“That’s why we get on so well,” he said as he leaned his elbows on the counter, bending his powerful body down so that it was level with her gaze. “We instinctively pair the right spices together.”
She nodded at that. They did get on well in the kitchen. If she’d found a man like Alex before her self-imposed exile from the land of relationships, she might have not left.
“Jan, have you thought more about my proposal?”
A kernel of salt went down the wrong pipe, and Jan coughed. Alex handed her a glass of water. She drank mightily before she was able to speak again.
“What proposal?”
“Back at the airport when Leo proposed to Esme. I asked you to open a restaurant with me.”
She did remember that. Mainly because he’d leaned down and whispered in her ear. The smell of cherries and pepper had made her feel dizzy then, but she had her wits about her now. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I was. I am. What is it you say; only iron can sharpen iron.”
“Yes, my dear prince, but you prefer your women to be plastic.”
She’d meant it as a joke. The aim had been to put them back on their silly banter because surely that’s where this particular conversation was leading. Only for the short duration of it, Alex had been dead serious. And now, his easy grin fell, like she’d actually hurt him.
He turned away from her, taking her unfinished puff pastry with him. He tossed the remaining half eaten blanketed wiener into the trash. Instead of addressing her, he turned on the faucet and began scrubbing at the plate.
Jan hopped off her stool and approached him like a wounded animal. He was a wounded animal. He was a man whose ego she’d bruised.
“Alex, you have an amazing palate. You’re a really good cook. But …”
He turned and faced her. “But?”
“But you’re a prince.”
“Prince is a noun.” He turned off the faucet and tossed the dish towel on the counter. “I want to verb. I want to do something with my life.”
Alex reached for her hand. She gave it. Her hand felt warm in his.
“I know you think I’m a flake.”
“I …” But she let the sentence trail off.
“I’ve only ever been loyal to food. I’m serious about this. I want to open a restaurant. And I can’t see myself doing it with anyone but you.”
It felt like a proposal. A proposal, and a walk down an aisle was the last thing Jan wanted to face again in her life. She pulled her hands away from Alex’s and ducked them in the dirty dish water.
“People break their word all the time,” she said. “I can’t afford that.”
“I’ve never broken my word to you.”
“You’ve never had to give it.”
“I’m offering it now.”
“I don’t want it,” Jan snapped.
The tether holding all the pain of standing in the aisle, the misery of others whispering behind her back, in front of her face, all the looks of pity weighed down on Jan, and she broke apart. Anger spilled out of Jan. Pure, red, hot anger. Unfortunately, it scalded the wrong man.
Alex had turned from her. He was putting his jacket on as he headed toward the stairs.
Jan shut her eyes. It took a few breaths before she carefully and meticulousl
y retied the knot of her anger and disappointment and betrayal. Once the bow was pulled tight, she went after Alex.