Page 22 of French Martini

“You bet. Along with a baby face without an ounce of hair on it.”

“I need to see a picture of that.”

“I’ll find you one. What about your style? How has it changed over the years?”

“It hasn’t much, honestly, except that I’ve become more comfortable expressing my feminine side. In France, I was applauded for my daring outfits, a blend of masculine and feminine aesthetics. Clothes to me aren’t gendered. It’s how you feel in them that matters.”

“Do you hate the t-shirts and jeans for Moby’s?”

He nods. “Yes, but it makes sense.” Pausing, he twists his lips for a second. “I’ll need to make an impression next week.”

“I can’t wait to see you express yourself with fashion.”

He flashes a soft smile as he cuts into another piece of pasta. I don’t know how to bring up my insecurity about meeting his former crowd, but I guess just diving in is the way.

“Is there anything you want me to change? A haircut? Where I went to school? Anything?”

He cocks his head. “What?”

“I’m a blue-collar dude, Low. Obviously, you’re fine with it, but I don’t know if you want me to have gone to some fancy school or something to impress them.”

His face falls as a crease mars his forehead. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s just that you said they’re critical and they’ll want dirt. Maybe they’ll write that I’m a downgrade from your ex.”

Lowen puts his fork down, his gaze turning steely the way it does when a vendor doesn’t live up to his high expectations.

“You are not a downgrade, Oakley. You can run laps around Alain, and you’re a thousand times the man he is. Will theygossip and say unkind things? I don’t know, but fuck them all if they do.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I wish I was over it. I do. I wish Alain and whatever he’s doing in his life didn’t matter, and when I’m here in my own Willow Bay world, it doesn’t. I don’t think about him every day anymore. I wish I could show up on my own with my head high, but I can’t. Sadly, this is about Alain, not the stupid media. You have my promise that if anyone eventriesto degrade you, they’ll have to deal with me, and no one wants that.”

I flip my hand over so our palms are pressed together. “I want him to realize what he lost.”

“I don’t care about that. I honestly don’t. I’m way past my desire to get revenge or hurt him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he briefly closes his eyes. “But I can’t endure the pitying looks again. I can’t ignore the whispers and his smugness that he got the better of me, but that’s about me. It’s not about you.”

“I guess I should trust that if I wasn’t good enough, you wouldn’t have asked me.”

“You should trust that you’ve become a good friend and a trusted confidant. You’re not less than me or any of those superficial asses.”

“I know. I don’t suffer from low self-esteem.”

We both laugh and the tension dissolves.

After a few more bites of food, I jump back in. “What’s your dream proposal? Did you get it with Alain?”

Lowen scoffs. “God no. He approached it as he does everything—practically, like a business deal.”

It irritates me that he was treated like shit before. “What’s your dream then?”

“I don’t have one, Oakley.”

“Then let’s create it. Right now. Because that’s how I did it.”

A smile tugs at his pretty mouth. “I guess since you’re such a romantic at heart, you would’ve done something private but meaningful.”

“Mm-hmm. Definitely. Maybe we were on vacation. A romantic spot away from it all.”

Lowen nods thoughtfully. “The mountains. We rented a cabin so we could spend the weekend away from phones and interruptions.”

“You’d been working so hard with the guys to get Moby’s open, so I whisked you away.”

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