“Priest?” Robbie said, and when Priest looked over his shoulder, what Robbie saw in those eyes made his heart ache.
Priest had been a pillar of strength throughout all of this, never once showing signs of weakness. But right now, Robbie could see the underlying worry, the grave concern Priest was trying so hard to contain, swirling in troubled eyes that were filled with self-recrimination.
“Priest,” Robbie said, taking Priest’s uninjured hand. “Do you want a quick shower? It might help clear your head.”
“No,” Priest said, his voice barely audible, and when Robbie saw the phone sitting on the table beside Priest’s leg, he knew why.
Priest didn’t want to be in a position where he couldn’t answer a phone. Where he couldn’t leave in an instant if he had to, or get out that door and save Julien should the opportunity arise, and Robbie couldn’t blame him—not one bit.
“But I’m glad you did,” Priest said, and touched his fingers to the lapel of the robe Robbie had on.
Robbie moved in closer to Priest’s side and cradled his cheek. “Hey? Good thoughts, remember? Tomorrow we’re going to find Julien and bring him home.”
When Priest looked away, Robbie had a feeling it was to hide the fact that Priest might not believe that as strongly as he had earlier. But there was no way Robbie was going to let him go down that road.
He moved until he was standing between Priest and the window. “You told me that, remember? You told me that Jimmy wants something, and Julien is the way of getting it. He’s not going to jeopardize that. We’re going to get Julien back.”
Priest said nothing. It was as though he were shutting down, his fight from earlier having left him now that Henri was gone and there was nothing to do but wait.
Robbie shook his head, his emotions threatening to consume him and drag him under. Seeing Priest so forlorn, so defeated, was heart-wrenching, and when the silence became too much to bear, Robbie could no longer hold his emotions back.
“Don’t do this,” Robbie said, and when Priest’s eyes opened, the tragic look in them had Robbie’s lip quivering. “Don’t shut down and close me out. I know you’re scared for him, so am I, but you have to keep fighting. You have to keep believing and seeing the man we love and remember. We’re going to get him back.” Robbie’s eyes blurred, and he dropped his hands by his sides. “I need you to believe that, because if you don’t—” Robbie clamped his mouth shut, refusing to voice his final thoughts, and when it seemed Priest would remain silent, Robbie went to walk away, only to feel a hand on his arm stopping him.
“I keep thinking,” Priest said, his voice broken. “If Julien had never tried to steal my car that day…”
Robbie felt a tear slip free and fall down his cheek. “If he’d never tried to steal your car, you would’ve had eight miserable years of eating horribly cooked food.”
Priest took a step toward Robbie and rested their foreheads against one another. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him.”
“Stop it,” Robbie whispered. “You didn’t do this, and Julien would be the first to tell you that.”
“Yes, but if he hadn’t—”
“But he did,” Robbie said. “He did steal your car—or try to—and it started this crazy love that you two have, and Priest? I love that story.” Robbie brought a hand up to cover Priest’s heart. “Will you do something for me?”
“Yes,” Priest said, his voice full of gravel, full of raw emotion, his broken heart in his eyes.
“Tell me more of it. Take us away from here and now.” Robbie drew Priest over to the bed and scooted up on it until he was sitting with his back against the headboard, and then patted the spot beside him. “Bring Julien back to us in a way that only you can.”
Priest sat down and took Robbie’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Did he ever tell you about the night we got engaged?”
“No, he didn’t,” Robbie said. “Will you?”
Priest leaned his head back against the headboard, shut his eyes, and took a deep inhale. Then he let it out and said, “Yes, let me tell you…”
“GREAT FIRST MONTH, chef,” Lise called, as she shoved through the front door of JULIEN and stepped out into the parking lot.
It’d just hit midnight, and Priest had been waiting all day for this moment as he watched Lise’s boss, and the owner of the hottest restaurant in L.A., walk out into the warm summer night.
As Julien Thornton came into view, Priest caught his breath at the sight. Dressed in his chef’s uniform—black pants and a white chef’s jacket with black buttons—Julien looked the part of a man who’d spent the night in a high-end kitchen.