“So good. Gosh, I can’t think of the last time I sat outside and read a book.”
“Duchess, for the life of me, I don’t understand you. Why not?”
“I dunno. I work a lot of weekends, and you know I’ve been driving up here and back, plus I take care of things for my sisters. Just doesn’t leave a lot of time for reading.”
There must be something about her sisters that I don’t know. Like maybe one of them has issues like Chad does, or someone’s impaired in some other way, because she seems to spend a lot of time worrying about them.
“I don’t know how to ask this without being blunt, so I’m just gonna say it. Is there something going on with your sisters, like mental health issues and such?”
Her head whips to the side, and she squints at me under the brim of the hat. “Um, well, let’s see. Hannah is a hard-charging MBA finance perfectionist with a son, so she can be a lot. Hazel is bookish and structured in everything she does. And she’s a worrier. Dylan is a drama queen but super smart. Works in interior design. And Callie is the baby. She’s fun. Has big dreams.”
I nod. “That all sounds pretty normal.”
She shrugs. “Sure. Normal for a bunch of sisters who are always in each other’s business.”
“So what are you taking care of, with respect to all of them? What’s the burden you carry around?”
“Oh. I’m just accustomed to handling things. I handle their finances and talk to Callie’s landlord if something happens at her apartment. I babysit Hannah’s son a couple of days a week. Right now, I’m dealing with the renovations out here?—”
I hold up a hand. “Wait, you’re dealing with all the renovations even though Dylan is an interior designer.”
“Well, yeah. I’m dealing with building. The design stuff happens later.”
“And you deal with the finances even though Hannah has a degree in business.”
“Um, what’s your point?” She juts out her chin.
I can smell the meat cooking, and I don’t want it to burn, so I need to make my point quickly. “My point is that they all may have needed you to run their lives at some point, but could it be that they’re old enough to take things on themselves?”
She puts her hands on her hips, but then her body slumps and she blinks up at me. “I suppose.”
“And is it possible that you’re managing their lives because you like being the one everyone depends on and you don’t want to let go of that?”
She sighs. “Possibly. Probably. Does that make me a meddler?”
“No. It makes you thoughtful and responsible. And probably also exhausted.”
“I am a little bit exhausted.”
A tiny bird flits over and lands on a bird feeder in the garden. It pecks at the seeds and takes off toward a distant tree. I used to sit out here and watch the birds for hours, but that was before I felt laden with my own worries about how to wring the most income out of my land and convince the people in town to share what little water there is. And then there’s Chad, always one drink away from hitting rock bottom, and that bottom seems to drop deeper each time he gets close.
But I don’t dare tell Tessa any of that. I want her to think of me as a strong partner and future father. I don’t want her to have any doubts about my ability to take on more challenges. I’ve done it for this long, adding whichever ones came down the path, and I’ll continue doing it.
“That smells amazing, by the way. And this has been such an incredible evening,” she says.
When her pale eyes land on me, I forget about the rest of my worries. I don’t understand how just looking at her makes me feel happy, but I can’t deny that it does.
The soft skin of her throat flutters as she swallows. Her lips part, and her tongue slips out to moisten them. I lean in another inch, taking in her delicate features. I could close the gap between us so easily. I want to kiss her so badly, but I don’t want to hook up. I want it to mean something.
I wonder if it would mean something to her.
She meets my gaze and doesn’t back away. We’re so close, and I lean closer. Her eyes drift shut in anticipation. I reach my hand to touch her cheek…but her eyes snap open, and she jerks back.
“Something’s burning.”
She’s right. The smoke from the grill has turned black, and I jump up to open the hood. A cloud of smoke billows out, and I shove the tongs at the steaks, flipping them over.
They’re charred but not ruined. More than I can say for the corn, which is black on one side. There are a couple more ears in the kitchen, and they’ll cook quickly. At least the meal isn’t ruined.
