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“Can I help you do anything?”
I’m not sure about Bridgette’s skills in the kitchen but anyone can cut vegetables. Maybe. “How about you slice the tomatoes, squash, and zucchini while I make the pesto sauce and crust?”
“Sounds good. How do you want ’em cut?”
“Thin and crosswise is best for this dish.”
“Got it.”
I open one cabinet, and then another. “What are you looking for?”
“Mixing bowl.”
“Cabinet to your right.”
“Thanks.” I grab the mixing bowl and rinse it. No telling how long it’s been since it was used last. Brou is neat as a pin but still a bachelor.
“I have to ask. Why is this not weird for you? Why are you not uncomfortable with my relationship with Boudreaux?” Most women would probably be highly threatened by this beautiful woman he once called his wife. But I’m not.
No need to pretend I don’t know what she means. “I embrace the unusual.”
“You don’t think I was a cheating bitch whore for falling in love with my husband’s best friend and then marrying him after I divorced Boudreaux?”
I stop what I’m doing so I can look at Bridgette. “No. Brou explained the why behind your marriage. Your friendship remained intact, and from what I can tell, became even stronger. You were his rock when his grandfather died. So how can I feel anything but respect?”
“Boudreaux had a huge hole torn in his heart when we lost Eli. He’s spent years seeking happiness in things and places it didn’t exist. But I see something different inside him when he’s with you.”
“I’m different with him, too.” More grounded.
“You’re it. The ray of sunlight he needs in the darkness he calls life.”
“Light is easy to love. I want to see all his darkness.” It’s there just beneath the surface. I feel it. And I’ll wait for him to show me.
“He will when the time is right. When he does, you’ll know you have all of his heart.”
All of his heart. The thought of it belonging to me makes me giddy and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
“Do you love him?”
I stop chopping the basil and look at Bridgette. “I do. And it feels exciting and completely insane and irrational, even for me. I haven’t known him long enough to have those kinds of feelings. That’s crazy, right? You don’t meet someone and fall in love in six weeks. Especially when you live six hours apart.”
“Crazy love is the best kind.”
“It’s scary as hell.”
“Loving Warren was like that. Scary. Exciting. Insane. Irrational. Wrong in a lot of people’s eyes. But I don’t care, and I haven’t regretted marrying him a single day. It was the right thing for us, and I’m further convinced of it every time I look at our children.”
“Well, Brou has ruled out both of those options.” I don’t get a say.
“We’ve had quite a few heated conversations about that damn vasectomy. He told me you were okay with it.” Okay is a loose term.
“I am for now.” We’re only six weeks into this relationship.
“I hear a but.”
“Brou told me he doesn’t want to remarry or have children.” And he seemed solid about it. That does not work for me, or the plans I have for my life.
“But you do?”
“Very much. I’ve wanted a husband and children for as long as I can remember.” I desperately desire—and need—the happy family I didn’t get in my early childhood. I want a husband and children who love me in return. It’s the life I didn’t have my first ten years but my yearning has nothing to do with Jimmy and Christie’s mistreatment. It was Mom and Dad who taught me how to love unconditionally. I want that to echo in a family of my own.
I have so much to give.
Dammit. I just want to be loved. I deserve that happiness in my life. And at almost thirty-two, I need to find it soon.
“Don’t let Boudreaux fool you for a minute about having children. Nothing would make him happier than to have his own, but he has an enormous fear of something going wrong again.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I think his mind could be changed about marriage and children, but only by the right woman. There’s nothing I’d love to see more.”
Brou comes into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge and we both go silent. “I know I just interrupted something you don’t want me to hear because you both look like a cat with a canary in your mouth.”
“Just girl talk.”
“Maybe I want to get in on some of that.”
“Okay. I was just telling Wren how much I love my children and what a blessing they are in my life and how I don’t know what I’d do without them and they were worth every bit of risk and I’d do it again in a heartbeat and I probably will when Tripp is older.” Damn, Bridgette. Take a breath.
Brou keeps his back to us and stands at the refrigerator with the door open. “What kind of beer do you want, Warren?”
“IPA.”
Brou doesn’t glance our way as he goes back to the living room.
Fuck. I think that’s bad.
“I think I’ll have a beer.” Or twelve.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” No, it wasn’t her place; this is between Brou and me. But, at least it was her spouting off. He can’t be mad at me about that.
I don’t have the heart to be angry with Bridgette. I really think she meant well and everything she said to Brou was for my benefit.
“It’s okay.” Except I’m not sure it is. He didn’t say a word or even turn to look at me. I wasn’t the one running my mouth about having babies.
No more baby talk. It’s caused too much trouble.
“Tell me about the Lucas Broussard you met thirteen years ago.”
Bridgette bursts into laughter. “Oh, God. Good-looking. Funny. Athletic. Star pitcher on the baseball team. All the girls wanted him.”
“Sounds like the complete opposite of the guy I would have dated in high school.” I was into the hipster artist type. I had dreads my senior year. I bet Brou’s jock ass wouldn’t have given me a second glance in high school.
“He thought he was God’s Cajun gift to women.” That’s funny to me. Brou has never acted as though he thinks he’s hot shit. Although, he so is.
“But he wasn’t to you?”
“Oh, Lord, no. He was always like a brother to me. We acted like buffoons together. Always getting into some kind of nonsense.” Bridgette goes for her purse and takes out her wallet. “Look at this.”
It takes a moment for it to register. “Is that you and Brou?”
“Yep.”
The beard totally changes his looks. He’s so skinny in this picture. Nothing like the muscular man he is today. His eyes are the only things even remotely familiar about the guy in this photo. This is not my Brou. He’s Bridgette’s Boudreaux. And they’re two totally different people. “I can’t believe this is him. He looks so young.”
“This was taken about a month before we graduated.” And about a year later, they were married and expecting a baby.
Bridgette takes out her phone and begins giving me a slideshow of Brou for as far back as her pictures go.
I’m cackling over one of Brou, obviously intoxicated, and wearing one of Ava’s bibs when Warren comes into the kitchen to fetch beers. “What did y’all say to Boudreaux? He hasn’t said three words since he was in here.”
“Wren didn’t say anything. It was all me.”
Warren tosses his hands into the air. “What the fuck, Bridg?”
“I’ll fix this. Give me five minutes before you come back.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Wren. Bridgette still thinks she can henpeck Boudreaux. Or mother him. I don’t always know which. He usually lets her, but I could see something was different the second he came back. What did she say?”
“It was about having babies.”
“Shit, she
doesn’t want to let that one go.”
Warren stands with his hands on his hips. “Well, I can’t go back in there now. What can I do to help?”
I’m guessing Warren has shit for skills in the kitchen based on the things I’ve heard Bridgette say, so I choose something he can’t possibly screw up. “You can spread the pesto on the galettes except for one. I’m putting tomato sauce on that one for Ava’s cheese pizza.”
Warren does a decent job with his assigned task. “Now you can top them with the vegetables in thin layers.”
I watch his first attempt to be sure he does this job as well as the first. “Like this?”
“Yes. Very nice.”
The galettes are coming out of the oven when Bridgette comes back. “I’m so sorry. I screwed up bigger than I thought. Five minutes wasn’t even close to being long enough for me to deliver the ass kissing it took to fix what I did.”
“Is he upset with me?”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry, it was all me. He’s cool with you. Very cool.”
