I nod. “How did it go?”
“It was a little slow.” Leilani points to the table where some people are finished, and others still waiting. “I need to see what I can come up with.”
“I was just telling Leilani that I think we can rent some propane pizza ovens,” one of the housemen says.
“That would be great.” Corrine turns to me. “Don’t you think your guests will be in a hurry to eat so they can get started?”
I nod. “Most likely, but if we start dinner early—most of them will be on Pacific Time—we should be fine to start the game by seven. Plus, we’ll always have pupus and booze.”
Corrine is inspecting the latest pizza to emerge from the oven. “Looks fantastic. Did you like the crust recipe you made?” she asks Leilani.
“Definitely. This was a great idea.”
“It’s sooo good,” Danny says.
“Totally,” Jimmy adds.
“They’re turning into surfer dudes,” I warn Brian.
“Tell me about it. It’s the kids they play with at the park.” Melinda laughs.
“Don’t ever change, boys.” I wink at them, and they give me the hang loose sign.
The whole table cracks up.
***
Twenty minutes later, Corrine and I are seated at a small, quiet restaurant in a booth facing the beach. The waves lap quietly at the shore.
“This is the life,” Corrine says.
She’s clearly more relaxed than she was at the estate. “You’re doing a fantastic job getting ready for the party.”
“I’m just trying to stay within budget. If it rains, the tent will blow it out.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I pull her in and kiss her on the temple. “The number is purely arbitrary. Whatever it takes.”
“Nate asked for Mitchner bourbon, and I ordered a case of the twenty-five-year. I mentioned it to Gillian, but she thought he was probably interested in the gold something. I need to track that down.”
“No, you don’t. I can’t imagine Nate will be unhappy with twenty-five-year-old bourbon. You’re fine.”
“Landon wants a vegetarian meal.”
“What? He’s full of shit. We went out for burgers last week.” I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Me: You’re eating vegetarian now?”
Landon: Only organic vegetarian.
Me: You’re full of shit. My cook is going crazy trying to accommodate you. It’s okay if you are, but if you’re doing that to yank Corrine’s chain, she has a nasty bite. I’d beware.
Corrine’s phone pings.
Landon: I was just kidding about being vegetarian. Please don’t go out of your way for me. I’ll eat whatever you have.
We laugh.
Corrine: Pig shit for you then. Leilani will put rat poison in your meals as payback.
Landon: I will bring her something special from the mainland.
Landon: Something for both of you.
Corrine: Groveling works well.
Our meal arrives, and we talk about the state of the company and my admin worries, politics, and issues with the final stage of the renovations at the estate.
“Do you think Leilani is going to do well as majordomo?” I ask.
“The staff loves her. She struggles with the bills, but I can set those up on automatic pay, no problem.”
When we’ve finished, they deliver a chocolate soufflé for dessert. Corrine’s moans of appreciation make me want to spread it all over her body and lick it off all night long. But first I need to gauge where we are.
“I hear you when you tell me you’re worried I’m going to end this after a few months,” I tell her, taking her hand. “But I need you to know that’s not going to happen. I miss waking up with you and spending the days working by your side and the nights… Tell me you’re considering moving in when we return.”
She sighs. “I was thinking I could move into Gabby’s place since she’s moving in with Damien.”
My heart drops. “You don’t want to move in with me?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” I implore.
She plays with her napkin, and I know she has something to say, but she’s reluctant to tell me. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I lean in and kiss her temple. “Corrine, if this distance between us has done anything, it’s given me a lot of clarity. I’m hopelessly in love with you. I have been since long before we started dating, and I didn’t even realize it. I will wait for you as long as you need me to.”
She smiles. But she doesn’t return my declaration.
“At least we’ll still work together, right?” I ask.
She looks away and takes a deep breath. “Not when this is over. I need to find another job. I can’t work for you any longer. You knew this when you moved me here, and that hasn’t changed.”
“Why not?” I demand louder than I mean to.
“Have you looked at your call sheets over the last few weeks?”
“I look at them every day.” I’m confused about what that has to do with anything.
“They’re filled with the women you’ve slept with, who want to sleep with you, and those that would do anything to sleep with you. I can’t answer those calls anymore.”
“I’ve already told you, I’ll hire you an assistant who answers the calls.”
“I still can’t work for you. I need some separation, something that’s my own. You can keep the stock options if you want them.”
My head hurts. “I want to make this work.”
“If we’re going to make us work, we’ll have to do it while I’m working for someone else.”
“You don’t think men look at you and want to bed you?”
She snorts as if she has horns and warts all over her face. She truly has no idea how stunning she is.
