Recipe for a Broken Heart

Chapter.14

Chapter 14 — Meeting the Family

Word about the gala moved through the office fast, and by Monday, there was no more pretending. Priya greeted her at the elevator with a triumphant grin, the betting pool apparently settled once and for all, and even Ravi from finance offered a quiet congratulations.

Camille had braced herself for awkwardness, but what she found instead was relief. She no longer had to measure her expressions around Étienne's office door.

The relationship settled into its own rhythm over the following two weeks — dinners that stretched later than planned, quiet Sunday afternoons with pastries from a bakery he swore was the closest thing to Lyon he'd found, long phone calls that left her smiling at the ceiling.

It was Marcus, tired of hearing about a man he'd never met, who broke the standoff. "You've been dating this guy a month now. Bring him around already."

"It's been three weeks, and it's not that serious yet."

"Camille. You hum at your desk. People don't hum over things that aren't serious." Marcus crossed his arms. "Ma keeps asking about him too. It's honestly unbearable."

She extended the invitation with more nerves than she expected. Étienne accepted immediately.

"You are worried," he observed. "I am hardly a stranger to meeting families."

"This is my mother. My brother. If they don't like you, it matters more than you'd think."

"Then I will simply have to be likeable."

He arrived Sunday with wine, flowers, and French pastries, looking faintly nervous himself. Her mother opened the door before Camille could reach it. "So you're the famous Étienne. I've heard an awful lot about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Mostly good things," her mother said, deadpan, ushering him in.

Dinner unfolded more easily than Camille had dared hope. At one point, Marcus leaned forward. "So, real talk. You run half a company, you clearly have money. What are you doing with my sister?"

"Marcus!"

"It's a fair question," her mother murmured.

Étienne considered it seriously. "I think you have the equation backward. It is not what I am doing with Camille — it is what someone like her would ever want with someone like me. Money has never once made a person interesting to me. Character has. And your sister has more of it than anyone I have met in a very long time."

Marcus sat back, visibly disarmed. "Okay. Good answer. I take back some suspicion."

"Only some?"

"I'm still keeping an eye on you."

"So what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?" her mother asked directly, between the main course and dessert.

"Ma."

"It's a fair question." She turned back to Étienne. "Well?"

"My intentions are serious, Mrs. Bennett. I do not pursue things casually. I care for Camille a great deal. I intend to keep earning that, for as long as she will let me."

Her mother studied him, then nodded, satisfied. "Good answer. I like him. Camille, you can keep this one."

Later, Étienne helped clear the table despite her mother's protests. "I am not very good at being waited on. It makes me restless."

Camille watched him move around the kitchen, drying dishes, and felt something ache with warmth she hadn't let herself feel in years.

She walked him to his car afterward. "Your family is wonderful," he said, pulling her close. "Your mother in particular."

"She liked you. She didn't like David nearly this fast."

"I intend to keep it that way." He kissed her softly. "Thank you for trusting me with them."

"Thank you for being worth trusting."

Inside, her mother was settled on the couch with tea. "You look different tonight. Lighter."

"I feel different." Camille rested her head against her mother's shoulder. "I keep waiting for it to feel too good to be true."

"That's David talking, not you. He didn't just break your heart, baby. He broke your ability to trust good things when they show up. That takes time. But don't let his shadow steal this before it's even had a real chance."

"I'm trying not to."

"I watched you try all through dinner, every time you caught yourself smiling too much and reined it back in. You don't have to do that here. Not with him, and certainly not with us." Her mother pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "He's a good man, from what I saw tonight. Let yourself have this."

"When did you get so wise about all this?"

"I raised two kids alone for over a decade. Wisdom was mandatory." Her mother laughed, rising to carry her teacup to the kitchen. "Now go to bed. Something tells me you'll want to be well rested for whatever teasing Priya has waiting."

Camille climbed into bed that night feeling something steadier than happiness underneath it all — something that, for the first time in two long years, finally felt safe to keep.