Ezra glared at me. “That’s enough out of you.” I smiled innocently and grabbed another grape.
“What kind of car is it?” Vann asked, amused with the entire conversation.
When we all looked at Ezra, his gaze moved to the ceiling before he admitted, “Alfa Romeo. The Coupe.”
Vann’s eyes widened. “The 4C?”
“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Vera asked her brother. “I thought they were the arch nemesis of Mother Nature? The slow poison humanity is addicted to?”
Vann barked out a laugh. “I’ve never said that.”
“It’s the mantra of your granola loving brethren,” Vera challenged.
Vann waved her off. “That’s not just any car, Vere. That’s a sweet ass car.”
I half expected the guys to start high-fiving each other. They didn’t. But you could tell they wanted to.
“It is pretty cool. The seats are super comfortable.” I confirmed, which only made Killian curse creatively.
“I’ll give you a ride right now,” Ezra told Killian. “Let’s go.”
Killian looked around the kitchen, his shoulders sinking with defeat. “But dinner’s ready.”
“Really?” Ezra sympathized, not sounding disappointed at all. “Oh, well.”
“Selfish bastard,” Killian grumbled.
“Whiny baby,” Ezra countered.
“Okay, everybody, go sit down,” Vera said in an extra chipper voice. “We’ll bring it out to you.”
“What can I carry?” I asked as I moved to standing again.
Vera handed me a basket of rolls and an uncorked bottle of wine. “We’re probably going to need more of that.”
I contemplated drinking straight from it. “Yes, we are.”
She turned back to the stove and I headed for the dining room. Ezra and Vann had already taken their seats, Vann at the head of the table and Ezra on one side. I took my time setting the rolls in the middle of the table and filling up wine glasses and passing them out.
It shouldn’t be this troublesome to pick a chair, but I couldn’t decide where to go. Finally, Killian and Vera came in carrying the most amazing smelling dishes with them. I grabbed the other seat at the head of the table. Killian could fight me for it.
“We’re eating family style tonight,” Killian smiled, steam wafting in front of his face. “This is the best rib roast you will ever eat. You can all thank me later.”
Vera set her dishes down and added, “To accompany, we have Brussels sprouts braised with bacon and cranberries with some shredded Pecorino to finish. And then we’ve got a lobster mac and cheese that honestly is probably better than Killian’s prime rib. But don’t tell him that. He gets sulky when I outcook him.” She shot him a saucy smile. He just shook his head at her.
“Don’t get any ideas, Ezra,” Killian warned his friend. “If this pops up on Lilou’s menu next week, I’ll find out.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Vera laughed.
“Hey, when I did it, it was flirting,” Killian defended himself.
Vera turned to me. “I had not realized until just now that he was flirting with me when he stole my recipes and served them at Lilou. This is breaking news.”
I snorted. “Only to you, my friend. Pretty sure the rest of us knew exactly what was going on.”
Vann and Ezra agreed with me causing Vera to protest loudly, officially launching us into more comfortable territory. Killian continued to give Ezra a hard time about the car while Vera and I discussed wedding details. Vann jumped back and forth between conversations never really landing, although he didn’t seem to mind.
By the second glass of wine, I’d started regretting my decision to wear skinny jeans. I should have picked an outfit with more room. Like sweatpants. Or a muumuu.
“Don’t get too full!” Vera warned. “There’s still dessert.”
The rest of us groaned. Having dinner at Killian and Vera’s was basically like eating Thanksgiving supper, only the dishes were the kind that shaped modern American cuisine and there was no watery Jell-O salad.
“Molly, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the painting,” Killian said, nodding toward a canvas I’d painted at Vera’s request. It was a smaller version of the Foodie logo I’d hand-painted on her Airstream turned food truck. Since Foodie had relaunched her culinary career and led her to Killian, she’d wanted something for their house. I’d painted Foodie the same way I’d done on the side of her truck, but added the top half of a silver Airstream in the right corner and Lilou’s simple silhouette in the top left corner. “It looks awesome. You did a really great job.”
I pushed a leftover Brussels sprout around my plate. “Oh, thanks. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Vera and I were talking and we’d love for you to create some originals for the restaurant.”
Vera grinned at me, but all I could do was shake my head at her. She was always pushing me to paint more, make it public, sell pieces. I knew it was hard for her to understand why I didn’t want to. She was all about following your dreams and going hard after the things you loved most in life.
But that was because she had turned her dream into a career.
There wasn’t a stable future in painting. Painting was way harder to make lucrative than cooking. Plus, Vera was an exceptional chef. She wasn’t just good at what she did, she was the best. And now with Killian by her side, they were totally unstoppable.
It wasn’t the same for me. I wasn’t interested in turning the thing I loved most into a job. It was my escape from reality. It was my therapy and sanity and hope all wrapped up in one, selfish activity. I didn’t want to give that away to everyone. I didn’t want to cheapen what I loved so very much by putting a price tag on it.
“What are you thinking?” I asked Killian just to be polite. I would talk to Vera about her overstepping later. Much later. When we weren’t surrounded by three super successful men that would have no idea how to relate to my non-ambitions.
“Maybe six originals? Four? You can look at the space and decide for yourself what we need.” Killian suggested. “They can be all different sizes. We’d like a longer one above the bar and a really big one along the back wall.”
Immediately, ideas started popping into my head. It wasn’t that I had tried to feel inspired or intended to conceptualize a series. It just happened. Creativity was like that. She wasn’t careful or well-timed or convenient. She was a selfish hag that withheld her muse when you had time and made you drunk with inspiration the second you couldn’t do anything about it. “Portraits? Abstracts? Do you have a feeling or color scheme in mind?”
“Er, abstracts with meaning?” Killian answered. “We don’t want straight portraits, but we also want something that captures what we’re all about.”
“You mean food?” I asked with a straight face.
Killian looked at Vera, reaching over to grab her hand. “And love. And passion for both of those things. We just want like this really cool, urban feel. More gallery than hotel art if you know what I mean.”
“Killian, she’s not going to paint hotel art,” Vera groaned. “That’s so rude.”