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She turned to him, assuming he would have gone to work at his board by now. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t moved and simply stared at her, his brows lifted and drawn together. Like he knew.
She put her knife down again, giving him her full attention. “What?”
His cheeks lifted a little with a small smile. “You look like you belong here.”
She let loose with a tiny chuckle. “Are you saying a woman’s place is in the kitchen? Because I don’t think that’s—”
“No” He reached out, his hand slipping to the nape of her neck. “Just that you look like you belong here... with me.”
For someone who hadn’t belonged anywhere for as long as she could remember, as far back as her mother’s death all those years ago, those were the precise words she’d needed to hear.
And more than hear them, she felt them, and Blaine provided the blessed normality she’d dreamed of for so long. So, her heart snagged on the next sad and inalienable truth. Whatever love she felt for him would never be complete until she filled the gap between what he knew of her and all she refused to say.
She buried herself against him, allowing his strong arms to enfold her, support her. She would savor this. Let them have a final moment of being nothing more than two people making dinner and falling in love, then she would tell him.
She would tell him everything.
Blaine’s stomach soured at her contradictory behavior. One second, she seemed warmed by his compliment. The next, she retreated, the whole chain reaction a cruel form of silent torture.
A spare chopping board lay on the counter beside him, but he abandoned his task for a moment and opted for a different tack, something that might at least loosen them both up a little.
“Want some wine?” He turned for the fridge, the door already open in his hand.
She’d already returned to her chopping at the counter but called over her shoulder. “Yes, please.”
He collected two glasses on his way to sidling up to her. “You sure about that?”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Yes. Why?”
He dipped his chin, giving her what he hoped would be a mischievous grin. “You’re certain now?”
“Blaine, what are you getting at?”
He started pouring, taking his time with putting her out of her misery, enjoying the new levity from his little game and his ability to turn things around. “Just that Sarah told me how little you had before you went all wild and wobbly at Maynard’s—”
“Hey!” She dropped her mouth open in mock surprise, then gave his forearm a light tap with the back of her hand. “One bad incident does not count.”
He slid a glass of wine across the counter to her. “Easy with this one.”
“Fine, I’m a cheap drunk, okay?” She lifted the glass to her lips but failed to get in her first slip before bursting into laughter and pointing at him. “You’re not allowed to look at me now. Turn away.”
He did no such thing, though she tried to get to her wine again, only for the laughter to restart.
“Seriously, Blaine. If you keep side-eyeing me while I drink, I’m going to keep laughing, which will probably result in me choking on a mouthful of wine. Turn around, just let me get started on this so I can get back to cooking.”
A light laugh broke from him, and he did as he was asked. Not so much because he believed turning around would make much difference, but because he loved these small moments with her and enjoyed playing along.
He spoke over his shoulder. “So, still feeling brave about going to the soiree with me tomorrow? The local busybodies will love the new fodder.”
Maybe it was the silence or the drum of his heart as he kept his back to her. The farther corners of his mind toyed with the idea that fronting up with him tomorrow would leave her daunted.
“You mean because everyone will expect to see you there with Sarah?”
“No, I didn’t mean that at all.” He spun around, facing her. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, though maybe it should have. “I thought, what with your reaction to Rochelle turning up, that you might not be ready for the attention. You’ve been through so much already. I don’t want you to feel like a sacrifice to the gossips too.”
She lowered her glass to the counter and sank back on her heels as if what she really needed to do was sit down. If he had to decide between taking her with him and going alone, he would choose to go alone in an instant. Protecting her and her well-being stood way above any need to test the waters of this relationship.
“I have been acting weird, haven’t I?” She dipped her chin but flicked her attention to him. “It’s not fair on you.”
