“Pasta with prosciutto and peas in a creamy pink sauce and garlic bread coming right up.” She still had cravings for rich comfort food and had been dreaming of that very dish all day yesterday. A quick trip to the market last night, and she had the missing ingredients.
“Hurry,” he said. “Now that you said it, I want it immediately. Five minutes ago.”
She grinned and got to work in the kitchen, enjoying the domesticity.
Ah, another pro, she thought as she put the water on to boil and grabbed the prosciutto from the refrigerator and a cutting board from the cabinet. She liked cooking for herself and Noah because she liked Noah. Cooking for Willem had been a chore because he’d been so picky and finicky. Once, early on in their marriage, she’d grabbed his plate away when he’d complained how his steak looked before he’d even tried it and told him to make dinner himself, then stalked off. His passive-aggressive behavior that followed for days had ended up shaping more of her behavior and response to him than she’d realized. Willem had a been a gaslighter, making her feel crazy for complaining, and in her eyes, he controlled whether her father lived or died. So she’d kept the peace. And destroyed herself in the process.
Not exactly good companion thoughts for making a nice dinner. She poured herself a glass of lemonade and drank half, letting it refresh her, then set her thoughts on her twins and the hot guy on the sofa with his feet up.
Her head set back on straight, she sautéed the prosciutto and garlic, the delicious aroma taking over and making her stomach grumble.
“Can I help with anything?” Noah called from the living room.
Another for the pro column. “I’ve got it, but thanks,” she called back.
How many times had she stood in this very spot at the stove, beside her mother or her father, and shared cooking duties with them? Her dad’s specialty was his favorite dish, chicken parmigiana with a side of very saucy spaghetti. Her mom loved making every kind of seafood and salads with vegetables from her little garden.
There were times, particularly lately, when she thought about her parents and felt so sad that she’d need to sit down and just cry. But right now, sweet memories were coming at her, making her smile. Her parents had loved each other so much.
Con: marrying a man who doesn’t love you that way.
Addendum: she used to believe that Noah did love her that way, even when they were teenagers, and that he truly was protecting her from himself. She’d believed he loved her during their brief and disastrous relationship two years ago. It was now that she wasn’t too sure about. Noah was such a different person these days, and sometimes she couldn’t even read him when she’d been easily able to before. His focus was brand-new to her, and it wasn’t on her or a good time or sex. He was all about the success of the ranch—and now the twins.
But with that little hint of possibility he hadn’t meant to utter aloud, Maybe a second chance for us...
Marrying Noah Dawson would be a leap of faith. Plain and simple. Who knew what would happen?
Con: she didn’t know what was going to happen.
She’d been the one to say their marriage would be strictly business—no hanky-panky, no confusion over what they were doing. So there would be no sex to muck anything up, making her feel closer to him—or farther away, depending. Her feelings for him would be based on how they operated together, how they got along, worked together, took care of the twins together.
“Smells amazing!” she heard Noah call from the living room.
She gave the sauce a stir, not even guilty that it was from a jar. Hey, infants and working and making dinner? Sauce from a jar.
Five minutes later, she had everything stirred in a big blue ceramic bowl and brought it to the table. There was no dining room in the cabin, but the kitchen was eat-in and big enough for a round table for six by the window.
“Come and get it,” she called out.
He appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking at her like he intended to do just that. His blue eyes were intense on her. This wasn’t about appreciation for cooking or anticipation of eating. This was desire—for the chef.
“Now that I put it out there,” he said, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what?” she whispered, a plate of garlic bread in her hand.
“Second chances. Everything I am is about second chances right now. I screwed up things the worst with you, Sara. I’d give anything to make everything right.”
She put down the garlic bread. And rushed into his arms and wrapped her legs around him like she was Rachel McAdams and he was Ryan Gosling in The Notebook.
Not bad for seven and a half weeks postpartum, she thought, their mouths meeting, their bodies pressed so tightly against each other that she truly felt like they were one. They kissed so fervently that her legs couldn’t retain their hold and they slid down. He pressed her against the counter, kissing her harder, hotter, his hands roaming into her hair, down her back, up her back under the light cotton tank top she’d changed into.
Just go with it, she told herself. Go with what you feel, what you want. That is how you get your groove back. Stop overthinking and just feel.
“Uh-oh,” he said, putting her hands on his shoulders, his forehead against hers. “You said this was a no-go if we get married.”
“My way of taking some control of things,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Noah. I just know that I wanted to kiss you.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
“But, but, but, I don’t want to get emotionally caught up in you. That’s not good for me. That’s what I need to avoid. And yes, sex will absolutely push me into that.” She threw up her hands, then grabbed the plate of garlic bread to have something sturdy between them. “What am I doing?”
This was nuts. A minute ago, she was feeling and going with it. Now she was overthinking again and letting that do the controlling.
Why was this so damned hard?
Because she was scared, she suddenly realized. That was it. Scared of losing herself again. And getting hurt again.
“Let’s eat, okay?” she said, pushing past him to the table.
“I’ll try not to look at you like I want to devour you again,” he said. “That wasn’t a fair move.”
For a woman who hasn’t had sex since she conceived? So true. At least she was pretty sure that night was the last time. Willem had been obsessed with her menstrual cycle and planning, and once he’d hit on the right window, he’d ignored her.
Anyway. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her the way Noah had just then. Kissed her like that. Made her want so much more.
She sat down and heaped some pasta on her plate, then busied herself eating. The rich, creamy pink pasta and bacon and peas were every bit as delicious and comforting as she’d expected.
“Mmm, this is so good,” he said, reminding her of sex again. She paused, her fork in midair, and watched him twirl a forkful into his gorgeous mouth. He took a drink of his bottled beer, then looked at her. “I’m going to take your lead from here on in. On whether we get married, whether we continue that kiss. No pressure from me, Sara.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Oh, and I should qualify that comment about the second chance. I mean just having you with me. My partner. My wife. Having you back.” He glanced down, then cleared this throat. “But not in a romantic sense. Just like you said. We tried that, and we both know what happened. There’s way too much at stake to mess anything up between us.”
She stared at him. Was he backtracking or did he mean that? Was he truly worried that he’d drive her away again? She wasn’t sure.
She cleared her throat and then just nodded.
Great, she thought, pushing her pasta around on her plate. She had no idea what she wanted, what she was doing. But what he’d said helped put things in a stalling pattern, whi
ch was exactly what she and they did need.
Feeling better, she took a bite of garlic bread. She really had to get herself assigned to another of the retreat seminars. Because she felt a part of her groove burning brightly back inside her—the red-blooded woman who’d thought that piece of her was gone.
Thanks to Noah just looking at her, she knew it wasn’t.
* * *
After dinner, Sara had excused herself to her room and tried to read a book from the living room shelves on animal husbandry, but she couldn’t concentrate. What she needed was a walk, some space from Noah where he wasn’t upstairs or downstairs, so aware of his presence in the cabin, despite the closed door and a gleaming gold lock on it.
That kiss just loomed a little too large.
Wow.
Now she’d had a taste of what it was to be an actual sexual person again, and there was an incredibly sexy man in the vicinity who made her legs feel all rubbery.
She found Noah in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and going through a stack of invoices, his laptop open in front of him.
“Can I help with anything?” she asked, standing in the doorway.
He looked up at her, and for a split second she saw so much in his eyes, in his expression, but then he flipped neutral. “Nope. Just reconciling some inventory.”
“I thought I’d go for a walk,” she said. “Get some air. You’ve got the twins?”
“Absolutely. Go ahead.”
What a luxury. To be a single mother of infants and to be able to do anything on her own, let alone take a refreshing walk. That was thanks to Noah.
He glanced at his watch. “The retreat group’s final lecture of the evening is scheduled to go on until nine thirty, so you might want to head away from the lodge if you’re looking for time alone.”
Hmm. It was 9:10 now. Maybe she would actually head straight for the lodge and make sure all was well, that the lodge fridge had enough bottled waters and that the fruit bowls weren’t depleted. She could catch the last of Connie’s talk from just outside the doorway.
She checked on the twins, then headed back to the kitchen. “The babies are fast asleep. Thanks for letting me get some air. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he said. “I mean that.”
He did. That wasn’t in doubt.
As she turned to go, she could feel his eyes on her. The pull to turn back, to just walk up to him and hug him for so many different reasons, was almost too strong. She forced herself to the door.
The moment it closed behind her, she let out a breath. Up ahead on the path toward the lodge, she saw a slim figure with long wavy hair. A retreat participant? She couldn’t tell in the dim lighting offered by the light posts that dotted the paths every now and then. But when the woman turned slightly toward the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, she could see a pregnant belly. That was definitely Daisy Dawson.
“Daisy!” she called out in as hushed a voice as she could muster.
Daisy turned around, and Sara could tell she was straining to see. “Sara?”
Sara jogged over. “Taking a walk, getting some air, a breather. Noah’s watching the babies. Well, they’re sleeping, but he put himself on twins duty.”
Daisy grinned. “How’d he become father of the year?” she asked, then her eyes widened and she touched Sara’s arm. “I’m sorry. I keep putting my foot in my mouth about that. I know he’s not Annabel’s dad. Or Chance’s, of course. And clearly, you two have worked something out. But I need to stop thinking of my brother as Annabel’s dad.”
“He still thinks of himself that way. Of both babies. Talk about taking responsibility,” she added with a chuckle, trying to make Daisy less uncomfortable.
“So...how does that work, exactly?” Daisy asked. “I mean, you’re playing house, but you’re not a couple and he’s not their father.”
She’d always admired Daisy’s forthrightness. Her brother shared that with her. “Can I swear you to secrecy? I only want your discretion because I’m not sure I should be sharing your brother’s private business, you know?”
“Promise,” Daisy said, holding up two fingers.
“He proposed to me. A marriage-in-name-only kind of thing. He’d get to be the twins’ father. I get the security of a home on the guest ranch I was raised on. He even offered me half his share of the place, Daisy. That’s how serious he is.”
Daisy stopped on the path, the moonlight filtering through the treetops and capturing her amazed expression. “Wow. I mean, I’m not surprised to hear any of it. But wow.”
“Wow is right.”
Daisy stared at her. “And you said, I ask nosily?”
“I said yes, then basically said I don’t know. I don’t know. For all the reasons you can imagine. You know my history with Noah. And after what I went through in my marriage, I want to stand on my own two feet. No one is dying. I’m not desperate. I’m not trying to save anyone’s life. It’ll be hard, but I can do this on my own. I have this great job now. A place to live that makes me feel safe and comforted.”
“I get it,” Daisy said. “It’s like you want to say yes for some reasons and no for other reasons, and no side is stronger than the other.”
“Exactly. So what do I do?” Sara asked on another chuckle but immediately sobered.
“Sometimes my secret dream is that someone amazing will propose to me,” Daisy said, a hand on her belly. She sighed and stared up toward the moon. “I was dating the father for three months. The condom broke, and then suddenly he was scarce. When I found out I was pregnant and told him, he said he was really sorry but he wasn’t serious about me and he was only in Cheyenne temporarily, and then he just disappeared.”
“Oh, Daisy, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what’s in my future. Well, except being a single mother.”
“I’m here for you,” Sara said. “Anything you need, I’m here.”
Daisy pulled her into a hug. “Thank you. A lot.” She stepped back, and they resumed walking. “Is it terrible that I’m finding reasons to listen in on Connie’s talks? She’s so good.”
Sara smiled. “I know! I’m doing the same thing. In fact, that’s why I’m headed toward the lodge. To check that the fridge is stocked with enough water bottles.”
“Um, that was my plan,” Daisy said with an evil grin. “There’s only about fifteen minutes left, so I don’t feel too guilty.”
They linked arms and kept walking, the pretty white clapboard lodge with its steeply pitched roof and wraparound porch coming into view.
“Let’s go check that water,” Sara said.
“And the fruit bowls and granola bar bowl,” Daisy added with a nod.
They headed inside and walked over to the kitchenette in the corner. A rectangular bar table separated the kitchen from the room, and they stepped behind it, both quietly “taking inventory.” Sara made a note to add more apples to the bowl for the morning.
“So let’s go over the most important step to getting your groove back,” Connie was saying to the participants seated before her in a semicircle. “Figuring out what you want.”
Sara glanced at Daisy, who was riveted by Connie. Daisy pulled a small notebook and pen from her back pocket and jotted something down. Sara could just make out that it said, What do I want?
“Maybe you want your husband to cook two nights a week,” Connie went on. “Maybe you want a more satisfying job. Or a raise. One hour to yourself every night. Or your teenaged daughter to stop talking to you disrespectfully. Maybe you want more intimacy with your husband. Or a divorce. Or to stop arguing with your mother. Maybe you want a week’s vacation at a beach. Or to see Italy. Maybe you want to read more. Become a mother. Or not. Maybe you want to learn to knit or take a German class or go skydiving. Whatever it is you want, identify it. If there’s more than one immediate thing, write down the top t
hree things you want, no matter how big or how small.”
“Man, she’s good,” Daisy whispered, jotting down the assignment and then flipping her notebook closed and returning it to her pocket.
Sara nodded, her attention on Connie’s words. What is it that I want? Really want?
I want to feel safe in the world.
The answer came faster than Sara thought. There it was, loud as it could be in every part of her. Safety.
“And the next step?” Connie went on. “Making a list of what steps you can take to get what you want. For example, let’s say you want more intimacy with your husband, who watches the game, then a movie, and you’ve barely said two words since either of you got home. Maybe you suggest going to a movie, even if you have to see something you’re not all that interested in. Maybe you suddenly give him a neck and shoulder massage. Maybe when you get out of the car in the Home Depot parking lot, you take his hand. You can start and see where it leads. Little things can lead to results.”
Huh. Steps to feeling safe in the world. What makes me feel safe? Feeling financially secure. Being able to take care of my children. So having a good job, which I now have. A nice home, which I now have, even if it’s not the most traditional living situation.
And somehow, out of nowhere, Noah Dawson makes me feel safe.
So, I’m doing exactly what I need to in order to get what I want.
“Tomorrow, we’ll talk more about what to do when those steps don’t feel feasible,” Connie said. “But tonight, our homework is to think about what we want and if we feel comfortable, to start making those lists of steps we can take to achieve our goal or goals.” She looked around at the participants with a warm smile. “It’s been a great first day, full of wonderful new experiences. This time is your own. Perhaps for an evening walk or back to your cabins to rest up for tomorrow. The lodge’s fridge is stocked with beverages and snacks that are free for the taking, so help yourselves.”
“We’re a bit low on fruit for the morning,” Daisy said. “I’ll go pop by the kitchen and replenish, then I’ll head home. I want to start my homework right away.”
For the Twins' Sake Page 13