Page 164 of Champagne Fizz

“What do you want from me?” she snaps. “I said, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask. “Saying the words and going through the motions is bullshit, and you know it!”

“Okay, I’m a bitch,” she says desperately, squinting in the sunlight that’s now glaring in her face. “I did some capital-C-cunt shit that I shouldn’t have.”

“Yes. Yes, you did,” I agree. “And?”

“And I shouldn’t have,” she repeats.

“And?”

“And …” Her lips purse again, and she raises her arms in frustration. It really shouldn’t be this hard to apologize. “And I will say as much to Kendall, next time I see her.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she echoes, moving her hand up to shade her eyes. “So can we go inside and move on from this?” She motions to the front door.

“That’s it?” I ask. “You’ve been a cunt, you’re sorry, and you’ll give a half-assed apology to my girlfriend?”

Arie takes in a big wavering breath at the word girlfriend, obviously that’s still hard for her to swallow. But she noticeably bites her tongue and doesn’t comment.

“Flambé doesn’t run without you, Simon,” Arie says instead. “I don’t know how to make a staff schedule or to do a tax return. If I tried to do those things it would be shit.”

“There are literally hundreds of people you could hire to do those things.”

“Fine,” she huffs, “but I don’t want to hire them! This isourbusiness. Our baby.”

“Actually,” I correct. “Flambé was your idea after you and Xander hooked up, and I conveniently was the best friend who happened to be really good at the business side of things.”

“Exactly,” Arie sniffs, “youarereally good at that stuff! And I need you.”

“Well, what about what I need?” I ask, and Arie frowns, turning her face from the sun again.

“Whatdoyou need?” Arie asks, perplexed. “I mean, obviously a girlfriend, and that’s fine. I said I’d apologize. I mean, you’re acting like you don’t want this business.”

“I love this business,” I correct.

“Okay?” Arie’s eyes flare. “Then what are we talking about?”

I shake my head tersely and she glares at me like I’m the asshole who needs to start explaining.

“Come inside,” I say finally, turning to the front door and unlocking it. Arie follows me in a huff all the way back to my office, even though I know she’s glad to be out of the sun.

I grab a prospectus from one of my drawers and toss it on my desk in front of her.

She glares at the papers like it’s a loaded gun.

“You’re seriously leaving?” she says, her voice suddenly small.

“You haven’t even looked at what that is,” I reply.

“That’s a lot of papers,” she replies, alarmed. “When did you talk to a lawyer? Ned was getting married.”

“There are more lawyers in Hawaii than Ned and Connor. And technically, Connor’s been disbarred, so—”

Arie sits down in the chair in front of my desk, still staring at the papers in disbelief. “I thought we were friends,” she says quietly.

I almost laugh. “Yeah, Arie,” I sneer. “I thought we were, too. But then you decided your ego, and your needs were more important than everyone else’s.”

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