Lexi clapped her hands together. “You brought me dinner, like I asked.”
“You didn’t tell me he was coming over.” If Alex knew that Will was coming by, outside of a large party where she could effectively dodge him, she was always sure to make herself scarce.
And the look on Lexi’s face told Alex that she knew that Alex made a habit of avoiding Will, and that’s why she hadn’t said anything about Will stopping by with her dinner. But Lexi didn’t feel guilty about it. She couldn’t have planned for Alex to stop by, but it played into her hands. Lexi had been trying to throw Will and Alex together for ages. First, she had the excuse that they were the same age and should be friends. Then, somewhere along the line, she’d gotten the idea in her head that they should date each other. And nothing that Will or Alex did or said would dissuade her.
Lexi would never accept the fact that they did not belong together—not in the romantic sense, not as friends, not as anything but acquaintances who needled each other.
Will looked at her, and she didn’t see the usual derision or scorn there. “There’s enough for you.”
He was just earnest enough that she’d look like a bitch for walking out in a huff, and he was a really good cook. “I suppose I could see what all the fuss is about.”
* * *
• • •
Will had not anticipated seeing Alex Turner tonight, but he should have. Lexi was always trying to get them together. Lexi had the ill-conceived notion that Will and Alex were a perfect match. If he didn’t love his former stepmother more than any member of his biological family, it would bother him enough that he wouldn’t come around. But Lexi didn’t know—couldn’t know—why he and Alex hated each other. He’d allow her to maneuver them into the same room if that kept her happy. After all, if she was scheming, that meant that her mind was still sharp.
Yes, he wanted to see Alex because that meant that his stepmom was still mentally all there. Sure. It had nothing to do with the fact that he liked to make Alex shoot darts at him with her gaze.
He made a motion toward the kitchen, and both women moved there, Lexi with a sly smile and a flounce that wouldn’t have been out of place on a stage, and Alex with a side-eye that would make another man’s dick freeze right off.
Will didn’t look at her as he plated up the meal that he’d planned to share with Lexi. He could make it stretch. He opened the fridge to see if there were any leftovers he could use to augment the meal. It was late—almost midnight—but he hadn’t eaten since the staff meal at four. Lexi was a night owl, so he knew she’d probably had lunch around the same time.
He’d never thought he’d work harder than when he was coming up through the ranks of a Michelin star kitchen with a tyrant of a boss, but opening his own restaurant was another beast entirely. It wasn’t just the long days of recipe testing and assuring investors that he wasn’t throwing their money down the drain; it was waking up in the middle of the four hours he was allowed to sleep worrying that he wasn’t up for this.
Two years ago, he’d been married and between jobs. Now he was divorced and social media famous because he’d started making Instagram Live videos of the meals he was cooking at home. Some people on the Internet had found his videos and thought he was sexy, and he’d gained so many followers that he now had the opportunity to own a restaurant—his lifelong dream.
But the social media notoriety was a double-edged sword. It meant that his marriage falling apart had been a public thing. He’d never wanted to be divorced at all. The fact that he and his ex were part of a listicle of “Celebrities Whose Marriages Didn’t Make It,” made it just a little bit more painful. All this opportunity was a good thing, but it didn’t make him any less divorced and stressed-out. But taking care of Lexi—at least by feeding her—made him feel better. So he made sure to do that.
And he knew that Alex didn’t take care of herself well enough to recall the last time she’d eaten. The woman was infuriating that way. Even as a teen, he’d had to remind her to eat instead of going twelve straight hours studying. Her single-minded determination and focus were probably why she was the best divorce lawyer in town, but they were also why she looked like skin and bones tonight.
Both she and Lexi sat on the other side of the island and watched him. He could feel the pride coming off of Lexi. She was the one who’d guided him to food. When he’d shown up at her house with his father, he hadn’t quite known what to expect.
Lexi Turner was a legendary jazz singer and actress. Even though jazz wasn’t as popular as it had been during her heyday, he’d heard of her. And he’d been shocked when she’d married his father, a shipping executive with no discernable charm.
Will had been unprepared for Lexi’s kindness and warmth. She hadn’t gotten irritated when he’d stopped heading to his mother’s place on the weekends and stayed at Lexi’s. And she hadn’t kicked him to the curb the same way she had his father when she’d realized that Michael Harkness was not capable of keeping up with her.
No one could keep up with Lexi, but that didn’t keep her from trying to find love over and over again. Even now, he would put good money on her having at least three boyfriends.
Will admired Lexi for that. She failed and tried again, no matter how public and messy her failures were. Will didn’t have that in him. He’d tried once, and now he was done. He couldn’t afford another failure—literally.
“How is Caleb working out for you?” Alex had told him that she couldn’t represent him in his divorce case—something about a conflict of interest because she hated him—so she’d referred him to a colleague. According to her, he was “not as good as me, but very, very good.”
Will looked up and saw that her interest was genuine. “Well, April hasn’t taken my clothes and shoes.” And there weren’t any children involved. “I guess I’m doing all right.”
“Are you dating anyone new?” That must not be Lexi’s first martini if she thought he was going to be dating again. Now. Or ever.
Will didn’t want to disappoint her, though. Lexi would expect him to be resilient and at least make the effort to put himself out there. So he just grunted and put her plate in front of her. Branzino in a light lemon butter sauce, over roasted fennel, with micro-greens on top.
“So, no?”
He ignored Lexi and poured a glass of the sauvignon blanc he’d found in the fridge for himself. He held up the bottle and looked at Alex. She shrugged and said, “Why not, I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight anyway,” so he poured her a glass, too.
They ate in almost silence, punctuated by Lexi’s exclamations about how “my boy is so talented” and little sounds that Alex made in lieu of words. He might avoid Alex Turner as though his life depended on it, but her reaction to his food was gratifying on a level he didn’t want to think about.