Page 145 of Champagne Fizz

“That didn’t look like an apology.”

I turn to find Esme at my elbow, holding her own glass of flaming champagne like she’s a lavender-haired oracle ready to read me my fortune. Over her shoulder, Desmond and Naomi have abandoned her for the hors d'oeuvres table, and I can tell Esme’s been waiting for her moment to pounce.

“What do I have to apologize for, Esme?” I ask indignantly. I’m not in the mood for a lecture, even from Esme the peacemaker. “Remember Arie’s the one who’s been awful. And Kendall’s the onesheshould be apologizing to.”

“Haven’t you learned that you can keep pushing Arie away?” Esme replies. “She’s got a will of steel. The more you push, the more she feels trapped.”

“Arie’s the one pushing me away,” I counter, looking for a way to bail on this conversation. “I’ve got to find Kendall.”

“Kendall’s inside with the second photographer,” Esme says, pointing through the picture window. Indeed, Kendall’s leading the photographer through the reception space as she rearranges details so they look perfect. “Arie’s more sensitive than you think.”

“Right,” I grumble, frustrated. “Arie’s sensitive in a I’m-going-to-say-blasphemous-crap-to-cover-for-my-broken-heart … that sort of thing?”

“Simon, I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand just fine: the world revolves around Arie, and if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

“No,” Esme shakes her head and loops her arm around mine, leading me over to the patio railing. The sun is setting and turning all the clouds in the sky pink and yellow. It’s spectacular. “There have only been three men in Arie’s life,” Esme continues. “Important men. Connor’s the first, obviously. Then there’s Xander—who lives across the world in London. And you.”

“Right, except I didn’t sleep with Arie like Connor and Xander did, so—”

“So that makes you extra special, doesn’t it?” Esme points out. “You’re Arie’s only real male friend.”

“Xander’s her friend,” I counter. “He’s hercheffriend. He’s someone she can actually talk menus and flavor profiles with.”

“Xander lives too far away,” Esme counters. “And if he ever actually lived in the same time zone as Arie the two of them would be screwing before dawn.”

“Well, it’s a good thing for Connor that Xander lives in London,” I point out, and Esme nods like that’s an understatement.

“Arie’s jealous by nature,” Esme continues. “She’s threatened by Kendall because her worst fears are coming true. You’re actually considering leaving what you’ve built with Arie for Kendall.”

“No,” I counter. “I’m considering leaving because of how Arie has been behaving with Kendall. I don’twantto leave Flambé. I never wanted to leave. I love this place. But Arie is making it impossible to stay.”

“So, apologize,” Esme pushes. “You’d be surprised how far an apology can go with my sister.”

“Apologize for what?” I shake my head. Has Esme even been listening? “I haven’t done anything.I’mthe one who deserves some acknowledgement in regards to how awfulshe’sbeen.”

“Except you know that’s not coming,” Esme says.

“Exactly.”

I look out at the horizon. I love this view. I remember how excited I was when Arie first showed it to me, and how everything seemed possible then. It was all a dream at that point, but we made it a reality. We created this place together.

Can I really walk away from that?

“I think you’re making my point for me, Esme,” I say, referring to her comment that Arie will never apologize. “Honestly, your sister’s the one you should be giving a pep-talk. Not me.”

“I’ve tried,” Esme admits, her features darkening with defeatism.

“And?”

“She’s stubborn as a rhinoceros.”

“Right,” I agree. “I get that I’m the softie in this friendship, and that’s why you’re trying to get me to start building bridges instead of her. But what you don’t realize, Esme, is I’m always the one apologizing first. I’m the one who makes compromises and does what she needs. Not the other way around. I’m the one always bending to rein her in. That’s a one-sided friendship. And worse, it’s a really hard way to run a business.”

“It’ll break her if you leave,” Esme warns, her eyes wetting with emotion.

“Yes,” I nod. “It’ll break a part of me, too.”

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