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“He’s a good man.”
Andrew turned and looked at me. “Yeah. The best.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like. To be so loved.” I instantly wanted to take back the words. They were the truth but had no place here.
“I—” He looked at a loss. Sympathy was on his face, but more than that, he appeared to want to take that hurt away from me. To give me what I’d never had. “I’d do anything to change that for you.”
And I believed he meant that.
“It’s just how it is. But I’m finding my way now.”
“It’s been the four of us for so long.” He scooped something onto a plate. “I give him a hard time, but I honestly don’t know who I’d be without him.”
“Weird how the people we know shape our lives. Mrs. Norris took me in when I was thirteen. Without her, I’d never have had a home. I only had her for seven years, but it changed everything for me.”
The woman who was my foster mother found me at a pivotal time in my life. Being a ward of the state in an orphanage was . . . difficult. I’d reached the point where I believed I’d never have a home.
But she’d found me.
Though I’d only had her for a short period in my life, I was grateful. I missed her every single day.
“Is she who taught you how to cook?”
I smiled, thinking back to our tiny kitchen. “Yes. Most of the recipes I make are hers.”
“Well, I’d like to thank her.”
“I wish you could.”
“Where does she live?” he asked.
“Oakwood Memorial Gardens.”
He spun, the serving spoon he’d been holding clattering to the counter. “I’m sorry. That’s not enough, but I am.” Andrew crossed the space between us, and I met him halfway.
He engulfed me in his arms. I inhaled deeply as I buried my head against his chest. “You smell like home,” I mumbled. If he heard me, he said nothing, only tightening his arms around me.
He rested his cheek on top of my head and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm. “We can go see her sometime if you like.”
I hadn’t been in years, not because I didn’t want to go, but because I couldn’t. Ella needed to meet the woman who had shaped me too.
I nodded against his chest, and Andrew held me. I never thought I’d reach this point again. Never believed that I’d be this close to a man without cowering in fear.
“Thank you,” I whispered into his shirt.
He kissed the top of my head and guided me back to the barstool. “Thank you for trusting me. I don’t know you well, but I feel as though your trust is a gift not quickly bestowed.” He gave me another kiss on my forehead. I wasn’t sure how to answer him, even though he was spot-on. Trust . . . was difficult. “Hope you like steak Diane.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve never had it.”
“The old man loves it. We had it every week growing up.”
I pointed at the plate he placed in front of me. “Did you make these mashed potatoes?”
He smirked. “Oh, yeah. They’re the best you’ll ever have.”
I lifted a brow. “Pretty confident, aren’t you?”
“Taste them for yourself.” He propped a hip against the island and waited.
