Page 14 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

He waved her suggestion away. ‘Later. What did I say to shock you?’

‘You said I left because you didn’t earn enough money, because you didn’t give me the life I wanted.’

Pasco nodded. ‘I didn’t.’

Aisha held his hard stare, needing him to believe what she was about to say next. ‘I never left because we were financially strapped, Pasco. That was never a problem. Other things were, but not that.’

‘What—?’

‘No, that’s enough for now,’ she interrupted him. She nodded to the window and the awesome view of the sun shining on the mountain. ‘It’s a beautiful day and I’m declaring a truce. Please?’ Not giving him a chance to argue, she switched subjects. ‘We were talking about your commute to the city.’

Pasco didn’t drop his eyes from hers and she knew he was digesting her words, trying to make sense of them. She caught the impatience in his eyes and knew he wanted to dig, needed more of an explanation. She hoped he didn’t push; she really wasn’t up for another fight.

Pasco dropped his eyes and when his shoulders dropped, Aisha knew she was safe. For now.

‘At some point, we’ll pick up where we left off...’

Of that she had no doubt. Just not this morning, thank God. ‘I don’t live here permanently, I just use my Franschhoek house as a bolt-hole,’ he continued. ‘I have an apartment in Fresnaye, but my chef de cuisine, or executive chef, runs the restaurant on a day-to-day basis.’

‘Nice gig if you can get it,’ Aisha said, sitting down opposite him.

‘Hey, I’ve worked long hours for a long time to earn that sort of freedom,’ Pasco snapped back.

Wow, his work ethic was a hot-button topic for him. And, yeah, she knew exactly how hard he worked as she’d been the one waiting for him at home.

Aisha cast around for a neutral topic of discussion, but Pasco beat her to it by tapping on a folder. ‘Tell me about St Urban.’

That was an unexpected question. ‘I’m sure Ro told you all about her plans for the place.’

Pasco tucked his long legs under the table and his knee brushed hers and Aisha felt the familiar tingle, the hit of connection. Pasco folded his forearms on the table and shook his head. ‘I haven’t had many discussions about St Urban with her. We’ve all, Muzi, Ro, and I, been so busy with our respective projects—St Urban, Muzi launching a new wine from a rare cultivar he found on the property and my launching a range of cooking accessories and foodstuffs—that when we do get together the last thing we discuss is work.’

Pasco’s wicked grin flashed. ‘Honestly, all we’ve discussed lately is Ro’s pregnancy.’ He pulled a face. ‘I know more about pregnancy and birth plans and multiple births than I need to, thank you very much.’

Aisha smiled. ‘It’s pretty exciting they are having twins.’

‘It’s pretty scary because they are having twin boys,’ Pasco corrected her. ‘I knew Muzi as a kid and he was wild!’

Aisha raised one eyebrow. ‘And you weren’t?’ She pretended to think. ‘Weren’t you the guy who drove his car through the window of an art gallery in town?’

‘You remember me telling you that?’ Pasco asked.

She remembered everything he told her about his teenage years, boarding school, and his adventures with Muzi and Digby Tempest-Vane. But he never spoke about his childhood before he came to live in this valley in his early teens. Then again, she never spoke about her family either.

‘St Urban, Aisha?’ Pasco prompted her.

‘Right.’ Where to start? She glanced at the folders, wondering where to begin. ‘Okay, let’s start with the manor house. It was important to Ro, from the beginning, to preserve the elegance and grandeur of the house, so distinctive details like the hand-painted dado rails and the broad yellow wood floor beams, and a million others, have been kept and, if needed, restored. After extensive renovations, the manor house can now sleep sixteen, with six en suite bedrooms and a family suite. She’s also converted the smaller guest house and the venue can sleep eight. So we have space to host over twenty people in supreme luxury.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Pasco murmured. Aisha wiggled in her seat. She’d forgotten what it was like to have all that intense energy and attention focused on her. When Pasco listened, he concentrated. And she knew that, in a week, a month, or a year, he would be able to recite their conversation verbatim.

Unfortunately for their marriage, he’d only paid attention when he’d wanted to, when the subject had interested him enough. Her unhappiness hadn’t.

Oh, maybe that was unfair. The truth was more nuanced than that. In hindsight, she thought Pasco hated talking about their problems because then he’d have to admit there was a problem, that there was something he—they—couldn’t instantly fix. Unlike cooking, you couldn’t toss your wife out and start from scratch.

Anyhoo...

‘I’d like the guests to feel like they stepped into their second home so, while everything must be exquisite, it must also feel welcoming. Ro and my boss, Miles, who is currently Chief of Operations for Lintel & Lily, felt the same way and that’s the direction they went in. The library will be full of books, the lounges will have plump couches, and there will be fresh flowers everywhere. Luckily, the house was filled with antique furniture when Ro inherited so a lot of the desks, tables, dining tables, and bedposts will go back into their original rooms when they have been restored and polished.

‘I’m planning luxury picnics by the river, hiking and mountain-biking trails, a small bar stocking the best liquor money can buy. The guests will be able to drink cocktails on the veranda or under the massive oak tree with the wide spreading branches. Damn, I need a mixologist.’ Aisha picked up her phone, opened a document, and tapped in a note to look into whether the budget would support a mixologist.

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