Page 115 of Operation Sunshine
He was memorising everything.
The way Franco laughed too loud, the way his hands moved when he talked, the way everyone leaned toward him instinctively, as though drawn by some invisible force.
When Franco caught his eye across the room, Ben didn’t look away. Franco’s grin softened, shifting from showman to something private, meant only for him. And God help him, Ben felt it all over again, that crackling rush of knowing he’d been seen, chosen.
Wanted.
Franco joined him, slipping his arms around Ben’s waist. “You haven’t had a glass of champagne yet.”
Ben chuckled. “The night is young. At least we still get to walk back to my flat. Give it a few more months and we’ll be driving.” The purchase of the Bibaringa house was going through, but it would be at least another three or more months before they could move in and call it their own.
Franco was already making plans for the house, and Ben loved his enthusiasm.
Raj tinkled a knife against his glass of champagne. “If I may interrupt these proceedings for a moment?”
A hush fell over the assembled throng, and Ben’s heartbeat quickened.
Here we go.
Arun joined Raj, their hands clasped. Raj stared at their laced fingers for a second or two before addressing his workmates, his chin held high.
“Although you might not be aware of it from looking at us, there’s an age gap between myself and my husband.” He preened. “Except we both look good for our age.” Everyone laughed. “Well, Arun has decided it’s time to hang up his lawyer hat and take early retirement.”
“Congratulations!” Willow called out, amid the whoops of the crowd.
“You got any plans?” Ollie asked Arun, who smiled.
“Actually, yes. I’m going to spend a year travelling around the world.”
“And I’m going with him,” Raj added in his low, deep voice.
Mouths fell open, and gasps echoed around the room.
“But… what about the restaurant?” Willow blurted. “We can’t replace you.”
“Don’t worry, the place will be in safe hands,” Raj assured her. “In fact, we’ve already found my replacement.” He let go of Arun’s hand, reached behind his back, and unfastened the strings of his white apron. He removed it, then walked over to where Franco stood, holding it out to him.
Franco stared at it, his brow furrowed.
Raj smiled. “The kitchen is yours—Chef Rossi.”
Ben’s chest tightened as realisation dawned. Franco whirled around to give him an inquiring glance, and Ben nodded.
“Raj and I have talked about this. And he nailed it.Sage & Thyme’s kitchen will be in very safe hands.” He smiled. “I know it.”
Applause erupted, and Franco’s cheeks were tinged with red. Everyone surrounded him, hugging, kissing, patting him on the back. Ben watched them, his heart full, before slipping through the back door to the patio. From inside he caught the strains of Willow leading the staff in what sounded like a questionable karaoke rendition of ‘All I Want for Christmas.’
The evening air was thick with jasmine and warm asphalt, thesky a glorious spectacle of reds, oranges and golds. Somewhere down the street fireworks were already going off, even though the sun was still setting.
The door opened behind him, and Franco stepped out, two glasses of champagne in his hands, still wearing the paper crown.
“I looked up and you’d gone.” Franco offered him a glass.
Ben took it. “Needed a bit of quiet.”
Franco leaned against the wall, close enough that their arms brushed. “Yeah, me too. They’re mad in there.”
“They’re all yours,” Ben remarked.
