Page 61 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

My head popped up to meet Sheridan’s smiling face.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Did you draw these?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“I had no idea you were an artist.”

She waved her hand in front of her face. “It’s just a hobby.”

“These look professional and perfect to me.”

“So, you like them?”

“I love them. It’s like you peeked into my head and sketched out my dream.”

She reached across the table and took my hand. “Let’s make this a reality, darling.”

I felt my eyes bug out. “It would be so much money, and we would have to close the restaurant for a while. What about my employees? And would . . .”—I leaned in closer to her—“Brant approve of this?” I whispered so low; I could barely hear myself.

She leaned in close too. “Honey, don’t you know he would do anything for you?”

I threw myself back against the seat and sighed, knowing that couldn’t be true. “He won’t even talk to me.” After the words came out of my mouth, I realized how whiny I sounded. Like a wounded schoolgirl. We were business partners, not lovers. I should probably get that straight in my head.

Sheridan gave me a sympathetic look. “Honey—” She paused, like she didn’t know what to say. “I know how this must all seem to you, and I’m sorry. He is too.”

I sat up straight and plastered a fake smile on my face. “It’s fine.” The man owed me nothing. He’d already saved me from bankruptcy, and he was paying for a kick-butt lawyer to handle Giselle and Carter. Dominique was confident that by Thanksgiving, all would be settled with the pair. Even though they were determined to drag it out as much as possible. Their latest demand was to take the name of the restaurant with them. Dominique had said that was a no go, but honestly, I’d give it to them if it meant they would sign on the dotted line. I thought they’d be more than happy to part ways. I think Dominique was right; people like those two always wanted it on their terms. Well, people like Giselle. Carter was just a spineless tool. For once, Giselle hadn’t bested me, and I think that, more than anything, kept her fighting tooth and nail. She was no match for Dominique, though.

“It’s not fine,” Sheridan disagreed.

“It is.” I looked around to make sure no one was listening in the crowded dining area where we were seated before I said, “This place will be more his than mine, when it’s all said and done, and he has been more than generous to me already.” He’d gifted me a large sum to keep the place running in the interim.

She laughed. “You think he considers this place his?”

“Well, not exactly, but . . .” I didn’t know what to say. It was complicated. Or I was making it that way because of how I felt about him. Which was exactly why I’d had major reservations about going into business with him in the first place. Yet, I looked around, and there was already a marked difference. The staff was more cheerful, which seemed to rub off on the patrons. We were already seeing improved foot traffic and more catering orders. After the release party, our phone and online ordering system were blowing up like crazy. All because Brant had given me the creative license to run the restaurant the way I thought it should.

Sheridan tilted her head and studied me. “You’re hurting,” she guessed correctly.

I hated that I was so obvious. Why couldn’t I get over Brant already? “I shouldn’t be.” I grabbed the sketches again, hoping to skip the awkward conversation.

“Of course you should be. Don’t you think he is? Believe me, he hates this as much as you.”

Somehow I doubted that, given his propensity to ignore me. “I don’t even know what this is.”

She took a long drink of her lemon water. When she set it down, she let out a deep breath. “I remember feeling like that a long time ago when John,” her voice went pitchy, “and I were dating.”

I sat still, as she never mentioned his name, and I felt that if I said anything, she would stop talking. Admittedly, I was curious. Curious about it all.

“We came from two different worlds and lived hundreds of miles away from each other. Sometimes I wondered if I should walk away.” She took another drink of water.

“Do you regret staying?” I had to ask, given her current circumstances.

“Not once,” she easily answered. “My mom once told me I could do a whole lot worse than waiting for a polite, rich oilman who worshipped the ground I walked on.” She smiled while tears welled in her eyes.

“How could you argue with that?” I teased.

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “I couldn’t, so I waited.”

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