Page 32 of Love on the Vine
She was right. I did have a few regrets when it came to guys I’d been interested in and never had the nerve to go after. And I didn’t want this summer to end up being another lost opportunity.
I had no idea what I was going to say to Jake if we ran into him, though. Should I bring up the misunderstanding and laugh about it or wait until he did? Then again, he hadn’t mentioned it yesterday, so maybe he wasn’t planning to bring it up at all.
No, it was best to just address it head on. Like ripping a Band-Aid off.
After taking turns showering and getting ready, Callie and I headed to the main house. I was relieved to have my best friend as a buffer in case Jake was there. But the kitchen was quiet.
“Oh my God, Liv, this is my dream kitchen!” Callie gaped at the enormous center island, the professional oven and gas range, and collection of copper cookware. “That settles it. You’re marrying this guy.”
My eye was drawn to the bowl full of fresh fruit from the market and brown paper bag from the bakery sitting on the counter with a handwritten note. I plucked it up and read:
To soak up Michel’s moonshine.
“How thoughtful,” said Callie, reading over my shoulder. She squeezed my arm as she pushed past me to snatch up apain au chocolat. “I don’t know about you, but as soon as I’ve had my coffee, I’m taking a dip in that fabulous pool.”
* * *
After lounging around all morning by the pool, we biked down tothe beach where we did more lounging around. It was a beautiful day—sunny but with a gentle breeze. The Mediterranean gleamed like a jewel under the sun, its waters changing from cobalt to aquamarine under the cloudless sky. The beach was teeming with sunbathers and kids splashing in the waves, while kite surfers and sailboats dotted the horizon.
“I could get used to this.” Callie sighed and rolled onto her back. She had a fresh sprinkling of freckles on her nose and sun-kissed cheeks and looked like a goddess in her black, 1940s-style swimsuit. “Too bad I have to work tomorrow.”
She was taking a night train home and then making a mad dash to the kitchen of the palace where she worked as achef de partie. “I’m exhausted just thinking about it,” I said. “Couldn’t you transfer to Antibes or Nice? You’ve always dreamed of living by the sea.”
“No, too far away from the Eurostar.”
“God, Callie,” I groaned, knowing that she only wanted to be close to the Eurostar so she could continue to hook up with a certain egomaniacal tattooed chef. There was nothing she could say that would make Gaz Greystone tolerable to me. Whenever we talked about him, she’d sigh and say she knew I was right that he was only using her, but still she went back to him. I hated to see my best friend heartbroken over someone who didn’t deserve her.
Plus, she’d been complaining about her thighs and hips earlier, which was a sure sign that he’d been commenting on her weight again. Normally, Callie had no qualms about flaunting her voluptuous body, but whenever Gaz reentered the picture, her old hang-ups resurfaced. It was enough to make me want to take the Eurostar to London myself and strangle him with his apron strings.
“Look, I know there’s not going to be a happily ever after with him,” she said as she reapplied sunscreen to her cleavage.“But I’m having a good time. So is he. And he’s connected. Who knows what opportunities might come out of this?”
“I hope you’re right. And you know I’ll be here for you no matter what.” Callie squeezed my hand.
When the sun began to dip below the rocks, I sighed. “Ugh, we should probably head back up soon. Why didn’t we think about the return trip when we decided to take the bikes?”
The idea of trudging up the hill with muscles soft-baked by the sun made me want to burrow under the sand and take a long nap. I was in no hurry for the day to end. It meant Callie leaving. And running into Jake again. Followed by a week in Burgundy with him. I had been excited about it, but now I was mortified.
After we slipped our sundresses and sandals on, we headed toward the café where we’d chained our bikes.
“Maybe we can take the bikes on the bus?” Callie was saying when a familiar shape caught my attention. I gasped, my eyes glued to a table at the café where Jake sat gazing deeply into the eyes of a very beautiful, very sophisticated French woman. At least, I assumed she was French. She had to be with that impeccable style, smooth dark hair, and red lips.
When she took his hand in hers and smiled, I ducked behind the wall. “Oh shit!”
“What? Oh!” Callie hid behind me.
“Did he see us? I think he might have seen us,” I whispered frantically.
Callie peeked back around the wall. “No, I don’t think so, but it looks like Operation Seduction just got a bit more complicated. Do you know who that woman is?”
“Stop calling it that!” I glared at her. “And no, I don’t know who that is. Maybe they just met?”
“That doesn’t look like a new acquaintance.”
I didn’t want to think too much about the woman holding Jake’s hand. My priority was getting out of there unseen. Crouching down, I started to crab walk to my bike.
“What are you doing? You look ridiculous,” Callie whispered, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Somehow, I managed to unlock the bikes and push them toward Callie, who promptly let them fall to the ground with a tremendous clatter. It was almost like she’d done it on purpose.
A young, apple-cheeked waiter raced over. “Ça va mademoiselle?”
