Page 16 of The Cupid Chronicles

“Yeah.” She gives a shrug, as if to say, “What’s your point?”

“When was the last time you actually went out on a date?” I turn the water off and face her, waiting while her eyes scan the air overhead. After an appropriate pause, I say, “That’s what I thought.”

The back door opens, and Bear walks in, as if on cue.

Val shoots him a look, and he freezes. “Whoa. What’s that look for?”

“You need to take your wife out more,” I say.

Val crosses her arms as Bear’s gaze jumps from me to Val and back again. But then, as if to prove my point, he holds out his arms and says, “When would I have time for that?”

I shoot Val aSee?look and go back to prepping while Nicola moves around to the opposite side of the counter to face me. Val whips a towel at Bear, and they walk out of the kitchen, presumably so he can apologize.

I settle in and prepare for whatever sales pitch Nic is about to feed me.

“So, Danny’s sister is going through a divorce?—”

I hold up my hand without looking at her.

“She’s really great, just in a bad situation?—”

“No.” I feel like I’m repeating myself.

“She’s not falling apart or anything. Just . . . lonely.”

The word is like a shock to my system. Because I know a little something about lonely. But I’ve grown comfortable with my solitude, no matter how much my employees—or a stupid magic building—try to force people on me.

And here I thought I could go a good half-hour without thinking about the building.

“Nicola, I appreciate you wanting to take care of me, really. But let’s stick to desserts and espresso and leave my love life out of it, okay?”

Her face falls. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push, I just . . .” She pauses. “I’m worried about you, Chef,” she says. “We aren’t meant to be alone.”

“Apparently some of us are,” I mutter, grabbing my knife roll.

I don’t have to glance up to feel how her face looks. I can be a real piece of work sometimes.

Hiring Nicola changed our relationship. We’d been friendsback in culinary school—she and her then-boyfriend, Mark, and Aria and me. Good friends, actually.

But now that she works for me, she’s not a friend anymore. At least, I can’t see her as a friend anymore. She’s an employee.

The problem is that she might be right, and I don’t like it.

I try to soften. It’s difficult when people are constantly pressing on an open wound.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. I’m actually good with it, Nic,” I say. “This is how I prefer it.”

“Yeah. I know,” she says, with anoh, ooo-kayundertone. “I know you’ve convinced yourself you’re better off alone.” She chews the inside of her lip thoughtfully. I’m about to change the subject when she says, “I know you miss her.”

The sting of her words sparks something inside me.

A mental image of blue and red lights surrounding an overturned car flashes through my mind.

I look up.

“I do. But I’m not doing this right now. Let’s drop it,” I say.

She goes still. I look back at the vegetables on the counter, relying on muscle memory to chop them because my mind is elsewhere.

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