3 - Les Bistros Français

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Les Bistros Français was a new restaurant in the Old Port. There were plenty of restaurants to choose from, but for every one that succeeded one failed. As far as Bethany could tell this one was still creating a buzz, and she had wanted to try it. She arrived alone as Lucas was running late as usual. He was never late for work but was always late leaving it. She gave his name to the maître'd who greeted and led her to a small table set for two. She told the waitperson who appeared quickly that she'd wait to order a drink and began perusing the menu. There was a French flair, but unlike most restaurants these days she recognized some dishes. Even though it was French, it was not overly ecliptic and some recipes were French with a Maine twist like the Down East Bouillabaisse which featured lobster.

She had read the menu twice by the time Lucas finally arrived. He attempted to apologize and make an excuse, but she held her hand up. Whatever his reason was it involved a client or a sale or both. He kissed her cheek as a greeting and sat down in the chair across from her. He started with the wine list and looked up at her. "White or red?"

"I have to work in the morning, so only one glass for me."

"I was hoping to get you feeling good because we never had make-up sex." He winked.

Laughing nervously, she looked around. "I hadn't realized that we made up."

"I sensed a truce this morning." He held her hand.

How could something that was not right, feel so good? A blush crept up her cheeks, and the warmth spread, perhaps she would pretend they made up. Changing the subject, she asked, "How did you get them to agree to have the party here?"

"The owner is a client, a renter. I told him about the foundation, and he offered. Apparently, his partner is the pastry chef and lucky for us, he convinced her to agree."

"Well, I'm excited to start planning. It's only six weeks away."

Lucas said, "You can meet Chef tonight. You'll be working with him."

She ignored the memory, the title chef evoked. Their conversation was light, and she savored each bite. Too often Bethany found she needed to steer their talk away from sensitive subjects just to keep the peace, like her house and their future.

"The pastry chef is supposed to be incredible. I heard that she trained in France."

Feeling uncomfortable in her pants, she refused the mille-feuille pastry with two forks. After he teased her, she took a few bites. "For research." She joked.

Halfway through his dessert, Lucas said, "Here comes the chef now."

Lucas was smiling over her shoulder. As he stood and greeted the chef with a handshake, Bethany just stared at the man in front of her. He had changed only slightly in the past six years. There was maturity in his face, but it only made him look more handsome in his chef's whites. She didn't even hear Lucas as he introduced them. "Bethany, Bethany. Did you hear me?"

"What? Oh sorry, I was distracted."

The familiar face was smiling.

"Meet Oliver Barton."

"Oliver." She kept her voice as calm as she could muster.

"Bethany. I'm looking forward to working with you." Oliver's blue eyes bore into her. The beautiful eyes that she never thought she'd see again.

She looked away and said dismissively, "I'll take care of everything. We'll probably just need to email back and forth occasionally. I'm sure you're very busy."

"I'll let you enjoy your mille-feuille in peace then." He quickly disappearing.

Lucas snapped at her. "What's wrong with you? You were rude."

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