Working Back

by BJ Harvey

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head, a slow-growing smile curving my lips. I square my shoulders and take a step back. “Now more than ever, I really need to learn a meal that’s going to blow his socks off.”

  That earns soft laughter from everyone.

  “Oh, no, Faith. It’s not his socks you wanna blow,” Marcy says with a wicked smirk and a devilish gleam in her eye.

  “Marcy!” Mom says with a giggle. April’s mouth drops open, and Ronnie just throws her head back and cackles loudly.

  “What?” Marcy says, holding her hands up. “Am I wrong?” She quirks a brow at April, Ronnie and finally me before she nods. “I’m right. I may have birthed those men, but I’m also married to the one who sired them, and I know they’re all a chip off the ol’ block.”

  Mom shakes her head, but she’s also smiling when she meets my gaze. “She’s not wrong, Bakes.”

  “Okay, I’ve gotta ask. What’s with Bakes? I thought it was a Baker thing, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?” April asks.

  Marcy and Mom swap a look between each other before chuckling. “My Faith has always been good at everything. Anything she tried and set her mind to, she bested with ease.”

  Marcy grins. “Except cooking.”

  “And baking,” Mom adds.

  “Really, anything to do with food,” I grumble.

  “Ohhhh,” April says, her eyes lit with amused understanding.

  “Wait, you made pasta salad for the party here a few weeks ago. I had some. It was okay.”

  “Cooking store-bought pasta in hot water and adding bacon, avocado, tomato and spinach leaves with dressing is not exactly culinary genius,” I say with a shrug.

  “I once dated a guy who burned boiling water,” April adds.

  I snicker. “What?”

  “Yep. Put the water on the stovetop and forgot about it. By the time I arrived for our date, the fire department was just turning up.”

  “Wow,” I gasp before joining Ronnie, Mom, and Marcy and laughing.

  “Did he get another date?” Marcy asks.

  “Hell no. I was about to break up with him anyway. Seeing hot firefighters save his ass was just the icing on the cake,” April says.

  “I still think a nine-year-old Faith using her Easy-Bake Oven to conduct science experiments and melting plastic takes the cake,” Mom helpfully adds.

  Ronnie shakes her head. “Oh, Lord. I had one of those. Sheila wouldn’t let me use it. I think it’s probably still in pristine condition in a storage unit somewhere.”

  “Sheila?” I ask.

  “My mother. Or the woman who gave birth to me but who probably had an elective C-section because I swear if anyone were too posh to push, it would be her.”

  “She’s not wrong,” April says before standing and walking toward me as I grab the bags I came with and walk around the kitchen island. She reaches my side and helps me unpack the groceries. “So, Bakes. What are we cooking?”

  I look over to Marcy, Mom, and Ronnie, who now stand opposite us.

  “Bryant’s favorite,” Marcy replies, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Oh, Faith. Don’t make plans for Saturday night in two weeks’ time. April and I are taking you out. Us Cook wives have to stick together,” Ronnie says.

  “Okay,” I say with a smile, liking that I’m part of the wives now. “Where are we going?”

  “Our friends Mia and Natalie are having a sex-toy party, and you’re coming,” April announces, her gaze pinned on me.

  “Ah…” I look between Mom and Marcy, not expecting to see them nodding in approval.

  “That’s a brilliant idea. Because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and his—” Mom’s hand shoots up to cover Marcy’s mouth, so all we hear is “mmph-hmph.”

  Ronnie’s eyes are dancing when they meet mine. “I don’t think any of us need a translation for that,” she says with a laugh. “But she’s not wrong.”

  I nod because honestly, there’s nothing else to say. She’s married to my husband’s twin, and from growing up with the Cook brothers, I know for a fact that all of them—even Cohen, who was just coming into himself when I left—are men who are men, and they all had plenty of women at their beck and call. They probably still would do if Jax and Jamie hadn’t met the awesome women in front of me. Bryant may be understanding and willing to wait for things to happen naturally, but a woman can never have enough weapons in her arsenal.

  “Soooo, now that we’ve blown my mind and discussed not only my lackluster cooking skills but also the fact that the love of my life has waited for me while I was off making something of myself, what are we cooking and can I do it without burning anything?”

  Mom and Marcy look at each other before turning approving eyes my way. “You’re going to get there, Bakes, and as you do, just know you’ve got all of us girls cheering you on.”

  My throat tightens, and I have to swallow the big lump growing there. “Okay, before you make me cry again, can you teach me how to blow Bryant’s taste buds?”

  “Always good to start somewhere. I’ve always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Mom says with a proud smile.

  “Just remember to move south before the end,” Marcy deadpans. We all burst out laughing before setting out to teach this old dog—me—new cooking tricks.

  First step is his stomach, then who knows? Maybe Marcy isn’t so wrong about working my way down.

  One thing is for sure, it’s his heart that’s the end goal.

  Bryant

  Bryant—Hey. I’m on my way home from Jamie’s place. Do we need anything? I thought I could pick us up some takeout on the way.

  Faith—No need. I’m cooking you dinner.

  Bryant—What did the moms do to you last weekend?

  Faith—Nothing!

  I stare at the message for a good thirty seconds, disaster scenarios flashing through my mind. In the almost six weeks since we’ve been living in the house together, either I’ve cooked, or we’ve had takeout. Faith made a salad for the surprise party at Mom and Dad’s house, but even she said it wasn’t anything harder than chopping vegetables and boiling water. I’ve always liked cooking, and finally having someone I care about to cook for does not mean it’s a hardship. Besides, Faith has been helping in other ways, with cleaning and laundry. She even stopped by on her lunch break on Wednesday to bring Jamie and I food from that same burger place I took her to after car shopping.

  I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when something shifted in my wife’s mindset toward this whole marriage thing, but in the past two weeks, there has definitely been a change. Like she’s making a concerted effort to make this work—or doing what she thinks she has to do to make this work. That’s not to say she’s doing anything begrudgingly; it’s little things like the lunch delivery, the visit to the moms’ last weekend, and she’s even planned an outing with April and Ronnie to a sex-toy party.

  Irrespective of all of that, Jamie and I still don’t need—or want—our soon-to-be-replaced kitchen destroyed before we do the carefully planned demo.

  Bryant—Do you have the fire department on speed dial?

  Faith—I promise I have the fire extinguisher within arm’s reach. Besides, I’m not planning on burning down the house, Jamie would kill me.

  Bryant—So you’re worried about the wrath of my big brother and not your own husband?

  Faith—My husband is a teddy bear.

  Bryant—Your husband is a man who has put—and is planning on putting—a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into the house, and he can’t do that if it’s a smoking pile of ash.

  Faith—Still, he is a teddy bear.

  Bryant—A hungry, grizzly one right now.

  Faith—Then you better let me go so I can do my wifely duty and feed my man.

  Fuck, that feels good.

  Bryant—What’s with the wifely duty thing? You know I have never expected you to cook and clean for me.

  Faith—What if I want to…?

&nbs
p; I have no words. For the first time in a long while, I’m speechless.

  Bryant—We can split it. I cook. You clean.

  Faith—You really don’t trust me to cook something edible? Maybe I’ll surprise you.

  Bryant—As long as that surprise doesn’t come with a side of salmonella, knock yourself out.

  Faith—OMG. No! I promise not to poison you. But on the unlikely chance I do, I promise to be your personal slave for a month.

  Bryant—Only a month?

  Faith—I note you didn’t question the slave part of that promise.

  Bryant—Babycakes, you have no idea what the thought of you serving for my pleasure does to a man like me.

  Faith—I do now. I’ll take the idea under advisement.

  Faith—And thank you for putting your health on the line to make me a happy wife.

  Bryant—Well, you know what they say…

  Faith—Happy wife, happy husband?

  Bryant—And a happy husband always makes sure the wife has a reason to be happy ;) See you when I get home.

  Having played golf with Jamie, Jase, our friend Matt and his brother Noah, I’ve been out of the house since early this morning. Jamie’s house may only be twenty minutes away from our current home, but I know I couldn’t handle going home now to watch Faith Cook attempt to make us dinner.

  I’m not so blinded by relief that she’s back—and for now, staying in my life—that I can forget her past cooking failures.

  “Thought you were heading home?” Jamie asks, walking out onto the back deck with a beer in hand, which I swipe off him as soon as he’s within arm’s reach.

  I take a big gulp and lower the bottle, cradling it in my lap. My oldest brother sighs and sits down, pulling another beer out from God knows where and cracking it open with his ever-present multi-tool.

  “Faith sent me a text. She’s cooking dinner.”

  Jamie splutters, pulling his bottle away and coughing as he struggles to catch his breath. “Say what now?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Look. We were just going to have steak and salad for dinner, but you’re welcome to stay and eat while you can.”

  I roll my eyes. “Like it’s my health you’re worried about.”

  “Well there’s that, but also, is Faith safe enough to cook in that kitchen?” he says with a smirk.

  “Shouldn’t that be ‘Is the kitchen safe enough for my wife to cook in?’”

  “Ah, yeah, sure. Let’s go with that,” he says with a knowing smirk. “But remember, the wife is always right.”

  “You’ve been married for two days longer than I have,” I deadpan.

  Jamie rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Yet I’ve had more committed relationships than you’ve probably had edible dinners from Faith.”

  “I haven’t had any edible dinners as of yet, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t sit down, say thank you, and eat them regardless,” I say, meeting his eyes and not looking away.

  He stares at me, and I feel him searching for any uncertainty. I’m not worried though because there’s none to see. Faith hasn’t given me anything to worry about so far. I had expected some unease, a warming up period so to speak, but there hasn’t been a single misstep marriage-wise yet. She had the freak-out at the party but didn’t pitch a fit about our somewhat orchestrated close proximity by sharing a room or any other part of our relationship.

  I’ve been letting her lead the way in regards to the physical side of things. Since our lighthearted golf bet that turned into a signal of sexual intent, she’s been more relaxed, and the Faith I used to know that loved to be close is back.

  I stand and down the last of my beer while meeting my brother’s gaze. I reach out an arm and grip his hand tight as we do a quick finger-grab-and-fist-bump maneuver. “Thanks for today. It was fun. And tell Ax we’ll be there for his first baseball game.”

  Jamie’s eyes soften at the mention of his stepson. “He’d like that. Although April has already warned me she’s one of those loudmouthed, competitive mom types,” he says, ending with a half-smirk.

  I quirk a brow. “And that surprises you? Your wife is almost as protective as you are, and that’s saying something.”

  Jamie chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re right about that, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

  “And that’s why you put a ring on it.”

  “Is that the reason you did the same?” he asks, but I know he doesn’t expect an answer because he knows it already.

  “It was always her.”

  “And everything I’ve seen says it’s always been you for her too.”

  Fuck that feels good.

  “Tell me this before you go. Has anything happened so far that tells you she’s not in this for the long haul?”

  “No,” I say without any hesitation whatsoever.

  “Have you let her in completely? Have you talked about your life since she left? Your hopes, your dreams, where you wanna be and who you wanna be with in twenty, thirty, and fifty years?”

  “Not yet. But you know that everything I’ve ever done is for her. All of it. I want to build a life with her, renovate our own home like you did here.” I wave my arm back toward the amazing house we flipped with Jamie. “I want kids and a dog and—”

  Jamie stands and cups my shoulder, locking eyes with mine. “You’re holding back something though. Honestly, I get it, but if I can see it, she can too, and unless you give it all to her and take the risk, you won’t get to the place where you can have everything you want to have.”

  “I’m close. It’s just…”

  “Okay. How’s this then? Have you talked about why she left?”

  “I know why. I figured it out after the anger and hurt started to fade away,” I say, it feels great to say it out loud. “And she left because she got the summer internship in Sydney, and had also applied to a master’s program at the same time.”

  “No, that’s the reason for leaving. What’s the why?” he says, giving me a firm squeeze before stepping back. “Once you know that, that wall you’re fighting to hold up will come crashing down and what will be revealed will be so fucking good, you’ll wonder why you wasted so much time fighting it.”

  “I know why,” I admit quietly. “She felt overshadowed by our relationship and the weight of expectation, exacerbated by my proposing the night before she left, which was a breaking point. I was more than willing to do long-distance while she did the internship and finished her master’s.”

  “Did she know that?”

  Now it’s time for me to confess my fault in all of this. “No. I didn’t get the chance to tell her. But being older and wiser means I can see the mistakes of my past clearly enough to know I won’t make them again this time.”

  “Not to be a smartass, but you do know that as much as I appreciate you telling me all of this, I’m not the one you need to say all of this to.”

  “You’re quite smart for an old guy,” I say, earning me the middle finger and a deep, rumbling laugh.

  “Smart enough to marry me,” April says, appearing in the open doorway that leads back inside.

  “Best decision I ever made,” Jamie says, his eyes going soft. April’s, however, are flashing with heat.

  “And on that note, I’m off to see what Faith is cooking me.” I move toward April, stopping when she gently places her hand on my arm.

  “I won’t tell you how I know, but I can say this. I can tell you this. She’s willing to move mountains and fight with her bare hands to be the best wife and woman for you,” she says quietly.

  “What she still doesn’t realize is she’s the only woman for me. Always has been. Always will be.”

  “You should tell her that.”

  “My ring is on her finger.”

  April sighs, shaking her head slightly. “Sometimes, a ring is just a piece of metal.”

  “Not this one.”

  April leans up and brushes her lips against my cheek. “She was made for you, honey.�
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  God, that feels good to hear from someone who didn’t know pre-split Bry and Faith.

  April pulls back with a suspicious grin. “Now get home because I have it on good authority that she’s cooking your favorite meal.”

  I gulp because I’ve had bad lasagnas and good lasagnas but never one that has the potential to ruin my love of the dish. I don’t want that to change now.

  April’s eyes narrow, obviously reading my concern. “Don’t you even go there, mister. I’ve never seen a woman more determined to make pasta than Faith Cook. And believe me, she didn’t stop trying until she got it right.”

  That makes me grin because if there’s one word to describe my wife, it’s determined.

  “Okay. Now I really want to get home and see what culinary madness my wife has created.”

  “Good luck,” Jamie calls out, pulling April into his side. “Maybe have Cohen on speed dial. You know, just in case… ouch, lovely. What was that for?”

  “Have a little faith in… well, Faith,” she says with a giggle.

  “Thanks for the concern for my health but I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, then Faith will be none the wiser. That’s what husbands do, right?” I say, looking directly at my brother.

  “That’s what husbands do,” he says, his smile broad and wise.

  Another wave and I’m out the door, heading home, ruminating over Jamie and April’s words the entire way there.

  Bryant

  The moment I walk through the door, I’m hit with the delicious scent of garlic and herbs, and my mouth salivates in anticipation. Definitely a pleasant surprise considering I’d been expecting a hint of smoke in the air.

  “Hey,” Faith calls out. “Dinner won’t be long.”

  “Hey. I’ll just take my gear off and wash up.”

  “Shit. Damn. Ouch,” is all I hear coming from the kitchen.

  With a smile on my face, I put away my helmet and jacket in the hall cupboard. Bending down, I remove my boots as more curses follow.

  “Motherfucking moose knuckle!”

  I lose it and start out-and-out laughing.

  A few stomps later, Faith’s head appears through the doorway, her narrowed eyes glaring at me. “What are you laughing at?”