In Good Company: Chapter 44

“I still can’t believe you planned all of this for me,” Lucy whispers, a beaming expression on her face.

“Why is it hard to believe someone would want to plan a special surprise for you?” I counter, my attention solely focused on her. I lost track of the time when she and Enzo were cooking. I was in a trance, watching her in her element, learning from one of the best chefs in the world. It took a lot of convincing—and money—for Enzo to fly out here just for the evening with Lucy, but I would’ve paid anything to see her as happy as she’s been tonight.

Lucy takes a sip of her wine as she gathers her thoughts. I give her all the time she needs, curious to know the answer to my question. She and Enzo finished cooking over two hours ago. He sat and ate with us for a bit, answering any questions Lucy had for him before he eventually excused himself and left Lucy and me to enjoy the food they’d prepared.

She lets out a long sigh, her eyes focused on me. A candle flickers between us, the light reflecting in her big brown eyes. “I guess it isn’t hard to believe someone would want to. It’s just that no one has before.”

“You deserve all the special things, Lucy Rae,” I begin, having to clear my throat because of the emotion clogging it. If she could just spend a minute in my head, she’d realize just how special she is and how much she deserves more than what she’s used to.

Even in the candlelight, I can see the flush creep upon her face. She looks down, her eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she stares at her wineglass. “I don’t even know what to say back to you when you say sweet things like that.” Her words come out softly and directed at the table.

I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. My thumb brushes over the top of her hand as I wait for her to look at me again. “You don’t have to say anything, as long as in your head, you know just how special you are.” I want to add to that sentence and tell her how special she is to me, but I keep it to myself.

I’ve never been one who’s open with my feelings because I haven’t felt anything close to what I feel for Lucy. I didn’t have to be open about feelings that weren’t there in the first place. But now that I feel so deeply about her, it’s terrifying. She’s the first person to ever capture my attention—and my heart.

She has all the power, and I’ve never been a fan of giving people power over me.

But for her, I’ll always make an exception.

Her eyes find mine again. I could never grow tired of staring into her chestnut-brown eyes. Looking into them is beginning to feel like home, and that’s a dangerous realization. “You know, if you would’ve told me that night we were reunited at Laurent Hughes’s that this is where things were headed, I would’ve never believed you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I never would’ve guessed that you’d be personally flying a three-time Michelin-star chef out just to teach me how to cook Italian dishes because of something I mentioned once. Or that you’d spend I don’t even want to know how much on filming equipment for me just because of a silly hobby of mine.”

My lips press into a thin line at her comment. She’s one of the most talented people I’ve ever met. Enzo was even impressed by her cooking, and he didn’t strike me as the type who’s impressed often. My thumb traces circles over her knuckles. Although the touch is light, even the small amount of contact between us makes my entire body heat.

I give her hand a squeeze before letting out a long sigh. “For one, you’re a phenomenal chef, baby. Don’t discredit yourself and call it a silly hobby. Your recipes deserve to be recreated around the world, and nothing about that is silly. And for two, you should’ve known the lengths I’d go to just to see you smile after that night at Laurent’s. Because the moment I heard Thomas was trying to hire you for the summer, I gave the private chef that I’ve used for years a paid summer off just so I could tell you I needed one.”

Lucy’s jaw drops as she looks at me wide-eyed. “You what?”

I smirk before lifting a shoulder. I hadn’t planned on telling her about Randall’s sudden summer off, but it isn’t something I care to keep secret anymore. It’s got to be obvious to her how crazy I am about her.

“I’ve had the same private chef for seven years now, maybe even eight. Randall is like family, but he also has his own family. When I found out you’d be interested in taking a private chef job, I didn’t want it to be with anyone but me.”

Lucy stares at me from across the table. She shakes her head in disbelief. “So you’ve been paying me all summer and Randall as well?”

I nod before picking up my own wine glass with my free hand. I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip before carefully setting it back on the table. “Yes. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t even want to think what my summer would’ve looked like if I hadn’t made the decision to give Randall a long vacation and have you take the spot.”

A tentative smile builds on her lips as her surprise sinks in. “So that’s why people were shocked when I said I was working for you for the summer. Both Jude and Dolores had mentioned Randall. I wondered if something bad had happened with your chef before me.”

I keep my eyes trained on her, watching her carefully to see if my confession upsets her. It doesn’t seem to. Her eyes still stare at me with a softness to them. The doe-eyed way she’s always looking at me makes me want to be the best version of myself for her. “Nothing bad happened with Randall. Once I return to Manhattan in September, he’ll be back to cooking for me. Honestly, it was about time he got a break from me. But he still checks in all the time and sends me pictures of him visiting his nieces and nephews in California.”

Lucy leans forward and props her chin up with her hand. I love that it gives me an even closer view of her beautiful face. Her big, round eyes and perfectly plump lips. The freckles that form constellations on her cheeks and the tip of her nose, which always seems to be sunburnt. Everything about her is absolutely radiant, and I’ll take any close-up view of her I can get. Especially tonight, as I’m battling with myself about whether I should just admit that I have real, deep feelings for her or keep pretending that all we are is just a fling.

“How is it possible you’re so perfect?” she asks.

“The only perfect one between us is you, Lucy baby. And I ask myself almost every second of every day how I got so lucky to have someone as perfect as you even give me the time of day.”

She playfully bites her lip as she shakes her head. “No, you’re perfect, Callahan Hastings. Everything you do. The night you planned tonight, the way you even recruited Jude and Charlotte’s help. The way you still paid the chef you’ve had for years for an entire summer and then paid me double what my other offer was just so I’d say yes. God.” Her words fall off for a moment as she stares at me in disbelief. “You really are perfect.”

“It’s just because I’m crazy about you,” I admit, my heart racing inside my chest.

Saying the words out loud feels vulnerable. I can’t imagine it’s something she doesn’t already know because I feel like everything I do makes it obvious how much I care about her. I haven’t even tried hiding how I feel about her from my friends or anyone else.

I can’t fight what’s happening. Now, I just need to know that she feels something for me too, but I’m too afraid to ask, scared to have her tell me again that we’re just a fling.

I swallow, my pulse spiking with the thoughts racing through my head. All I want to do is pull her close to me and get answers. I want to beg her to admit that there’s more between us and that she’s even half as crazy about me as I am her. I want to ask her if she’d ever consider moving to Manhattan or if there’s any part of her that thinks things could work between us past the summer. There are so many things I want to know, but all the questions get stuck in my throat from fear.

I scrub my hand over my mouth, so many feelings rising to the surface. I don’t know if I can handle the answer to all of the questions running through my mind, but I’m feeling brave enough to ask one.

“Can I ask you something?” I get out, my voice hoarse.

She smiles. “Ask me anything.”

“Could you see yourself with me…even after this summer?”

My heart drops the moment she pulls her hand from mine and sits back in her chair. Whatever she’s about to say, I know it isn’t going to be what I want to hear.

And that realization tears me apart.