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She smiled and carefully covered the shaped loaf with a dish towel. “None taken. I happen to agree with you.”
“That so?”
Forcing herself to give a casual shrug, she set the loaf inside the cold oven to rise a second time. “You’re not married to Libby, but what you have with her is deeper and more real than what your brother and I have. Whatever a piece of paper might say.”
“Does that bother you?”
When she looked up, he was watching her carefully, and she realized she might be skirting dangerous ground with this conversation. Brogan and Aidan might be on the outs right now, but they were brothers, and from what she could tell so far, the Callahans put family above everything else.
“It’s just…different,” she decided. A vague truth.
Brogan’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “He’s not mistreating you, is he? Hitting or yelling at you?”
Unexpected temper flared at his question, and her tone was harsher than she meant it to be. “Of course he isn’t hitting me.” Brogan raised a brow but said nothing. “Whatever you or I think of your bother,” she continued, calmer this time, “we both know he wouldn’t do that.”
Aidan would have to pay attention to her first. In the days since his confessions against her skin, he either ran hot or cold. In the confines of their bedroom, Aidan was warm, attentive, and passionate, although he’d been careful not to talk nearly as much as he had that night. Sometimes she’d be able to tease conversations out of him during the day, but after a few minutes, he’d clam up and suddenly have something else to do.
It seemed like every time they were finding their footing, he would sharply push her away again, leaving her dazed and off balance. It was as if he realized he was getting too close, opening up too much, so he’d move out of reach again. It was excruciating.
She looked up at the buzz from Brogan’s phone in time to see him scanning the screen. She knew that look. Something was going down today. That must be why Aidan had rushed off this morning. Brogan pointed down at the cookies in silent question, and when she nodded, he palmed two and took off toward the stairs. She was going to have to start doubling her recipe.
Alone again, she began tidying up the kitchen. Loading bowls and utensils into the dishwasher and washing what was too big to fit. She grunted when she lifted the heavy container of flour onto the high shelf in the pantry and reminded herself that her dream kitchen was going to have deep drawers with all her baking ingredients inside so she never had to lug another huge container of flour again. Outside of the bakery, anyway.
When the second rise was done, she made three deep slashes across the top of the loaf, slid the pan into the oven, and set the timer. She looked up to see Libby coming down the hallway. Her face was pinched with worry, and Viv’s stomach tightened.
“Is everything okay? Brogan was looking for you.”
“It smells good in here.” Libby eyed the cookies but didn’t take one. “Bread?”
“Yeah, I thought some Italian bread to go with the lasagna.” Viv nodded toward the cake she’d set under a glass dome. “And red velvet cake for dessert.”
“You’ve been busy.” Libby blew out a breath as if trying to steady herself.
“Lib. What’s wrong?”
The next breath was shaky, and when she turned toward Viv, Libby had tears in her eyes.
“I went to go see my sister today. It was, in short, a disaster.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
Libby’s quick burst of laughter was humorless. “I’ve been trying to give Teresa some space because that’s all she seems to want from me. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with me when we first found her.”
Libby ran a hand over her ponytail. “She didn’t want to live here, and I understood that. Not feeling safe with all the men in the house. I know none of them would ever—”
“I get it,” Viv interrupted. “We know that, but with what she went through, I can see why she wouldn’t want to stay here.”
“Yeah. So we moved her in with a roommate we thought would help her adjust. Mack.”
“Mack is one of DiMarco’s…” Viv trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.
“Victims,” Libby supplied with a nod. “Yes. The only one who elected to stay and work for the syndicate. She’s really great and seems surprisingly level-headed, considering everything she went through. I guess I hoped Teresa would bounce back the same way.”
“But she isn’t.” Viv shifted to lean back against the counter. “That isn’t your fault, you know. She has to heal in her own time, on her own terms.”
“That’s what Brogan keeps telling me, but I feel so helpless. When DiMarco had her, all I could think about was getting her out and making him pay. And now that she’s free and he’s dead, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”
Libby swiped at the tears escaping down her cheek. “She won’t even speak to me. Today she just stared at a spot on the wall over my shoulder. Every time I talked, she flinched.” Libby’s voice hitched. “What if I can’t bring her back, Viv? What if because of what DiMarco did to her, she’s stuck inside this prison in her own mind?”
