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“Well, yeah, unless you wanna eat dinner naked. I’m not knocking it, mind you, because that can actually be kinda—”
“Good-bye, Delaney.”
With a shake of her head, Mia disconnected and proceeded to follow her sister’s advice of splashing some cold water on her face. After one last pep talk with her reflection—this time, one that included positive self-talk—she stepped back into her closet and traded today’s teacher attire for her favorite pair of jeans and a soft red cashmere sweater. Then she touched up her makeup, applied a subtle splash of perfume, and headed for the main portion of the house.
Was she still anxious? Definitely.
Still terrified about the prospect of getting naked in front of another man? Absolutely.
Going to let her fears and worries spoil the evening?
Not a chance.
Laughter drifted from the kitchen, along with chatter and…chopping? Mia stepped out from the hallway to find grocery bags strewn across the counter and a bottle of red wine waiting beside the stove. At the island stood Alex, looking handsome as always in dark jeans and a sage-green button-down with its sleeves pushed up, demonstrating to Brooklyn the proper way to chop green onions. Mia leaned against the doorframe, content to watch and curious to gauge Brooklyn’s level of interest.
“Keep your fingers like this, curled back and out of the way,” he said, demonstrating the technique. “Now you try.”
“Me?” Brooklyn looked from him to her mother. “You promise not to freak out?”
Mia grinned. “I only freak out when kids play with knives or run with them, not when they’re trying to learn how to cook.” She moved closer to stand across the island from them. “Besides, the faster you learn, the sooner you can do the cooking and I can go back to cleanup duty.”
At Alex’s encouragement, Brooklyn gave it a try. Mia let this go on for several minutes.
“Sweetheart, your father is expecting you.”
She looked up from her growing pile of green onion slivers. “But this is way more fun.”
Mia hated to spoil the moment, but she didn’t want Brooklyn to endure her father’s petty anger tonight, either. “So will your weekend be if you don’t start it off with him being mad.”
Her shoulders sank. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for letting me help, Alex.”
“Anytime.”
Hands were washed, things were collected, hugs were given—surprisingly, even to Alex—and Brooklyn was off. Mia watched her car’s progress from the front window until she couldn’t see it anymore, then she closed all the blinds, locked all the doors—this was Bourbon Falls, after all; one never knew who might turn up unexpected—and returned to settle into a seat at the island.
“All good?” Alex asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Mia said. “It’s just always a little melancholy when your whole world leaves the house for the weekend.”
“I can only imagine.” He sectioned off a small portion of the green onions and put the rest in a sealable container. “Did that happen a lot? You, trying to keep Greg from getting mad about things?”
Mia was surprised by the question. Was it really that obvious? “Delaney and Robyn seemed to think so. I was just trying to keep the peace, you know? Sweep the little stuff under the rug.”
“Until the little bump under the rug builds into a mountain.” He looked up with a grin. “I did the same thing with Caroline. Eventually, it felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time. She admitted later it was the same way for her. We were both trying to be accommodating and avoid confrontation, when all we’d probably needed was a few candid conversations.”
Mia nodded, watching him measure out other ingredients for whatever meal he had planned for them. Is that what would have prevented the shouting match they’d had in college? Some candid conversations?
It didn’t matter now. What was done was done. The smart thing to do would be to move on and learn from their past mistakes.
“You really love to cook, don’t you?”
He looked up from her mixing bowl, a broad smile on his face. “Yep, always have. I used to spend hours in the kitchen with my nana as a kid. After she passed, the major holiday meals gauntlet was passed on to my mother and me.”
“Oh wow. That was definitely not the case for me. My father’s the amazing cook in our family. He’s had a ton of practice, since they take turns cooking at the firehouse. He and Aunt Faye tried sharing their tricks of the trade with me, but after enough failed meals, they let me bow out. I hate cooking. But then, Del teases me that I hate anything I’m not very good at.”
“Is it true?”
She shrugged.
