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“I always thought so, too. But now that Gram’s gone, and you’re on your own—”
“I take care of myself. Aiden hasn’t in a long time.” This was another reason why I didn’t get close to people. They tried to make me see things a different way, but I knew my truth. And I wasn’t one of those people destined for a happy ending.
Fourteen
Heath
I admired Marley for her independence and strength. But I couldn’t help but wonder who took care of her. She didn’t mention friends in California who’d be upset if she stayed here for a few more days. She’d hidden her life from Aiden.
If I wanted her, this wasn’t going to be easy. She’d been hurt. She wouldn’t be amenable to opening up, especially after I walked away the first time.
I needed to be sure she was what I wanted before I pursued anything further. The next few days were a test of sorts to see if we were compatible. We were obviously combustible in the bedroom, but would it translate to real life?
And I couldn’t get past the geographical distance. Her life was in California. She loved the ocean and her home. Could she be happy living on a Christmas tree farm?
I sprinkled shredded cheese over the almost-cooked omelet and folded one half over the other, then pressed it closed with the spatula.
“Are you a good cook?” Marley asked.
“I can cook the basics. We make it a habit to stop by Mom’s for lunch and sometimes dinner, so I’m not on my own much for meals. But I’ve gotten good at making eggs and pancakes for breakfast. Sometimes Addy or Ember stop by.”
She smiled softly. “You’re great with them.”
“I’m happy that another generation of Monroes is living on the farm.”
“You see them running the farm?”
“One of the kids has to love the farm and be willing to stay to continue what we’ve built. I think at least one of them would want to carry on the legacy. It’s in their blood, after all,” I said as I plated the omelet and pushed it across the counter toward her.
Then I grabbed a glass and filled it with iced water. “You can eat.”
I didn’t crack more eggs until she’d cut one piece and eaten it, her eyes falling closed in pleasure. “This is so good. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked me a meal.” She fell silent, and I wondered what she was thinking.
Finally, she said, “It was probably Gram. She was always making me egg sandwiches, as if they could heal any wound.”
I smiled at the memory of her moving around the kitchen and telling me to sit at the table. “I remember her doing that. Every time I stopped by to visit, she’d offer me one.”
Our gaze met. “That was her go-to when I was sick, too.”
I cracked three eggs, added a drop of milk, and whipped it with a fork before pouring the mixture into the pan. “I don’t know if eggs heal wounds, but I think cooking is a form of caring for someone. I’ve watched my mom do that for years.”
Marley stilled. “Your mom shows you love through food. She cooks big meals and always makes sure she has food for when you stop by.”
“She loves us in other ways, too. She checks in with us to make sure we’re doing okay. When Knox messed things up with Sarah, we all talked to him. He admitted he felt guilty over not being there when Dad died and then missing the call when Mom was in the hospital.”
“It must have been hard when your dad passed. He was the heart of this place.”
“I think my mom was the heart, and my dad was the one who kept it beating. When he died, it was up to all of us to step into his role. To keep this place running smoothly and ensure Mom took care of herself. I think we’ve done a good job of it.”
“I think so, too. The farm and your family are thriving.”
“I never thought my brothers would settle down. We always joked we’d live here alone in our cabins forever,” I said as I checked the omelet.
“You’re so lucky.”
“I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad,” I said over my shoulder.
“You don’t have to walk on tiptoes around me. I’m not fragile.”
