I stop in front of them. “I was in a cooking mood, so I made pizza lasagna, homemade garlic bread, and parmesan and garlic corn on the cob. Of course I made too much, so I packed some for you guys to take with you.”
To keep the peace, I don’t mention what Cameron told me. This way makes it seem as if I just happened to send food.
“You cooked for me?” Andrew asks as he takes the tote from me.
“Um, sure. I cooked.” Not necessarily for him, but he can eat it. “Also, there are some oatmeal raisin cookies in the bag. I’m trying a new recipe, and I had some left over.”
I’m once again reminded of the weird place Mitch and I are in. Since we started the process of leasing the building for my bakery, I’ve been tweaking some of my recipes. In a few weeks, Mitch and I are supposed to be meeting up with Jim, the owner of the building, to sign the paperwork. I’m not even sure if he’s still interested now.
When my thoughts clear, I blink twice as I realize at some point while I was thinking about Mitch, Andrew has grabbed my hand. I look down at our joined hands.
“You made me my favorite cookies?”
Gently, I pull my hand from his. “I was fixing the recipe, and I know you like them, so I sent you what was left over.”
He nods. “Thanks, babe. I appreciate it.”
Babe? I look at AJ, who looks just as baffled as I do.
“Alright, I’m ready to go.” Cameron comes barreling into the living room with his over-stuffed bag that I’m sure has more toys and games than actual clothes.
But I don’t care; I’m just glad for the distraction. Turning to my youngest son, I place my hands on his shoulders.
“Be on your best behavior and don’t stay up all night playing video games.” I turn to my oldest son, too. “You either.”
“I won’t.” Cameron wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me. Already his head comes up to my shoulder. By next year he will tower over me like AJ.
I hug AJ, and then both boys walk out of the house. Andrew stares at me for a moment before turning to leave too. I followed them out, stopping at the bottom of my steps. Just as we make it outside, the familiar smoke-gray pickup pulls into the driveway next door.
My gaze stays on that truck until it parks, even when the driver's door opens and those jean clad legs appear. I stare until those beautiful blue eyes land on me. For a moment, we stare at each other. The world fades. I watch and wait for a sign, for something. A smile, a smirk, hell, I’ll take a grimace. I just need something that will explain to me why he’s been so distant.
“Are you okay?”
I turn away from Mitch. Andrew is standing in front of me. He looks from me to Mitch, who is pulling something out the back of his truck. He then turns back to me.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I answer, folding my arms over my chest. I kick the toe of my shoe into the paved walkway.
Andrew eyes me warily before grinning.
“I’ll see you Sunday afternoon.” He spins around and walks off. I notice that not once does he speak to Mitch, even though he noticed him.
When Andrew gets to the driver’s side door of his car, he opens it but stops and looks back up at me.
“Thanks again for the cookies, babe,” he shouts.
My chest tightens and my face heats up .
“I was just fixing the recipe,” I shouted back, but Andrew didn’t hear me because he’s already in the car pulling out of the driveway.
I turn to a red face Mitch.
“I was fixing the recipe.” To ensure everyone understands, I repeat that I genuinely did not make that man cookies.
He doesn’t speak; in fact, he looks as if he wants to rip my head off. I quickly turn and rush into the house, feeling completely embarrassed. As soon as I get into the safety of my home, I stop and press a hand to my racing heart. Why does it feel like I just got caught cheating? I didn’t even do anything wrong. If we’re being honest, with the way he’s been acting lately, I’m free to do what I want.
You know what? He doesn’t get to make me feel like I’m wrong. In fact, he owes me an explanation. Spinning around, I march to my front door. The moment I swing it open, I find Mitch standing there with his fist up as if he were about to knock.
Even though I’m mad at him, my belly does that flip thing it likes to do when he’s near. And my pussy jumps like she’s excited. I imagine she is. We haven’t had sex since the poker night.
