Happily Ever After Collection - Melanie Moreland Page 0,28
in the corner of the sofa, the movie ready to play. Gerard was stretched out in the chair beside me. Tonight, he had created a spread of finger food to snack on while we watched the film. He was a brilliant chef, but severe early onset arthritis in his joints prevented him from being in the kitchen for long periods. Instead, he became Byron’s right-hand man, his essential maître d, and business partner. There was no one Byron relied on, trusted, or respected more. Gerard and Byron developed the menus, shared recipes, and both admitted to never wanting to have a restaurant without the other. Their teamwork was what made them such a success.
I adored Gerard, not only for how he treated Byron, but for how wonderful a person he was—kind, thoughtful, sweet. I’d never seen him lose his temper or even appear upset—he seemed unflappable. I was surprised he wasn’t married, but as he explained to me one day, he had never allowed himself the time to find the right person when he was younger—far too busy becoming a chef and opening his own place, he let time slip past. I scoffed at him, reminding him he was only forty, which was hardly in his dotage. He only shook his head, telling me he had a good life, was happy and settled, and that was all he wanted. He did, however, admit he was thrilled Byron had found me and wouldn’t be alone the way he was. Byron, he said with a gentle smile, had so much to give.
He only shook his head when I replied I felt that he, Gerard, did as well.
Byron and I tried to include him in as much of our life as we could. Dinners, movie night, whenever we could, we made sure he was part of it. He wasn’t much older than Byron, yet I knew Byron thought of him as a father figure. To me, he was a favorite older brother.
Gerard laughed loudly as I described my new professor and the fact that we shared a love of McMuffins. Although he wasn’t as vehement in his dislike of fast food as Byron, he preferred to cook himself. He was pleased at how excited I was about the direction Lila seemed to be heading in since he loved to hear about school and what I was learning.
A knock at the door startled me; it was then I remembered Lila was dropping off a book.
“That’s her now.” I grinned. “You can meet her yourself.”
“I’ll get another plate.”
I nodded. “She’ll love that!”
Lila breezed in, chatting about everything she’d done that day and laughing over some things she’d seen on campus. She admired the house, and when Gerard appeared, she was rendered speechless for a moment before shaking his hand and accepting the offer to stay and enjoy the movie with us, tempted, no doubt, by the delicious repast he had prepared. She sat down, accepting not only the plate but a glass of wine. Gerard started the movie then proceeded to ignore the screen, as did Lila. The two of them started talking about different places they’d both visited, books they’d read, and she praised his cooking, asking questions about ingredients as she sampled various tidbits.
“Is this tarragon with the chicken?”
“Yes, it is, Lila.” Gerard beamed at her.
“Do I detect a hint of saffron?”
“You do!”
I sat in the chair, watching them, also ignoring the movie. What was happening in front of me was far more entertaining. Gerard was effusive, happy, his hands gesturing as he spoke, sometimes so quick his words ran together. There was something different about him. Then it dawned on me—he was nervous. Unflappable Gerard was nervous. I watched them closer. Lila had two bright spots of color on her cheeks, and her dark eyes never left his face as he spoke.
They liked each other. A lot.
I hugged myself. Until that very second I’d never thought about it, but they were perfect for each other. Polar opposites in some ways, they complemented each other. Her flightiness was the perfect contrast to his steady countenance. Her very presence made him lighter. Byron often said the same thing about me in relation to him.
Gerard stood. “We need more wine.”
Lila’s gaze followed him across the room, then her eyes met mine, widening in panic. I smirked, about to tease her, when she suddenly leaped to her feet.
“I have to go.”
I frowned. “But—”
She shook her head, almost running for the door. “I’m so sorry!”