Footsteps of the Past (Second Chances #2) - Felice Stevens Page 0,4
We’d better get going.”
Three hours later, Chess groaned and rubbed his stomach. “I swear there’s a food baby in there somewhere. I can’t eat another bite.” They sat in a tiny place called Kai Feng Fu in Sunset Park, demolishing the soup dumplings and pork buns, along with several other dishes.
“Considering we ate everything but the napkins, that’s good.” Elliot poured himself a glass of water. “I may not eat for a week.” He took some notes on his tablet. “Which was your favorite? I’m interested in your opinions.”
“I don’t know. Vanessa’s was great, but I’d rather support lesser-known restaurants that aren’t in trendy Williamsburg. So, Yaso Tangbao in downtown Brooklyn for the pork buns and spicy-pork soup dumplings, but this place for the crispy pork and scallion dumplings. Mmm.” He licked his fingers. “I’m gonna have to bring André here. These are the best soup dumplings I’ve tasted outside of Shanghai.”
“He’s been away a long time, hasn’t he? The last few times we’ve gotten together he hasn’t been with you.”
“Almost six months.” Chess propped his chin in his hand, staring at the wall.
Perhaps his tone gave it away, because Elliot stopped typing and set aside the tablet, his eyes narrowed. “You’re upset.”
Caught off guard, he stumbled. “Uh, what? No. What do I have to be upset about?”
“Don’t bullshit me. I can tell something’s wrong.” Now that Elliot had his life settled, he thought he could concentrate on and manage Chess’s. “Is it André? It can’t be easy for you to be separated so much.”
No way would he complain about his life. To complain meant good things were taken away. He’d learned that as a kid.
“We’re fine—great. I’m used to it by now, and it’s not like he’s out partying. He works so hard and puts so much pressure on himself, that when he comes home, it takes some time to decompress. I want to make things easy for him.”
“I get that.” Elliot regarded him thoughtfully. “It’s like when Win finishes a big case. There’s so much adrenaline running through him, it takes him a day or so to come back to earth.”
Chess cackled. “I bet I can guess what his stress relief is.”
“Idiot.” Turning red in the face, Elliot signaled to the waiter. “Check, please.”
Outside the restaurant, Elliot waited with him for his car. Chess had offered to drop him at home, but Elliot waved him off. “I want to go shopping at the supermarkets here and pick up some stuff I can’t get in my neighborhood. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Cradling the order of promised dumplings for Martine, Chess watched his car roll to a stop. He hopped into the back seat and settled in with a sigh. It had been good to catch up with Elliot, but he would have to learn to keep his emotions under wraps. If Elliot could see through him, God only knew what Wolf and Spencer would latch on to when they all got together next.
His phone buzzed, and thinking it might be a text from André, he scrambled to pull it out of his pocket, but when he checked, it wasn’t a text at all; he’d been tagged in photos that turned his blood to ice: André, eyes closed, drink in hand, had his lips pressed to another man’s. Chess swiped through the collage to see André dancing in a large group of people, or with his arms around different people, all with a huge smile on his face like he hadn’t seen from him in a very long time. Chess recognized André’s sister and brother in the crowd, but he kept returning to the man André was kissing.
Who the fuck is that?
Chapter Two
“Thank you.”
André accepted the glass of champagne from the waiter and stood. Expectant faces beamed up at him, except for Henry, who sat on his phone, and Bianca, who he knew would rather be in Paris at the fashion shows. But for once, his mother appeared satisfied. The negotiations had been a success, and all that was left now that the dinner was over was some final mingling and pressing of hands.
“To a wonderful partnership between Webster Properties and Carnegie House.” He lifted his glass. “May we create beauty and magic together.”
“Hear, hear,” Tobias Carnegie, owner of the architectural firm, called out. “To André Webster, who made it all happen. For all the endless hours of work he put in, he’s the man not only of the hour, but of the year.”