Page 120 of Champagne Fizz

Not for a second.

When Arie sets her sights, she’s ruthless. The cooking staff likes to joke that when Arie’s in the kitchen you’d better be able to stand the heat, but this is too far. This is personal. And Arie doesn’t seem to care who she hurts in the process—even me.

I walk past the storage closet on my way to my office and notice the door is open. Inside is Connor—alone, dressed, and restocking my mess.

Arie’s nowhere in sight.

“Do not talk to her for the next twenty-four hours,” Connor warns, catching my eye and shooting me an admonishing glare. “You’ll just set her off again.”

“I’llset her off?” I snap. “Because Arie’s obviously the one whose feelings we need to dance around in all of this.”

“I told you to wait until after the wedding.” Connor repeats, stacking cans angrily.

“Because my life needs to revolve around what Arie needs?”

“You’re the one who decided to go into business with her,” Connor retorts, shrugging like it’s my own grave I chose to dig.

“I take it you’re on her side in all this?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Connor snaps. “I’m just trying to make peace and get things back to normal.”

“Only thisisnormal.” I gesture down the hall toward Arie’s office.

“She’s not here,” Connor explains, ignoring my comment about Arie’s habits. “She went to get Esme and Desmond at the airport.”

A piece of me is happy about that. Esme’s the level-headed twin. Maybe she can talk some sense into her sister and salvage this wedding.

“And yes,” Connor says, grumpy now. “Iwillback Arie if push comes to shove, which you know, so picking sides was a stupid question.”

“What Arie said was callous and mean.”

“Nobody ever claimed that Arie was nice,” Connor defends. “Andyoushould be backing her, too. Unless that quip about selling your share of the restaurant wasn’t bullshit.”

I harden my gaze. I don’t know if it was. I’m starting to wonder.

Arie’s already pushed this too far and it’s not even the rehearsal dinner yet. Can I really stomach what she’s going to do over the next week? Much less stay in business with her when this is her normal MO.

And what if I want a relationship in the future? Is this an Arie test that every woman I date is going to have to endure?

Clearly, we need boundaries.

And space.

Of course, I’m not about to throw away all my hard work and investment in Flambé. I love this place. I just don’t love the behind-the-scenes drama. What I need is a second location—to franchise on the mainland—somewhere far away from the off-with-her-head Queen of Tarts. Yes, Arie may be a culinary genius, but recipes can be written down and cooked by other people. People who can be trained by Arie, if need be. Recipes are repeatable. And that way, I don’t have to work within spitting distance of her angry bullshit.

“Let’s just get through this wedding,” I gruff out, putting a pin in that idea for later.

Three days. Then I’ll work through all the muck this situation has stirred up.

I hold up Kendall’s paper with her list of demands. “Are you going to talk to Arie about all this, or am I?” I ask Connor.

Connor extends his hand for the list. “I said, don’t go near her for twenty-four hours.”

“Cause, I’m the one who will explode everything,” I say hotly, handing him the papers. “Arie has nothing to do with that.”

“You don’t walk into a room full of gunpowder with matches.” Connor snatches the list and starts reading through it, taking a moment to digest everything. “Okay, you organize the staff, and I’ll make sure the kitchen and Arie are in line.” He hands me back half the papers. “Make copies of the timeline for everyone and update the master schedule.”

I can see the lawyer in Connor in times like this. His brain starts clicking through strategies and to-do lists. He reminds me of his older brother, Ned, though I’d never tell that to either of them.

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