I’ve also been doing my best to keep my promises to Monroe, the ones I made about finally being myself, about living my life and not an idea of what I think my life must be. I put all that distance between my employees and I because I thought that’s what it took to succeed. I put all my focus on power and not enough of it on the people I had power over.
Tonight is about proving just how different things are now, to Monroe and Bento, and also to myself.
I never knew how much the chance I took on Bento meant to him. His English and French were rudimentary when he arrived in Canada. He could barely fill out an application form, never mind secure an interview, and there was no one willing to help. He was going hungry by the time he got his first pay cheque from me.
I didn’t know any of that when I hired him. All I knew was that I didn’t need someone who could talk the customers’ ears off; I just needed someone who could make good chicken. It didn’t even occur to me to ask about his life. He was a tool in my kit, a step in my plan.
I wasn’t someone who deserves the toast he raises in my name tonight, but I hope I’m becoming worthy.
I hope I’m becoming worthy of the woman at my side.
Bento seems to have made the evening into a grand affair; there are nearly a dozen people crammed at the table, and there’s still far too much food for us all. I eat until I’m more full than I’ve been in my life, and then Bento piles another load onto my plate and makes me eat some more. It helps that everything tastes like someone beamed it down here from heaven.
“We aresonot having sex tonight,” Monroe mumbles just loud enough for me to hear as we’re all settling into the living room once the meal is finally done. “Or doing any physical activity at all. I’m going to need at least a week to digest.”
“I think I’m full enough that I’m not even going to try changing your mind.”
We sag on the couch like oversized slugs while Bento flits through the room, somehow as agile as ever as he hands out wine glasses and pours the red I brought.
“This is from France?” he questions, inspecting the label.
“From one of my family’s wineries,” I answer.
There’s no way to say that without sounding like a complete tool, but Bento just inspects the bottle with eager interest.
“What should we toast this time?” he asks after pouring his own glass.
I look around the room, at the kids curled up by their parents’ feet and at Bento’s arm around his wife. I look at Monroe, sitting there without her shoes on, her hands wrapped around her wine glass and her thigh pressed up against mine.
“To more,” I offer. “To more of this.”
Bento lifts his glass. “To more of this!”
The words echo around the room, and as I take a sip of the rich, ripe flavour, letting it play across my senses like a song before I swallow it down, I know that no other victory will ever taste as good as this.
Twenty-Two
Monroe
BRILLIANT: A descriptor used to indicate an exceptionally pure and clear sparkling wine
The first tilepeels off the bathroom wall like a flake of dead skin. Zach and Dylan start cheering.
“Why is that so fucking satisfying?” Dylan jokes as the worker continues chipping away.
“Because those tiles were probably a health hazard. How long do you think they’ve been there?” Zach replies.
I shudder at the thought. “I don’t want to know. Let’s leave these guys to work in peace.”
Zach and Dylan wanted to stay on as investors even after I got the property for free. I have to look at the legal evidence every single day to actually believe Taverne Toulouse is mine, but there’s still a lot of money that needs to be poured into this place before it will live up to my plans. I doubt it would have been possible to move ahead without Zach and Dylan’s help.
We’ll be closed for at least three months, which means the staff are still taking a hard hit despite all my best efforts to keep everyone employed. Almost all of them are working other jobs now, but they know they’ll have a place here if they decide to come back.
That was the hardest part of making the decision to close for so long. Telling the staff that I’d saved the bar only to announce they wouldn’t be getting pay cheques for the foreseeable future was enough to make me question whether we really needed the renovations, but Julien helped remind me that this isn’t just about what’s best for everyone else.
I’m allowed to have a dream too, and this is my chance to go after it.
“I have something I want to ask you guys,” I announce once the three of us are all crammed into my office.
