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Grandma crept up on me and put her arms around me. “How are you feeling, honey?”
I set the knife down and took comfort in her embrace while placing my arms around hers. “I feel good.” My body had healed. I was still working on my soul. I inadvertently touched the pearl necklace John had given me, hidden under my mock turtleneck sweater. I was still no fan of John, but the reminder of Charlotte was precious to me.
“Why so down, then? Are we missing our husband?” I heard the “I told you so” in her voice. She had been against us separating, though that didn’t technically happen. She had tried to hide her glee when I moved back to Brock’s place. She had no idea why I had. She had no idea why I had stayed. Not even I was sure anymore. With every call and email Brock and I had shared the past several weeks, I was reminded how much I loved him and missed him. Staying at his place had become about more than buying time. It had become about preserving time.
“Yes, I miss him,” I admitted out loud.
“You get to talk to him tonight, right?” Kinsley asked.
“Yeah.”
Grandma gave me a squeeze. “Well, cheer up. He’ll be home before you know it. And today we eat pie.”
I turned out of Grandma’s arms and grinned at all the pies Kinsley and Grandma had already placed on the island. Everything from pumpkin to cranberry-apple. Ariana would be bringing even more when she and her crew arrived soon. Pie was good. And in two weeks, I would see Brock again. All things to be thankful for.
Grandma patted my cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I went back to my assigned task. I was good at chopping things.
Tristan popped into the kitchen. “Hello, darling,” he crooned at Kinsley in his enchanting English accent. He approached her and kissed her cheek. She turned and kissed his lips before swiping some of the pumpkin-infused whipped cream onto her finger. He happily licked it off. Between those two and Jonah and Ariana, it was going to be a long day of watching lovebirds flit around me. Even Sabine and Dean, Ariana’s parents, were nauseatingly still in love after many, many years of marriage. I started to think I would sit at the kids’ table with Whitney and Sebastian and Max, Ariana’s brothers. They weren’t actually kids—they were both in college—but they were hilarious and single. And Whitney was always up for making me laugh. Besides, I needed some good dinosaur stories. Perhaps she had figured out how they mated.
The morning breezed by and, hour by hour, the house smelled more and more wonderful. Sage and thyme, mixed in with roasted turkey, wafted through the crowded house filled with laughter and smiling faces. It was amazing that, in only one year, we had more than doubled our family size, thanks to Ariana. They were all good additions. I thought about my addition to the family. It was weird to think of Brock that way, but I was technically married. Albeit, not in the traditional sense. Though no one here knew that. And Brock was hoping to make it more than in name only.
Many of our communications lately had centered on us taking the next steps—moving into the same room, making a life together, making love. I was nervous about each prospect. Brock, though, seemed so self-assured about it. I was beginning to think a lot of Brock’s therapy sessions revolved around our marriage. He’d shared several bits of counsel he had received. Advice about how we needed to decide what we wanted and be open to self-growth and improvement; we needed to be open and honest about how we felt, even expressing anger and hurt.
Pieces of me were still hurting. I had felt rejected by Brock. And being vulnerable around him scared me. I couldn’t stand the humiliation of him rejecting me again. Brock was adamant that he wouldn’t. But what if he once again took me to bed and all he could think about was me with his brother? What if I couldn’t go through with it? Brock promised me we would take it all slow when he came home. That we could make it work.
Brock had asked me to go furniture shopping with him when he got home. He wanted me to feel like the master bedroom was our room in every sense. He desperately wanted me to call his place home. If I was being honest, I wanted that too. And it was starting to feel more like home, at least with Sheridan there. Now that she was gone, it felt . . . well, it felt like I had a lot of time on my hands to think. Thankfully, this was my busiest time of year, so I had a way to distract myself.
