Holden’s face was still for a moment as he took in her words. A nervous feeling took over Gigi as she waited for some kind of reaction from him. Would he understand it? Or would he just look at her like so many others and think “poor little rich girl.” Gigi didn’t think she could stand it if he did think that. He was the first person in a long time that she felt could maybe see her for, well, her. But the longer that blank expression sat on his face, the more she thought maybe she was wrong. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d been wrong about a man. It had taken her years to see her mistake with Bradley though.
“I get it,” he finally said. Gigi let out a sigh of relief, hoping she wasn’t too obvious about how much she’d been awaiting his answer. “Families don’t always understand the choices you make, even if you know it’s for your own good.”
“You say that like you have experience in the subject,” Gigi said, trying to turn the conversation off of her. She still knew very little about Holden, and all this sharing about her situation made her want to start asking questions of her own.
“I have some. My family doesn’t fully understand why I left the game.”
“The game?”
“Soccer, football, whatever you want to call it. I played for Chelsea over in the UK for a while.”
“You played professional soccer?” she said, trying to hide the shock in her voice. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him closer, trying to figure out if she recognized him. Bradley had watched a lot of soccer a number of years ago when he was trying to win over some big deal British client. Liverpool had been the team of choice. In fact, it was their loss in the championship that had led to….
“I did,” he answered. His simple words pulled her back into the moment, and away from memories she had no business revisiting.
“And you just up and quit?”
“Something like that.”
“But why?” She knew she was prying, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know everything about this man sitting across from her.
“It just didn’t seem right to keep playing after….” he trailed off.
“After…”
“After losing my wife.”
Holden
Well, that was something Holden hadn’t expected to reveal this afternoon. Hell, it wasn’t something he’d ever expected to tell Gigi. But there was something about her and the vulnerability she was showing him that made him want to show her she wasn’t alone. That there was someone else who understood her.
“You lost your wife? You’re a widower?” she asked, her face paling slightly.
“Yeah,” he managed to get out. Now that it was out there it just hung like a heavy cloud, and he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe this was not the way he should have gone about this. It’s not like he needed this to be something they had in common, something for them to bond over. He hadn’t talked about Hannah to anyone in years. Not since that last therapist he’d seen. The one who had suggested he find a hobby—to cultivate a new passion. Except there was no passion without Hannah.
“Can I ask what happened?” Gigi reached across the table, taking his hand as if they were old friends. The warmth of her touch was welcoming and spread throughout his entire body, catching him off guard. It’d been so long since another person’s touch had made him feel anything, and he had no idea what to do with it.
“Home invasion gone wrong. Police believe it was a bunch of druggies looking for cash, or something easy enough to convert into cash, and didn’t realize anyone was home,” he told her. Closing his eyes, he let the usual feeling of guilt wash over him as he thought about how she shouldn’t have been home alone that night. That if he’d been there with her, how everything would be different now. He felt a light squeeze on his hand and realized that Gigi was still holding it. Looking down at the connection, he noticed just how dainty her hand was. It fit so perfectly into his, and he liked the idea of it staying right there.
“I’m so sorry, Holden,” Gigi said, tears filling her eyes. Gone was the skittish look she’d had earlier when talking about her own family. But what replaced it surprised him more than a little. It wasn’t the same look of pity that most people gave him. It was one of simple sadness that only someone else who mourned a partner could understand.
“What was her name?” Gigi asked, just above a whisper after a long moment of silence.
“Hannah,” he whispered in return. Usually just the mention of her name brought along with it an unescapable pain. However, in this moment, with Gigi’s hand in his, the pain was somehow less. Like she had some magical powers absorbing it. Before he knew what he was doing, the words started tumbling out of his mouth. “First time I saw her was across the quad our sophomore year. I was kicking around a ball with some teammates, and she was leaning up against a tree drawing. I went up to her, made a bad joke about ‘drawing me like one of your French girls’ and when she actually laughed, I asked if I could buy her coffee. We got married a couple of weeks after graduation and moved over to London a couple of years later. Life was pretty good.”
“Until it wasn’t?”
“Until it wasn’t,” he responded. He could feel the weight of it all starting to close in on him. Pressing his fingertips over his heart, he tried to rub away some of the ache he felt. He could still see the nursery they had set up in the London flat. Hannah had promised not to go too overboard with the pink when they had found out they were having a girl. What he hadn’t accounted for was Hannah’s love of children’s literature and for her nesting to take the form of a massive mural on the wall opposite the window. She’d spent weeks debating which theme to go with, before finally settling on Winnie the Pooh.
Pushing up from the table, it only took him a few strides before reaching the butcher block. He wanted to slam his fist down on the hard wood, making him feel something other than the pain ripping through his chest at the loss of his girls. But he didn’t want to scare Gigi. Poor, sweet Gigi who had no idea who she was really dealing with. The thought flitted through his head, wondering if she would trust him so much to help her if she knew just how much he had failed Hannah.
“Holden, you don’t have to talk about it if it hurts too much,” Gigi told him, her sweet southern accent washing over him, comforting him in a way.
“No, it’s fine,” he gritted out. “You opened up to me. It’s only fair.”
A look flashed over her face, making him think for a moment that there was something she still wasn’t telling him. But it was gone before he could comment, replaced with a sympathetic smile. “This isn’t a competition, Holden.”
Ignoring her words, he turned around to face her, taking in her beautiful features. There was a part of him that wanted to rush over and kiss her for being so understanding, and another part of him that wanted to scream at her. Kissing Gigi was the last thing he needed to be doing while thinking about Hannah.
“Hannah was seven and a half months pregnant.” The sound of her gasp filled his ears, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He needed to get this out. “After they were killed, I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t play the game anymore. My heart just wasn’t in it. So I came back here.”
“To your family?”
“Oh no,” he said, a sad chuckle escaping. “Don’t get me wrong. My family was nothing but supportive. Maybe a little too much so. Uncle Field had lost Aunt Viv a few years prior, so of course he was the expert on dealing with loss and moving on. None of them were willing to just let me grieve in my own way.”
“Which was?”
“Holing up in this old house and hiding from the world,” he shrugged in response as he rejoined her at the table, not knowing what else to tell her. It was the truth. He wanted nothing to do with the outside world anymore, and up until she arrived in town a couple of weeks ago, he’d had no interest in ever talking to anyone either. What she had done to change that, he still wasn’t sure. This was really not where he had seen the afternoon going. This was supposed to be about picking out recipes to help he
r. Not about them learning each other's deepest secrets. He wasn’t supposed to be sitting here wondering what else this beauty had up her sleeve and why on earth she made him feel so alive.
“Don’t shrug it off,” she said, squeezing his hand again. The same warmth from earlier flooded his system again, and he had to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “I get it. Picking up the pieces isn’t easy.”
The pang of understanding that hit Holden made his pulse race. He liked knowing that Gigi got it—that she got him. He liked it maybe a little too much. Looking at her now, he saw more than just the hapless widow who’d almost burned down his carriage house. He saw someone much stronger.
“That it’s not,” he said, pulling his hand away from hers. He needed to get a grip. He needed to get them back on track. Back into whatever zone it was where he wasn’t picturing holding Gigi against him like he had the other night at the festival. Just because she had felt better than he could have possibly imagined didn’t mean that he was allowed to keep thinking about it. Especially after he’d just told her all about Hannah. “So, back to recipes.”
“Right,” she agreed, a little too quickly for his liking.
See, she’s not interested in you like that, so stop it.
“I think we’ve got some good ones. I can run to the store tomorrow morning, and we can try the first one out after that?” she asked.
“Do you want me to go to the store with you?” he asked.
“No, I got it,” she said, pushing up from the table. “I mean, how much damage can I do at a grocery store?” Laughing lightly, she added, “Actually, maybe I should take that back. I best not tempt fate.”
“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
“I do, thank you,” she said, turning to head up the stairs to her room before pausing and turning back around. “And thank you for opening up to me about Hannah. I know that wasn’t easy.”
9
Holden
Never in his life had Holden ended a run more confused than when he’d started it. Running had always served as a method to clear out the cobwebs or whatever was clouding his brain in the moment. Apparently not today, however. Of course, most of those runs had been before he’d met GeorgiaGrace Hawthorne as well.
Yesterday had not gone how he had envisioned. They were just supposed to pick out recipes. Maybe have a few laughs to help brighten her mood. It wasn’t supposed to turn into them opening the door into their lives, their histories, and learning about each other. He hadn’t meant to unload on her about Hannah that way. He also certainly hadn’t meant to spend the rest of the night thinking about holding Gigi close and kissing away the pain he saw in her eyes. No good could come of him thinking about how she was just the right size to fit in his arms—and about all the things he wanted to do to her while she was there.
Still, he felt like he’d only scratched the surface with Gigi. He wanted to know more about her, about everything she’d left behind and what she wanted for her future. He even almost wanted to tell her about himself. She’d thanked him for opening up to her. Who did that? Only other people who knew what it was like to go through such a loss. Except, no matter which way he thought about it, Holden got the distinct impression that maybe Gigi’s loss wasn’t quite like his. Like her losing her husband was actually a good thing. He’d lost his entire world when his girls were stolen from him—Gigi seemed to be determined to find her world now that Bradley was gone. From the very little she’d told him, her late husband did not seem like a nice guy. Even if she’d never come out and said it, he saw it in her eyes and in her skittish actions whenever she was around others. There was a fear there that he didn’t quite understand and probably never would.
Opening the front door to the house, he was immediately assaulted by the sounds of some bubble-gum pop music blasting from the kitchen. It was a complete one-eighty from the heavy metal he’d been listening to on his run, and he couldn’t help but bristle a little from the change. Although the sweet, female voice that was singing along with the auto–tuned pop artist did have the rest of his body alert and paying very close attention.
“Hey!” Gigi called out enthusiastically as he walked into the kitchen. She was already wearing a frilly teal apron over her T-shirt and jeans, her beautiful blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun, looking like she was ready to tackle whatever the kitchen threw at her. All sorts of ingredients were strewn across the counter, haphazardly placed, with what seemed like little to no organization at all. “How was your run?”
“Fine,” he answered, still taking in the whole scene in the kitchen. He wanted to laugh, because every inch of this disorganization screamed Gigi to him, but he knew that would not be received well. Looking back at her, he gave her a bright smile. She looked so fucking cute in that apron. Stop it, she’s not here for you to ogle her. “I see you made it to the grocery okay.”
“I can grocery shop!” she said defensively.
“I didn’t realize that real housewives went grocery shopping,” he joked.
“I was not a real housewife! Those women are…something else entirely.”
Holden barked out a laugh at her response. It was the first time that Gigi had said something even remotely disparaging about someone else, and even in her attempt, she was still nice as could be about it.
“I was going to put everything away, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure where it all went, and I didn’t want to do it wrong.”
“There is so little in these cupboards these days that I’m not really sure there is a system. So, have at it!” he told her. The smile that took over her face could have rivaled a kid at Christmas, and Holden couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little. Had he known all it would take to get that kind of smile out of her was to let her organize a kitchen, he would have done that the day she moved in. “I’m going to take a shower and then we can start. Cool?”
“Cool,” she repeated.
Turning to head up the back stairs, he paused on the first step, turning back to her. “Think we could listen to something a little…a little less teenybopper when I get back though?”
“You did not just say that about Queen Tay. Hashtag T Swift for life!” she told him.
“Got it!” he replied, as he finished making his way up the stairs.
After the quickest shower he could manage, Holden rushed back down the stairs into the kitchen. He was surprised to find the whole place looking like a scene from a magazine. All the bags and boxes that had been strewn about just moments before were now tucked away in their new homes, and all the counters seemed to have been wiped down. The only things that were still out were all the basic ingredients for a chocolate cake.
“I thought this recipe called for box cake mix? Or did you decide not to start with the Better Than Sex cake?” he asked, watching Gigi mix the ingredients together. Her cheeks flushed as he said the cake’s name, just as they had yesterday. Watching her blush like this was easily one of the cutest things he’d ever seen, and like hell if he wasn’t going to keep trying to make it happen.
“It does, but that felt like cheating. Besides, it’s not like I can use a box at the Busy Bean. Trust me, I’ve considered it.”
“That’s fair. So, not to tell you how to do this, Gigi, but you know the oven isn’t on, right?”
“Yeah, I was a little afraid to touch it. Didn’t want to burn down this house too,” she admitted. Her words came out sounding sassy, but the slightly sheepish look on her face betrayed that there was at least some truth to her statement.
“You’re not going to burn down the house by pre-heating an oven,” he told her as he pressed the button on the appliance.
Gigi stopped mixing and just stared at him, a blank expression on her face. After a moment, she stretched out her hand to him, as if they were meeting for the first time.
“Hi, I’m GeorgiaGrace Elyse Hawthorne, née Shaw. Like Shaw Investments, not Shaw flooring. That’s a whole different set of Shaws,” she giggled. He
could tell that this was a very well-rehearsed line of hers, and she could have recited it in her sleep. He also had no idea where she was going with this. “Anyway, when I fail, I do it spectacularly, as evidenced by your carriage house. Also, you told me I wasn’t allowed to bake anything unless you were here.” The saccharine smile she shot him as she finished screamed “so there!”
Holden shifted slightly on his feet as he felt a rush of blood head straight for his dick. He had no idea where this version of her had come from, but fuck if he didn’t like it. The smile still tugging at her pretty pink lips made him want to reach over the butcher block and kiss it right off of her and show her just what she could do with all this sass. Instead, he opted to play into it and see if maybe she felt the sizzle in the air too.
“Admit it. You were really just worried that this cake isn’t better than sex, and that you were going to need me for research,” he said, giving her a wink.
“I’m sure the cake is indeed better than sex,” she replied, her tone just as cheeky as his.
Holden opened his mouth to respond and then stopped himself. Did she just say that she thinks the cake is going to be better than sex? No, you misheard her. There was no way cake was better than sex…
“I seem to have misheard you. You think a cake is going to be better than sex?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“I’ve never understood the hype around sex. I mean, who cares? It's not that good,” she told him with a shrug, pouring the cake batter into the glass pan she’d pulled out.
“You don’t like sex?”
“Nope.”
Holden blinked a couple of times, still not fully understanding. How was it that this stunning creature didn’t like sex? Had her marriage been that bad?
“How do you not like sex? Everyone likes sex.”
“No, not everyone,” she said, like it was completely obvious. “What's there to get so excited about? It's not like it is on TV…all passionate and sweaty. He climbs on top, goes ‘uh uh’ a couple of times, and it’s over. Big deal!”
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