone. “There’s the address of Commander’s Palace. I’ll call them on the way back home for a reservation tomorrow. I’ll text you the time.”
“You have the address of the restaurant memorized?” I hear Eli snort behind me, but I give him no mind.
“I’m there…a lot. I’ll explain when I see you?” His voice is hesitant. Hopeful.
And it’s with that I lose the rest of my reluctance.
“That sounds good.” I see the relief in his eyes before the fatigue settles back in.
“Great. Eli? Can you have the car take us back now? I really think I’m about to fall on my face any second.”
Flushing a little, I spin around to find a smirking Eli and a smiling Charly. “Least I can do, buddy.” Flashing me a smile, Eli walks around us to the door. “A pleasure to meet you.” After a heartbeat, he murmurs confusingly, “Finally.”
Ry, who’s swaying on his feet, doesn’t seem to want to go. Finally, I murmur, “I’m just a text away if you wake up and want to talk. I’m not going anywhere.”
He deflates, as if my reassurance was what he needed. “Good. Okay. I’m going to go to sleep now.”
“I think you need to,” I tell him gently.
“Night, Kels.”
I glance out the window at the picturesque New Orleans day before braving my olfactory senses and rising on my toes to brush my lips against Ry’s bristly cheek. “Night, Ry.”
With a flick of his hand to Charly, he staggers over toward where Eli’s holding the door. Both men disappear.
Charly steps up next to me. “So? Which do you prefer? Kelsey or Kee?”
With a sigh, I turn to my new friend. “It’s been so long since I’ve been comfortable in Kelsey’s skin, that very few people call me that where I feel comfortable.”
“Ry’s one of them?” she says knowingly.
“No.” And while she rings up my purchases, I talk a little about how I moved to New Orleans to be with Angelina, Darin, and my soon-to-be niece.
Chapter 14
Kelsey
The city of New Orleans is described as pure temptation. For me, it’s amplified by the combination of seductive magnolia and the sweet lilies that embraces the city. As the warmth of the day passes, their scent is more fragrant. The barrier that separates sinners from saints seems to disappear in the fiery heat, making everything more enticing. It’s as if everything is permissible if it’s wrapped in a seductive scent.
I decide to keep the top down on my sports car for the short ride to Commander’s Palace. The ends of my scarf are flapping in the wind as I follow the GPS. Turning left on Lasalle, I keep an eye out for the quick right I need to make onto Washington Avenue.
Spying the distinctive turquoise and white striped awning, I decide to forgo searching for a parking spot and pull up to the valet. Unwrapping my hair, I drop my scarf into the center console before I raise the roof on my BMW. As soon as the roof is secured, I nod to the patiently waiting valet who opens my door. Grabbing my clutch, I slide out. “I’m meeting someone for dinner.”
“Of course.” He hands me a ticket, and I give him a smile and a folded bill. He nods in appreciation before sliding behind the wheel of my car.
Taking a deep breath, I walk inside and up to the maître d’. “Good evening. Welcome to Commander’s Palace. Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m meeting someone for dinner,” I repeat again, quietly.
“Do you know if your party is here yet?” I shake my head just as a hand slips under my elbow.
“Hello, Elliot. I called for a reservation yesterday. I believe there should be a table for two in the Garden Room.” Ry’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn. My heart stutters in my chest when I see how gorgeous he looks in a gray suit with a black shirt that highlights his extraordinary blue eyes even more. I’m completely flustered when his gaze rakes over me before murmuring, “You look beautiful, Kelsey.”
“Thank you,” I say automatically even if I believe it about as much as I believe I’m about to win the Louisiana State Lottery. I’m trying to formulate a coherent sentence, but his next words stop me cold. As menus are being gathered so we can be taken to our table, he whispers against my ear, “That dress you’re wearing was designed to drive every man in this place wild.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I sputter in shock.
He shakes his head slowly in response, dragging his nose against the tendrils of hair that I left down. “It’s elegant with the perfect amount of allure.”
I look down to make sure we’re talking about the same dress. I put on a gray silk fitted halter that has a keyhole neckline with a ribbon tie in the back that flows almost to my waist. The pleated skirt falls to my lower calf. Pairing it with a pair of strappy black sandals and a large onyx ring, I figured the look was fresh enough for summer and classy enough for a place like Commander’s Palace.
Before I can formulate a reply, a host has quietly approached us. “Mr. Perrault, your table is ready. If you’ll follow me.”
“After you, Kelsey.” Ry slips his hand firmly against my lower back, guiding me forward. We begin to weave our way toward a side room when I come up short.
“Oh my,” I breathe. “Look at that oak tree.”
“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Ry murmurs.
I nod. “It’s like sitting on the edge of the highest branch, perched for flight. It’s the feeling of excitement without the fear of wanting to try,” I whisper.
His fingers drag across the silk of my dress as he pulls me tighter against his side. “I’ve been here a million times, and I’ll never see this view again without thinking of you,” Brushing a kiss against the side of my head, he guides me t
o our table.
Right next to the window.
“How did you manage this at the last minute?” I ask once our waters are poured.
A flash of humor passes across Ry’s face. “Well, I suspect the phone call I made home yesterday helped.”
“What do you mean?”
“My parents are longtime friends with the owners.” Lifting his water to his lips, he waits for my reaction.
I frown. “They didn’t have to cancel someone else’s reservation for us, did they? I’d feel very uncomfortable about that—as lovely as this is,” I tack on hastily.
Putting his glass back down, he reaches across the table for my hand. “One of the things I’ve always liked about you, Kels, is you never cared about the fact I was a Perrault.”
Sliding mine back from under his, I gaze out at the oak tree that’s withstood so much damage and remained standing. Nothing and no one has managed to drag it down. “Why would I care about something like that when I cared much more about finding someone who would even be my friend.” As I reach for my water, my hand is stopped.
“I was your friend,” he rasps. But before I can counter, a waiter appears to ask for our drink order.
Since I drove, and I hope Ry and I plan on talking, I’ll allow myself one drink I can nurse for most of the night. I tip my head toward the waiter and request, “A French 75, please.”
“Would you like to finish that with gin or brandy, ma’am?”
“Brandy, please.”
“And for you, sir?”
“An old-fashioned. Scotch,” he adds before the waiter can ask.
“I’ll have those right out.” He disappears as quietly as he appeared, leaving us caught in the space between harsh memories and magical views. I decide to span the time between us by explaining.
“Everything I told you the other night was the truth…”
“Except your name,” Ry interjects. I tip my head in acknowledgment.
“Except my name.” Tracing my finger up and down the cold-water goblet, I admit, “With or without my journal being plastered all over the walls, it likely wasn’t hard for you to realize I’d started to…care…about you.”
His face softens. “Those kinds of feelings are difficult to hide. Even as young as we were back then.”
I lift my glass to my lips, trying to figure out what to say next, when our drinks are delivered, giving me a much-needed reprieve. “Thank you,” I murmur, as the glass is set down in front of me.
“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asks as he places Ry’s glass in front of him. I’m about to say sure to buy myself a few more minutes when Ry says, “How about giving us a few moments with our drinks?”
“Certainly, Mr. Perrault. I’ll check back with you in a while.” He disappears. I touch the long stem of the fluted glass lightly before asking, “What shall we toast to?”
Ry lifts his glass. “To reconciliation? I think we’ve been through enough rough patches to get here.”
I still, my hand falling away. “Maybe it isn’t supposed to happen. Not all stories are supposed to end well. I know for sure you were forced to read Gone With the Wind.” His grin disarms me.
“True, but can you think of something better?” His eyes are steady over his still-uplifted glass.
Not without anticipation and fear, something I experience at the start of every book, I lift my glass and touch it to his. “To reconciliation,” I repeat. Holding each other’s eyes, we each take a sip before lowering our glasses.
“So, it wasn’t a lie and it wasn’t payback.” He raises a brow in question.
I promptly shake my head. “No, it wasn’t either of those things.”
“Then what was our night in Savannah supposed to be?”
I lift my glass and take another sip for courage. Staring down into its pale-yellow depth, I admit, “Maybe it was a gift to the teenage girl who still lives in a small corner inside of me. I ended her story that night. I gave her the fairytale she never had in high school to heal the pain she still harbored inside.” The swirl of the bubbles from the sparkling wine captivate my attention.
“Wouldn’t it have worked better if you admitted who you were to me?”
I shake my head. “I was afraid to take a chance. What if you weren’t the Ry I’d remembered from the hours of tutoring? What if I’d remembered that one moment wrong? What if…”
“What if I did the same thing to you that night I did to you on graduation day?” he concludes grimly.
“Yes.” Lifting my head, I meet his stricken expression. “I fell for a boy and was shattered in the end. What if the man did worse? I could get a feel for who you were as my alter ego. Suss you out as it were.”
“Jesus.” He takes a swallow of his drink. I rush to continue.
“There’s no going back to change the past—either what happened back in high school or recently,” I conclude.
“And in the meantime, we shared something so explosive, we might have left scorch marks on the sheets in Savannah,” his honeyed voice concludes.
I blush. “Well, there is that.”
“Yes, Kelsey, there is.” Together we each take a sip of our drinks without losing the other’s gaze. After he lowers his glass, he asks, “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“About what?”
“About all of it. Do we forget our past and move on?”
“I…I don’t know.”
He leans forward and reaches for my hand again. This time, I let him keep a hold of it. “I don’t want you to be just a regret from my past.”
“Then, what do you want me to be?” I wonder aloud.
He shakes his head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Along with dinner?” I joke lightly, trying to bring us around to a lighter topic.
A smile breaks across his handsome face. “Getting hungry?”
“Yes. That and my best friend bet me I wouldn’t try turtle soup.” His laugh is like I hear in my dreams—low and husky.
“If you’re going to have it anywhere, this is the best place to try it. They’re renowned for it here.” Lifting his arm, he calls the waiter over. When he’s at our side, Ry says, “I think the lady is ready to order her appetizer.”
“Turtle soup, please,” I say without hesitation.
“Gumbo, for me. Thank you.” After the waiter leaves, he asks, “So, what was it you did for Charly and Eli yesterday?”
When I explain about the book I signed, Ry lifts my fingers to his lips. Brushing them back and forth, he smiles. “And there’s the girl I knew shining through the woman sitting in front of me. Nothing but sweet grace.”
I blush and duck my head, but the compliment does more for my soul than any other I’ve been given in the last fifteen years as my body’s morphed from grotesquely obese to fit. And most importantly, because it came from Ry’s heart.
* * *
It turns out that turtle soup is divine. So is every dish at Commander’s Palace. But it has nothing on the charming man sitting across the table from me.
Ry is a perfect date, regaling me with stories of law school at Duke, how he ended up working for Bayou Enterprises after working for one of the top law firms in the nation, his friendship with his best friend, Cade, that spans back to college, and what an enjoyable pain it can be to have his sister living with him. His comment of “She wants to do so much more than being a teacher. How could I not help her?” makes me realize that the Ry I crushed on, my Ry, is still in there.
Maybe there was a good reason for what he did. It will give me something to think about, that’s for sure.
In response, I tell him about living in Southern California, Angel, and moving to Connecticut. Even as I’m taking a bite of the tuna tartare appetizer I ordered for my entree, I’m telling him about the best pizza in the world in a tiny town called Ridgefield. “I’m telling you, Ry. It’s the best pizza on the planet. It was one of the first places my cousin took me to when I moved there.”
“Sounds like it’s worth braving a trip into Yankee territory,” he drawls. I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.
“Do you mean the world north of the Mason-Dixon line or the baseball team?”
“Both.”
My fork clatters to my plate as I glare at him. “Tread carefully, buddy. I lived there for close to six years.”
“And you lived in the South for eighteen. More if you count your time now. Where’s your allegiance to the Braves, Kels?” he counters.
“Dead,” I retort. “I’d root for the Dodgers first if that tells you anything.”
“It tells me you need to go to a ball game.”
“As long as you don’t mind my wearing pinstripes, that’s fine.”
He shakes his head in mock tragedy. “And you had such potential as the perfect woman until just now. What happened to you?”
“First, no one is perfect. Second, I saw the world and discovered it’s a place filled with a beautiful reality where the best people aren’t judged by anything but by what’s in their hearts. Third, I learned there are better things in life than following the crowd.” I slide a bite of my tartare between my lips as I watch his part in shock. But I plow on. “I’m not who I was yesterday or who I was the day before. Wouldn’t that be boring?”
The smile that crosses his face causes my stomach to clench and my nipples to tingle inside my lace-edged bra. “Yes, yes, it would be.” When I don’t respond, don’t move, he encourages me, “Finish eating. The desserts here are fabulous.”
“I’m not sure I can manage one,” I admit ruefully.
“Then, we’ll just sit here with coffee, and I’ll keep discovering more things about you that fascinate me.”
Somehow, I manage to eat another few bites, but I don’t know how. Not when my heart and my stomach have flipped spots.
Chapter 15
Rierson
I escort Kelsey through Commander’s Palace so we can retrieve our cars, but I don’t want to. Every step we take together toward the entrance means our night’s ending. I want to pull her back into the alcove we were nestled in for hours and let the atmosphere continue to keep alive the hope there’s more than just forgiveness to be found with her.
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