Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Caroline rolls her eyes. “Thank you, peasant. Now be gone.”
Mia backs away half-bowed with her eyes down like a servant being dismissed.
We both laugh at her little display, then get distracted as we tear into the amazing bread.
“Why do you think we tried so hard to keep it a secret?” Caroline asks after we’ve finished the salads that followed the bread.
“Us, you mean?” I ask.
“Yeah, us.”
“Your brother, for starters,” I say. “When we first met, I didn’t know he would go after my sister behind my back like a snake. I was trying to honor the bro code.”
She snorts. “But you went after me behind his back. Almost immediately.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, but that was different.”
“How, exactly?” She smiles, plucking a tomato from her fork with her teeth.
“Well… you came on to me. Remember? How was I supposed to resist something like that.”
“Um,” Caroline leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure you came onto me.”
“Nope. We’d never really interacted much before that offseason in Frosty Harbor. Jesse kept you hidden away like a well-kept secret. And then Andi basically crash-landed here. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me. It was like you were eye-fucking me while we talked about helping Andi find a job. Honestly, with how obvious you made it, I felt rude not at least sticking back to talk to you afterward.”
She laughs. “Eye fucking you? I was just… well, it wasn’t going that far with my eyes. It was more like mental first-base.”
Mia does her submissive server routine again, dropping off bite-sized sandwiches stacked with interesting-looking ingredients. They’re toasted golden brown and skewered with black toothpicks.
“So, really,” Caroline says after we’ve enjoyed the sandwiches. “You started it.”
“Fine. I started it,” I say. “And I’m not sorry I did.” I meant the words as playful, but something about them seems to hang in the air.
“You’re not?” she asks.
I lick my lips. “No…” I admit.
“What about everything you said during the press conference after the Sophie Gray thing? About kids holding people back.”
I study the crumbs on my plate, searching for the right words. “I was really struggling at the time. With a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
Like the idea that I wanted you so badly it hurt, but just learned you apparently had a kid with another man? “A lot,” I say.
She lowers her eyes. “So you didn’t mean all that?”
“I know this much… Walker is my son. It doesn’t matter what I’ve said or done in the past. I’m his father, and nothing can stop me from being the best father I can possibly be. Nothing else matters.” The words rush out of me and I feel the truth in them so much that goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s a sentiment I’ve felt building ever since Caroline told me the truth about him.
Caroline wipes at her eyes, sniffling.
I laugh a little. “Come on. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“Yeah, well, sorry-not-sorry.” She laughs with another sniff.
I watch her nibble at the sandwich and feel my thoughts turning over every stone between us. As the dinner goes on, we talk more about less weighty things, and Mia brings us increasingly delicious plates, proving why Taste has been such a resounding success, even in a small, middle-of-nowhere place like Frosty Harbor.
I can feel a kind of resolution forming inside me. Something I’m so increasingly sure of I almost say it right then and there–spilling the words like a glass that’s grown too full.
Instead, I smile to myself and hold it in.
This thing I’m feeling will be better if I deliver it carefully. If I wait for the right moment and find the perfect words.
“That was so good,” Caroline says, leaning back and holding her stomach like she’s pregnant again.
I laugh. “I hope you saved room for dessert.”
She gives the chocolate crumbs on the plate in front of her a confused look. “We just… Oh,” she says, meeting my eyes and understanding my meaning.
29
CAROLINE
“You got everything?” I ask, holding Walker up like a puppet and wiggling him as if he’s the one talking.
Jake smirks. “Our son isn’t a puppet.”
Our son. There are little things like those two words that never fail to make things inside me go all warm and fuzzy. If only it didn’t still feel like I was waiting for the floor to drop out… I could really get used to all this.
“But he makes such a cute puppet,” I complain. “And you’re the one who taught me this move. I think it was back at the aquarium in Manhattan.
Jake stuffs some more clothes into his suitcase. He was only here for a week but brought his hockey gear, so it looks like he was packed for months of travel. The fact that he hasn’t tried to leave anything long-term in my room feels like just one sign out of many that he’s trying to keep an emotional arm’s length between us. It’s maddening, but it did feel like something was different last night at dinner. I couldn’t say what, but Jake seemed more at ease. It was like a kind of calm had settled over him.