AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Humming! In my kitchen! Shirtless!
I’m so glad I didn’t hold out for Average Allen, because Sexy Seth is way better. Like, they aren’t even in the same universe, let alone a similar category.
It’s been nearly a month since Braeden and Sam were here and Colin’s dad was taken into custody. In that time, I decided to mail my sister a letter, Colin and his mom have become closer, the kids have taken to calling SethDaddy Seth,and the bruise on Seth’s jaw has paled considerably. I kept my letter brief but gave Jade enough information to know where I currently am, about my kids, and a bird’s eye view of how things are now. That said, my life and her life don’t need to be discussed any other way than over the phone or, preferably, in person. I had Seth read it before I mailed it and then dropped it in the mailbox without thinking about it too much. That was two weeks ago, but whether I hear back from her or not I’ll know I made the effort on my part. It’s up to Jade what she does with that.
I’m not going to dwell on it tonight. Not when the teens, Marshall, and Jess will be coming over in thirty minutes to celebrate being ninety-nine percent done with Marie’s house, and a very attractive man is cooking very attractive food in my very messy kitchen. We’ve settled into somewhat of a routine these past few weeks, and it’s been nice to have some semblance of normalcy. Though Seth’s work schedule is more unpredictable than Alice’s thrillers, it’s okay. When he’s not working or doing something else or spending time with his sister, he’s with Ella and Eli. He and Alice have become fast friends because she’s already started nagging me about marriage. Which has made me start thinking about that—the idea of marriage.
I know Seth isn’t Pete, but now that I’m with someone I care aboutso much, it’s brought to the surface fears I didn’t realize I had in the wake of my divorce. What if I’m the reason my marriage failed? What if I’m not strong enough to be a police officer’s wife? What if Seth realizes a couple months into it that he doesn’t want children right away? Because even as involved as he’s become in our everyday lives, it won’t be how a marriage normally starts. Usually, it’s a couple starting their new lives together, living in a honeymoon phase that can’t be interrupted by kids. Yes, typically they’ll probably have children, but atsome point.
Not right away.
Certainly not with kids that are already five and three years old.
So, because I hate miscommunication—everyone has enough drama in their lives; we don’t need it created just for fun, people—I did the very thing that scared me the most.
I talked to Seth about it. We were sitting on my back porch a couple weeks ago after the kids were asleep, simply holding hands and taking in the stars, when I finally worked up the nerve. Sure, we were only approximately four weeks into dating, but Seth is a straight shooter. If this relationship is going to be what I want it to be, I’m going to have to learn how to be open and honest and lay it all out there. We’ve known each other for over three years. I think it’s safe to say he’s not some stranger I fell hard and fast for and will scare off with talk of marriage.
So, I very carefully explained all my fears—at least, I think it was all of them, but he was rubbing his thumb over the inside of my wrist the whole time, so I can’t be sure—and was totally honest. After I was done, Seth didn’t laugh. He didn’t tell me my fears were silly or invalid. He didn’t run the other way. He didn’t look at me like I was crazy for bringing up the topic of marriage.
No, first he leaned over and kissed me so tenderly I almost cried. Then he told me he wouldn’t have led me onto anything at all if he hadn’t been committed to loving meandmy kids. He said I’m one of the strongest people he knows, and he can’t make any promises, but he will do everything in his power to come home safely to us at the end of every shift. He explained how he’s had some of his own emotions lately because he knows his mother will never get to meet the kids or me, and that we’ll just have to work through our fears together.
And then he asked me point-blank if I do want to get married again. He might’ve been looking at me with tenderness and keeping his words soft, but I could see the seriousness in his expression. He knows what it’s like to be hurt by someone you love, but he was never married. I was.
And because I know he’s worth the risk, I said yes.
I have no idea when that day will come. I don’t know when Seth will be ready to propose or get married, but I do know we can talk about everything. And that is something I desperately wanted but never had with Pete. I wanted us to be a family, even in the mundane things like grocery shopping or making meals or cleaning. It was never meant to be with my ex, I’ve learned, but with Seth?
Legitimate date nights are rare with his work and the kids, but that’s okay. I like this little life we’re building, going grocery shopping on Saturday mornings after we clean or having a meal on a weeknight with his sister or hanging out together after the kids are in bed, simply talking or snuggling. He’s become a constant in my life. He’s become the partner I didn’t know I needed, and the dad my kids have longed for.
Oh, and he’s surprisingly good at yoga, even if he did make funny faces throughout the entire thirty-minute YouTube session we did in my living room that made me and the kids laugh too hard to do most of the poses. I won’t complain, because seeing him in black Lululemon shorts, the corded muscles in his tanned back on display as he eased into Warrior 1 with Eli and his chub tummy mirroring him on the mat next to him was honestly the highlight of that whole session.
“If you’re able to stop staring at me long enough, would you please grab the guacamole from the fridge?”
Seth’s question makes my eyes jerk to meet his sparkling ones. I open my mouth to defend myself and say I wasn’t staring at him, but… Well, I was. I mean, it would be kind of unfair to God if I didn’t appreciate the intricate detail that went into Seth’s body, right?
“I get it, though,” he continues as he resumes chopping an onion. His knife makes a steady cadence on my plastic cutting board, slicing with practiced precision. “I would stare at you if the roles were reversed. You know, especially in those yellow leggings you wear for yoga.”
My cheeks flush. He hasn’t stopped talking about the leggings I wore for our first yoga session together, and they’ve officially become my favorite pair of pants. I give him an amused look and open the fridge to get the guac that I’mthisclose to hiding in a closet and devouring all by myself. I watched him make it a little while ago, and my stomach hasn’t stopped growling since (I haven’t decided if it’s because of him or the food, though.) He put fresh avocados, lime, red onions, Roma tomatoes, garlic, fresh cilantro, salt, and pepper in my food processor and my whole kitchen seemed to absorb the yummy aroma. Add to it the sizzling strips of sirloin and the sauteed shrimp plus the salsa he’s working on now, and I don’t think my house has ever smelled so good.
Not even when I burn my favorite coconut candle, and that’s saying something.
“Would it be rude of me to take a bite of this before everyone gets here?” I ask, smiling sweetly and batting my lashes shamelessly as I let a chip hover over the guac. “I should probably taste-test it. To make sure it tastes good and stuff.”
“Not necessary. I already did.” He gives me a smug grin as he pulls the dish towel from his shoulder, his forearm muscles winking at me as he wipes his hands off, then flicks the towel back over his shoulder and gestures to his cutting board. “I need your help with this right now. You’re gonna learn how to make salsa.”
“Sheesh. You’re kinda bossy.” But my feet are already propelling me around the island.
“Since I was able to teach you how to make pancakes successfully, we’ll borrow some pointers from that lesson.” He steps up behind me, so his bare chest is pressed to my back, skin to skin, his arms coming around me to grasp my hands. He’d better be careful, or my kitchen will go up in flames and ruin this meal. We gotta save the guacamole, whatever we do. “First things first, we prep the ingredients.”
How do I hold a knife, again? I can’t seem to remember because a man who’s been in the hot summer sun all day is “teaching” me to cook, and for some reason all I can think of is how good he smells after being outdoors. I do recall that Anne Burrell hates when people have their pointer finger on the top of the blade from watchingWorst Cooks in Americaand wondering if I should audition. I mean, I’m not that bad. Usually. But I’ve always been a bit of a rebel (not really; I shuddered at the idea that I’d have a reason to stay out past curfew in high school) so I plant my finger on the blade confidently.
Seth promptly moves it back to join my other fingers on the handle, saying something unimportant about cutting tomatoes. I feel like pouting. I was daring for all of three seconds before he sided with Burrell! I might ask to get a refund on these cooking lessons.
“And then we put all the ingredients together in the food processor,” Seth says in a low voice that sends goosebumps up my arms. Mind changed. Where can I buy more lessons? “I’m pretty confident in your ability to do that, but if you’re ever going to use your skills under high stakes—”we all know I’m not“—then you need to learn how to cook while distracted.”
His left hand on the counter beside my hip, he uses his other to brush wisps of hair away from the back of my neck, his rough fingertips leaving a trail of tiny sparks across my skin, and then presses a soft kiss just between my neck and shoulder. My hand almost drops the bowl of cilantro I’m tipping into the food processor.
“Oops. We better try that again.” He moves to my other shoulder, and I feel his smile against my neck. I manage to get the onion dumped in. “Good job. Now, we move onto the tomatoes. Careful, if you spill any they’ll stain your pretty white swimsuit top.”
