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“That must have been rough on you,” he said, trying not to sound as appalled as he felt.
“It might have been better if I’d been more like Terri and Jordan. They got angry and defiant. Instead I was scared all the time. And it seems as if I attract guys who continue to make me feel that way.”
Barton shook his head. “The wrong guys look for someone too sweet and kind to see what creeps they are. Don’t blame yourself for their inadequacies.”
A smile flashed like sunshine on her face. Then she sobered again. “But do you understand? I mean, that I really need to stand up for myself?”
He did understand and respected the effort she was making to reclaim authority over her life. “Yes, but it won’t be easy for me,” he admitted. “My instincts are to help and protect the people I care about.”
She blinked. “I… I care about you, too, but that doesn’t change what I need to do for myself.”
Barton took her hand. “I don’t know where we’re headed,” he said in a low voice. He could feel her trembling.
“Do you want to head somewhere?”
“I think it would be nice, though I haven’t been sure either one of us are ready.”
“It hasn’t been that long since I broke up with Ron, so it seems too soon. Only the thing is, I… I really like you.” Her chin firmed. “But that doesn’t change anything about me needing to be able to stand on my own two feet.” She frowned. “And no matter where we end up, shouldn’t there be a balance between caring and independence?”
Balance.
Not going overboard.
Keeping a perspective.
Great qualities if someone could manage them.
“I wonder if balance is something we may have to help each other with, or at least you might need to nudge me,” Barton admitted. “It could even rouse a few arguments. But that’s okay, isn’t it?” he rushed to ask when he saw alarm in her eyes. “I know disagreements must seem totally negative to you, but I don’t want us to be afraid to say what we think. Isn’t it more about how two people disagree?”
Chelsea’s face turned thoughtful. “That’s a good point. It isn’t realistic to think people will agree about everything. I’ve been telling myself not to be a doormat, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to be one, either.”
“Right.”
Her smile blossomed again. “You know, I’ve got the ingredients in the fridge to make spaghetti. Shall I cook dinner?”
“Let’s make it together,” he suggested.
“That sounds great.”
* * *
JORDAN DROVE TO Nicole’s house on Thursday afternoon. It would be the first time they’d seen each other since he’d gone over to help with her yard the previous weekend.
Not the best memory.
Upon his arrival he’d discovered she wasn’t plucking a few errant weeds from her flowerbeds or planting flowers—she was prepping soil for a vegetable garden on the back end of her double lot. She’d even shown him a hand-drawn map of where she was going to plant more fruit trees—her favorite varieties of apple, plum, apricot and cherry.
So he’d blown it yet again by retreating to his old prejudices about the things that tied someone down. A landscaped yard that could be maintained by a gardening service was one thing, but a giant vegetable patch needing personal attention was an entirely different prospect.
Since then he’d been thinking over what Nicole had said about being able to pick your own cherry tomatoes for a salad or gather fresh basil for a batch of pesto. She’d even pointed out that gardening was similar to writing—you started with a seed of an idea and encouraged it to grow.
Yet ultimately, the real problem was the way she scared the hell out of him.
On one side of the equation, Jordan had everything he’d ever wanted. Nicole was on the other side…a side that was starting to make his single, carefree life look empty. But she’d clearly stated that she didn’t expect to get married, and even if she did, why would she consider him? Jordan had spent so many years shunning commitment that he’d never wondered whether he would, in fact, be a desirable husband.
