Tears ran down her cheeks as the answer suddenly was as clear as if God had shouted it from the mountains. “I—I want that too. And I'm sorry, too. I let you go instead of fighting for you. I chose my own comfort instead of seeing your need to follow you dreams. Will you forgive me?”
Immediately she was in his arms, his mouth pressed to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her mouth. For the first time since that awful day when she'd been so selfish and naive, she allowed herself to enjoy the touch of her husband, guilt-free.
As his mouth lifted from hers, she sagged against him, the weariness of the day draining her energy.
Oh, she'd missed her husband.
Adam lifted her in his arms and laid her in the bed. He turned off the light, tucked his body beside her, and brought her head to rest on his chest. “You need your sleep, honey. We have all the time in the world for kisses.”
She sighed against him, not even wanting to think about tomorrow yet. Tomorrow held the thought of facing her burnt house, calling her mom with the news, and a promise of a lot of pain and heartache.
Tomorrow could wait.
She just wanted to enjoy this moment.
His whisper echoed in her ears. “Thank you, Tilly.”
She tilted her head up and kissed his chin. “For what?”
His finger traced her cheekbone. “For giving me hope.”
She snuggled into him as sleep swirled and beckoned to her. Before blessed rest claimed her, she offered up her own prayer. Thank you, Jesus, for telling me ‘no’ when I asked you to send Adam away, and for giving me hope for the new life you had planned all along. I’m sorry it took me eighteen years to realize.
Epilogue
Tilly tiptoed across their temporary living room with her gift, careful not to wake Adam. After slipping the rectangular box under the small, artificial Christmas tree that sat on a stand by the front window, she bit back a grin.
Her first Christmas with her husband in eighteen years.
Never, ever would she have hoped for something like this almost two months ago when she blew out those birthday candles.
Sleep evading her, she grabbed a fuzzy blanket and snuggled on the couch, her eyes taking in the snow falling outside the front window, coating everything in a white, dreamy cloud. A perfect Christmas morning.
Everything was changing so fast.
But for the first time in her life, she welcomed every single new thing.
Losing her family home had been crushing, but it had brought about healing in her heart, once and for all.
She'd lived her whole life treating that house—and this town—as her foundation. Her rock of stability to hold on to. But in a blaze of fire, God had shown her that he wanted to be her foundation. Life could change in a blink, so the only firm thing left to cling to was Jesus.
It wasn't an easy transition. She was still a work in progress. But daily God was introducing change and showing that his grace was sufficient.
She lifted her lips in a smile and closed her eyes, joy filling her heart. Today would bring one of the biggest changes of all.
"You look awfully happy for being up at five-thirty in the morning."
Her gaze darted to the other side of the room, where Adam stood shirtless, wearing only his flannel pajama pants.
Heated desire shot through her veins, but there would be plenty of time for that later. "I couldn't sleep."
He sauntered over and, lifting her legs from the couch, sat down and replaced them in his lap.
His hands slid to her bare feet and began massaging them. She closed her eyes and relaxed, letting his fingers push out any last bit of tension. "That feels amazing."
"Good, 'cause it's your Christmas present."
She opened one eye and looked at him.
He winked. "Just kidding. Seriously, though, do you want to go ahead and do presents?"
"You're not anxious or anything, are you?"
His fingers paused, then fluttered against the arch of her foot.
She snatched it back as giggles escaped her lips. "Hey, no tickling."
He stood and took one of the boxes from under the tree and handed it to her. "Sorry. I'm impatient."
"What if I want you to open yours first?"
His eyebrows arched. "Tough luck. Yours first."
She fingered the red and white bow on the present, wondering what it could be. Nothing could top her present for him.
So maybe saving the best for last was a good plan. "Okay."
Her stomach tight with nerves, she tore into the paper and opened the top.
A stack of papers lay inside. She looked up at him for an explanation.
He winked and leaned forward, tapping a finger to the top sheet. "Go on. You'll see. Look at them."
Lifting the stack, she glanced at the cover page. It had their address on it. Their old address. The one that was currently nothing more than a charred foundation after the house had been demoed last week.
The second page was a picture of a house.
It was a spitting image of her family home, only with a few modernized upgrades to the exterior. She blinked. "I'm—confused."
Adam sank into the couch beside her, looking as giddy as a kid headed for Disney. "I worked with a local builder. I gave them pictures I had, and they came up with plans to rebuild almost an exact replica of the old house. Obviously we'll bring it up to date a bit, and we will have a door on the master bedroom this time. But I want to give you your home back. You deserve it."
She blinked away tears that threatened to escape. "I—I don't know what to say. I—"
He took her hand and squeezed. "You don't have to say anything. Your happiness is what I want, Tilly."
The room tilted in dizzying confusion. He was—giving her back her house? Rebuilding it? But what about— She sucked in a breath, trying to find the right words, but her mind was mush.
"Tilly? Everything okay?"
She pressed her palm against her forehead. She had to say something. "But—I don't want this anymore." The words blurted out before she realized just how bad they sounded.
His head reared back. "What do you mean? I thought—We'd talked about it."
She swallowed the rock-hard lump in her throat. "I know we did. I wanted to rebuild what we had, and you wanted something new."
"Exactly. So why—?"
Taking a breath, the early morning fog in her brain started to lift and pieces came together. Her sweet husband was trying to give up what he wanted to make her happy. He just didn't realize she wanted to do the same thing. She held up a hand. "Just—Let me give you your gift."
Standing, she grabbed the smaller box from the tree and handed it to him, then sat down again, legs tucked under her. "Open it."
Still frowning, he tugged open the ribbon and lifted the lid, withdrawing a handwritten note.
Tilly smiled. "I kinda gave you the same gift. I didn't go as far as to have plans drawn up, but my gift to you is doing away with old stuff and embracing change. I want a new house. One built for us that fits our needs, not some people who lived a hundred years ago. I wrote a list of all the things I want in our new house that we'll need."
He looked from the folded piece of paper to her. "That's—amazing Tilly." His voice rumbled thick and low. "I never expected you to do that." He dropped the paper, letting it flutter to the ground, and leaned over, covered her cheeks with his hands, and pressed his lips to hers.
She let him linger, his lips igniting a spark that made her want to forget about Christmas morning and just lead him back to bed. But in the haze, she realized he hadn't even read her note. As much as she hated to, she pushed him away, offering him a coy smile. "You didn't read your letter yet."
He laughed, pecked her once more on the mouth, then reached down and snatched up the letter. Snuggled her to his side, he unfolded the note. "Let's read it together." He cleared his throat. "Updated kitchen with a double oven. Are you planning on cooking a lot?"
She shrugg
ed. "Thought it would be nice."
"Eat-in kitchen. Separate dining room. Playroom—" His forehead creased. "Why do we need a playroom? Are we going to babysit for Reuben and Maddie's twins that much?"
She patted his arm. "They let us stay at their house for two weeks before we found this place. It's the least we could do. Keep reading."
"Three bedrooms. Two and a half bathrooms. So I guess we’re using separate bathrooms or something?"
She forced back a grin and didn't respond, just tapped on the paper. The man needed to read faster.
"Doors on all bedrooms." He laughed. "Now that I can get behind."
"I figured that might be one of your favorites on the list. But keep reading."
He squeezed her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then turned back to the list. "A two-car attached garage. A nursery—" He stopped and looked at her, his eyes wide with shock, then back at the list. His voice stammered, "Why do we—are you—are you pregnant?"
She wrung her hands together. They'd never really talked about a baby, except for how to prevent one. And obviously the 99% success rate wasn't all it was cracked up to be given her current condition. "I took an at-home test earlier this week."
He shifted in his seat and shook his head. "I just—I can't believe it. I—"
Worry jabbed at her. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but in her dreams he'd been jumping for joy. She pushed away from him. "I'm sorry. I know we didn't plan this, but—"
A giant smile spread across his face as he pulled her back and hauled her into his arms, flush against his chest. His heart thudded against her cheek at breakneck speed. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."
He shifted her so he could see her face, and slid a hand down her front to rest on her belly. "You have to realize, I've spent over a decade delivering other people's babies and caring for them, wondering what it would like to experience that with my own wife." He kissed the tip of her nose. "That I get to see our baby grow inside of you is hands down the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for. You've given me my dream come true, Tilly."
Resting her head on his chest, she snuggled into him, peace filling her heart. "Do you hope it's a boy or a girl?"
"Honestly? I'd be fine if we pulled a Maddie and Reuben and had one of each."
She laughed and swatted at his stomach. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, doctor."
A Side of Love Dedication
To Kat, Pepper, Sherrinda, and Valerie.
I thought of y’all at the end of this book.
And giggled a lot.
You may not appreciate it or giggle about it quite as much as I did… but – I hope to make up for that with this dedication.
Love you all, amazing friends of mine!
One
I’m going to die.
Beth Jamison clutched the edge of the cloth-covered table, tears gushing down her face, fire licking at her mouth, stomach and lungs.
Someone thrust a glass of milk in front of her, and she grabbed it with a shaking hand and guzzled.
Slowly the heat relinquished its brutal attack on her body, and she took a hot, shaky breath.
“Beth. Are you okay? What can we do?” Her vision cleared to see The Sandwich Emporium’s owner, Reuben Callahan, kneeling next to the booth, his mouth etched in a frown.
She shook her head and waved to the chicken sandwich in front of her that sported a small indention where her mouth had been. “Ho-ot. Hot. Why hot?” The fire-like breath expelled with her words was more dragon-like than human.
Tilly sat across the table, eyes wide. “Should I call an ambulance?”
Beth shook her head violently. That was all she needed. “No. I’ll be—fine. I just—”
Reuben pushed the milk closer to her. “Drink more of this. I’m going to the kitchen to figure out what went wrong and get you another sandwich.”
Her stomach churned at the thought of putting anything into it, even though she’d been starving when they arrived for dinner. “It’s alright. Not—not sure I could eat it right now even if I wanted to.”
“Still. Sit tight, and I’ll be right back.” The owner took her plate and stalked back to the kitchen.
Beth almost pitied the new chef who was about to hear it from Reuben—but her smoldering mouth didn’t have much sympathy.
Tilly eyed her own plate. “I shouldn’t admit this since I work here, but I’m a little afraid to eat mine now.”
“You had roast beef. You should be fine.”
Then again, who would have guessed she’d get a taste of the sinner’s torment with a small bite of chicken?
Tilly tore off a tiny piece from her beef sandwich, her face screwed up as if she were going to eat some nasty bug on Survivor.
Which would have been preferable to the chicken.
She paused as she touched the beef to her tongue. Her face relaxed. “Whew! It’s clear. If he’d ruined my prime rib sandwich, there would have been some serious consequences. It’s to die for.”
Beth grimaced as her stomach knotted from its own, not-so-delightful meal. “If you want ‘to die for,’ you should’ve tried the chicken.”
Across the restaurant, another scream rang out from a table, followed shortly by a third.
Tilly jumped up to help as a waitress ran and shouted for milk. Reuben burst out of the kitchen, the door swinging behind him for only a moment, as the new chef, a man Beth hadn’t gotten a chance to meet yet, followed, wide-eyed and pale.
Instantly, the heat from her mouth spread, touching every inch of her body with pin-prickly warmth.
Garrett.
He was the new chef?
She hadn’t seen him in—years.
Putting a hand to her hair, she grimaced at the fly-aways coming out of her quickly thrown up ponytail. Couldn’t she have changed it up a little and left it down today? Curled it or something?
Ha. That would be the day.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. She was thirty-five now. Way over her old high school crush on her big brother’s best friend. He was probably married by now, with a house full of kids. She could picture a little girl with dark brown ringlets she’d gotten from her daddy, not that Garrett had ever let his hair grow out long enough to see much of them. And a little boy with an adorable dimple and a passion for getting into goofy mischief just like his dad—
She needed some fresh air.
While her best friend, who also was the general manager of the Emporium, helped with the chaos, she grabbed her purse and jacket and snuck out the door. She should probably have left money for the bill, but she doubted Reuben or Tilly would let her pay for the inedible meal regardless.
Outside, a blast of frigid air cut at her cheeks in stark contrast to the burning sensation still lingering on her tongue.
Pulling on her coat, she dashed across the parking lot to her Prius and ducked inside, starting the engine and cranking the heat to full blast. Rubbing her hands together, she frowned at the growing feeling of unease in her stomach.
Surely the chicken didn’t—
She clamped a hand over her mouth as her whole body lurched. Opening the door, she scrambled out of the car and bent over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the snow-packed pavement.
When the heaving subsided, she braced a hand on the car and took a deep breath, her midsection still clenched in a vice grip.
At least she’d made it outside before her stomach revolted.
Straightening, she startled when a hand thrust a napkin in front of her.
Grabbing it, she dabbed her mouth and turned. “Reuben, I—”
Her words caught in her throat.
Garrett stood before her, his cheeks almost as green as she felt.
***
“Beth? Is that you?” Garrett Hanson stood in shock at the sight of his childhood friend’s little sister whom he’d just effectively poisoned with ghost pepper sauce.
“I—” She dabbed her mouth, her face as white as the snow sprinkling the
ground around them. “I didn’t realize you were back in Sandwich.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. “I just moved back. Reuben hired me—something he might be regretting right about now. Are you okay?”
Her head bobbed up and down, sending her ponytail swinging. Same ol’ Beth. Same hair color—light brown with just a kiss of red. Same insanely adorable nose that tipped up ever so slightly. “I’ll be fine. What happened to the chicken, or should I not ask?”
He replayed his movements in the kitchen for the hundredth time. What had he done wrong? “I was working on a recipe to show Reuben. A new spicy chicken. The sauces somehow got mixed up. I still can’t figure out how I could have grabbed the ghost pepper sauce instead of—” He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. He only worked on the recipe after closing to be sure he didn’t mix them up—even a teaspoon of the secret sauce was enough to make a grown man cry. He’d doused the chicken with the normal glaze right before serving it, but one taste test in the kitchen had confirmed his fear and set his tongue on fire. No wonder it had such an effect on the beautiful—granted, quite woozy—woman before him.
“It’s okay. Mistakes happen.” But even at her words, Beth’s cheeks remained a frightening pale and her body swayed.
Taking a step, he braced her arms with his hands to steady her. “Let’s get you back inside. You need to sit down.”
“No, no I just need to go home. Thank you, though.” Her hands gripped his forearms as she regained her footing.
“Let me get someone to drive you home. I’d offer but—”
“No. You’re needed inside. I can handle it now.”
Color started to return to her cheeks, so he let go of her arms and took a step back, demanding his pulse return to a normal beat.
Not only would he most likely lose his job, but he also set fire to the insides of the girl he once fancied himself in love with. But he was older now and so was she. She was probably married with two kids and a dog by now….
A Side of Faith, Hope and Love: The Sandwich Romance Novella Collection Page 19