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What a pile of shit.
All of my own making.
And the Dumbass Award goes to…
I just needed to tell her, so we could get on the path to fixing things. But right now, I was pretty sure if I did, I wouldn’t be sleeping on this couch anymore. I’d be in that roller skate of a car, because I sure as hell wasn’t sleeping farther away from her than that while I was here in town. The couch was bad enough.
And fuck me, I didn’t want “to fix” things. Iwantedto stay married to Bristol. To reallybemarried to her in all ways, real ways—living together, building our dream home, making babies, traveling, working out problems, doing everything married couples did. Including growing old at her side. Iwantedher. I wanted her enough to risk my racing future and the retribution of my uncle.
Frustrated, I shoved to my feet. Startled, Bristol jerked her gaze to me. She didn’t say anything. In fact, she hadn’t said much since our kiss on the boardwalk and the subsequent fleeing back here to escape photog scrutiny.
“I’m going to make us dinner,” I explained.
She set her laptop on the coffee table. “I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to. Just work on your project. Or…” I tipped my head toward the dining table. I definitely wouldn’t turn down her company. “You could come in there and tell me about it while I cook?”
I had zero interest in history—even the history of the town where I’d grown up, but listening to Bristol talk about anything would captivate me.
She smirked, proving how well she knew me. “You’ve always hated history. What did you always say?The past is the past, and it should stay there, buried under a bunch of dirt.”
“Maybe, I don’t feel that way as much anymore. I’ve begun to think you can learn a lot from the past, especially when it comes to not repeating mistakes.” I shrugged again. “How about chicken parm?”
“You know how to make chicken parmesan now? Keep it up, and I’m going to become a barnacle clinging to your backside.”
I chuckled, holding out a hand. “One could only hope. C’mon and talk to me.”
After tugging her into the kitchen with me, I took out the wine I’d chilled and poured us each a glass. I handed one to her before I set about pulling out the ingredients for our dinner.
“Where did this all come from?” she asked, sipping her wine. She pulled the glass from her lips, looked at it then lifted it slightly toward me. “And this. It’s different from last night, and I know I didn’t have wine as good as either we’ve had.”
“I went shopping while you were at work yesterday. I’m glad you’re okay with this meal since I already prepped it.”
“When have I ever not wanted chicken parmesan? Which, of course, you know. But geez… Who are you and what happened to the real Axel Pendleton.”
“He learned to cook. A lot of stuff. It’s kind of a hobby now.” I had time on my hands when I wasn’t working—which truly, I worked most of the time due to simulator practices, actual runs on the track, meetings, conditioning and studying stats. Cooking had been a way for me to connect with home and decompress. Plus, I needed to eat, right?
“I’m just having a hard time connecting this Axel to ‘Slim Jim beef sticks are a meal’ Axel,” she said as she settled into one of the kitchen chairs and took another sip of her wine. The sun beaming through the side window haloed her, reminding me she was my angel. God, I needed to reclaim her and prove she was mine.
“So is your manager going to show up and interrupt dinner again?” she asked, smiling behind her glass.
“She’s notmymanager.”
“Babysitter?”
“She’s just an assistant.” An assistant who’d stepped out of line and thought she could tell me what to do all the time—but I didn’t add that. From Bristol’s snarky tone, it was clear she wasn’t a fan of Marta already. I didn’t need to fan those flames when my assistant would soon have an ex before her title.
“You know what I mean.”
I didn’t, really. Was she jealous of Marta? Ridiculous. Marta didn’t hold a candle to my Bristol.
“She went to Grand Rapids until the fundraiser—hopefully longer, actually. I don’t need her here, and I’m still kinda annoyed she showed up. Anyway, she said it’s too boring in thispodunktown.”
“She was here for what? Five minutes?” Bristol scoffed, offended by that assessment. Hell,Iwas offended, since I loved this place, too. . But I wouldn’t complain if it kept Marta at bay—and far away.
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to convince her otherwise? Show her all the high points of Cherish Cove?”
“Um… No. But really. If you don’t need her here, why did she come? Doesn’t she take orders from you?”
