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“Wow, that’s a lot of changes. But I’m proud of you, Wyatt.” I smile at him.
His cheeks redden a little as he smiles back. “Thanks.”
“So, you’re happy?”
He turns to face me, wiping his hand on a washcloth before sticking it in his back pocket. He uses silver tongs to transfer the bacon from the pan to a plate.
“Yeah, I’m happy,” he says softly.
“Good.” I smile. “And the promise you made me? How’s that working out?”
He turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes my heart stop.
“Working on it,” he says.
Then the man has the audacity to turn around and go back to making my sandwich.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wyatt
“Thisisquitepossiblythe best sandwich I’ve ever had,” Lucy groans.
I love having her here. I love seeing her sitting at my kitchen table, eating a sandwich I made her. I love the simple domesticity of the situation. Mostly, I love that I’m not freaking out. Not even a little bit. Therapy is really paying off.
“Yeah?” I grin.
“Yeah. It’s delicious.”
“Good. So, you told me about your book, which I am very excited to read by the way, but what else? What else have I missed in three months? Give me all the details.”
“My life hasn’t been nearly as eventful as yours, Wyatt. I work, I go home and write, and I go to bed. Mom and I are on much better terms, and Allie and I try to plan one night out every week, or two weeks if we’re busy. That’s really it.”
“Okay, what about the beach then? How did that go?”
She takes the last bite of her sandwich and leans back in the chair.
“It was nice. Really nice, actually. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until I was there. The repairs are pretty much done, thankfully, and I think I’m going to go back in December.”
"For the one year anniversary?”
She nods and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Yeah. I asked Amanda, the agent, to leave the whole week free.”
“Are you going with your mom?”
She shrugs. “I doubt it, but maybe.”
“So you’ll be down there for a week alone? If she doesn’t go?”
“I guess so. We’ll see, I may not stay a whole week. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Right. Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”
I stand and reach for her plate, but she takes it and walks around me to the sink.
“You cook, I clean,” she says.
“You’re my guest, besides I can just put them in the dishwasher.”
