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I wondered how my two-bedroom Ranch-style home would look to him. Would he see the hours of love and excitement that had been put into every piece of furniture? Into every color pallet and picture on the wall? Or would he just see the home of a middle-aged, single woman?
Ready to open myself up and let him get a glimpse into how I became the woman I was today, I held out my hand and guided him inside.
Chapter Seven ~ Brendan
I looked around the living room, taking everything in as if I were starved to learn as much about this woman as I possibly could.
Black-and-white pictures adorned the walls, some family photos, and some pictures of Ireland’s beautiful landscape. There were also quotes about the beach, as well as nautical-themed decorations. The furniture and accent pieces were in teals, sea-foam greens, and white.
The vibe was easy, comfortable, and inviting. I liked it immediately, and was excited to see this side of Bronagh. I followed her into the kitchen and grinned. With every gadget known to man, a double oven, island with a gas stovetop, and a refrigerator to rival most restaurants’, it was definitely a chef’s showplace.
“I could live here,” I said honestly as I walked the room, touching everything with awe.
Bronagh grinned at my declaration and sighed, “Right? It’s perfect. I knew exactly what I wanted, and drove the contractor crazy, but I love it.”
We walked through the rest of the house, which included a bathroom, an office, and her bedroom, then wandered back in to the kitchen.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starved,” I replied, laughing when my stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. I was always hungry after a show, probably because I didn’t eat much prior.
She opened the fridge, pushed items aside as she did a quick inventory of what she had on hand, then turned to me and suggested, “Carbonera?”
“That sounds perfect. I actually spent a few weeks in a small restaurant in Italy. The chef was very generous and showed me how to make a perfect dish.”
Bronagh opened her hands, welcoming me to take the lead on the meal prep. Unable to resist the urge, I dropped my head and kissed her lightly, thrilled at the prospect of cooking with her … for her.
We got out the ingredients and I watched as she pulled out the tools that we’d need, memorizing where everything was kept. I was cocky enough to bank on the fact that I’d be cooking in this kitchen again.
“So, when did you go to Italy?”
I pulled the bacon out of the package and started chopping with Bronagh’s butcher knife.
“After Brock and Victoria got married, the house I grew up in suddenly felt a lot smaller. I knew I needed to give them their space, they were newlyweds after all, so I figured it was time for me to get a place of my own. I started looking at apartments, then realized I’d never really been on my own. I’d never done anything. So I busted into the money I’d been saving while living with Brock, and decided to finally discover the world. I took a break from culinary school and went to Europe, traveled for about a year and a half. I worked odd jobs in restaurants, learning from some of the best chefs in the world, and played gigs in pubs and bars in the evenings.”
“That sounds amazing,” she said as she fed dough into her pasta machine. “I lived in Europe for a few years, Paris mostly, and I really miss it sometimes. I can’t believe you took off by yourself, with no plan, and just lived … That’s so brave.”
I shook my head with a grin.
“I wouldn’t say brave, but it was amazing. I missed my brothers, and when I found out Victoria was pregnant, I knew it was time to come home. But, I wouldn’t trade my time there for anything. I could never learn what I did over there in a classroom … no offense.”
“None taken,” she replied with a sweet laugh. “I get it. There’s nothing like working in a kitchen with someone who lives and breathes the food they prepare.”
“Yes, exactly!”
“So, what countries did you visit?”
I started the sauce, not immediately answering her question. I was surprised at how nostalgic I felt talking about that time in my life.
“Ahh, in addition to Venice, I traveled to Rome and Florence. I also worked in Alicante, Glasgow, London, Bruges, Amsterdam, and, of course, Paris.”
“Mmmm,” was Bronagh’s only response, and when I turned and saw the dreamy look on her face, I knew she was thinking about her own time in Europe.
“The history and the architecture in each city is amazing, and the food…”
She lifted her face and nodded. No words were necessary.
We finished preparing the meal, both lost in memories, then moved to the stools on the other side of the island and sat down to enjoy our hard work.
