I found them in my dad’s study. “I’m packed.”
Mo flinched, and I sighed. I wasn’t a kid. And I wasn’t heinous. What was his problem?
“Mo and I need a little more time here,” my father said.
“Here’s my key. If you want to drive to my place and get settled without me, you can.” Mo handed me a key to his house. “I set up the back room for you.”
A few hours ago, I was saying, “I do,” and now I was being given a key to my new home to go to without my husband. But I took it.
“Don’t give Mo any trouble,” my father said as I turned to leave.
“I’m not eight, Dad. I know how to act.”
I felt tears come to my eyes for reasons I wasn’t quite sure of. Perhaps it was because he, too, saw me as a kid. It occurred to me that they both saw this situation as an adoption more than a marriage. Whether Mo liked me or not, I deserved to be treated like the adult I was.
“Yes, of course, honey. I just…well, I’m so grateful to you, Mo. I don’t want to put you out.”
I was the one having to pack up and move. If anyone should feel put out, it was me.
“Make yourself at home, Brooke,” Mo said with a friendly smile.
With a sigh, I headed out to my car. I loaded in my bags and the food and then drove the few minutes up the road to Mo’s. The house was far enough off the road that I didn’t worry about hiding my car from prying eyes. Mo was worried about people finding out that the mayor married a child bride, I thought with a roll of my eyes.
I used his key to enter the house. The first thing that struck me was the realization that the last time I’d been in Mo’s house, I actually had been a kid. Dad and I had gone over for dinner. Shelley had still been in Mo’s life. As I looked around the living area, I didn’t see any signs of her. I wondered if she took everything when she left, or if Mo got rid of it when she walked out. The home was clean and cozy, but definitely lacking a woman’s touch. There wasn’t much color or decoration.
I took the food items to the kitchen and put them away. Then, I carried my bags to the room I thought Mo had designated for me. Like the living room, it was clean and tidy but a bit sparse. I put my clothes away and set out my trinkets. Officially settled in, I went back to the kitchen and started dinner. I was an independent woman but didn’t have a problem with adopting some traditional roles. I’d been cooking dinner for my father for years by the time I left for college.
I turned on the music on my phone as I got to work in the warm, country kitchen. I decided on something fairly easy and tasty, pasta with pesto. I also made a salad and garlic bread. I was just about to worry that I’d be eating alone when I heard the front door open.
All of a sudden, my nerves lit up. Not that I was worried about what Mo would do. He wasn’t going to do anything, that I was sure of. But still, I was now married to a man I’d loved and admired for so long.
He appeared in the kitchen doorway. “That smells delicious.”
I smiled. “Good. It’s just about ready.”
He nodded. “Let me clean up.”
He looked cleaned up to me. He was still in the dark suit that made him look distinguished and handsome.
I served up the plates, found a bottle of wine, and set it all on the table.
“You know, you don’t have to cook for me. I don’t want you to feel indebted.”
“We just got married. It seemed like we should have a nice dinner,” I said.
His smile blanched slightly. I turned away, not wanting the reminder that he thought this was a big bad idea.
“I cook for Dad all the time. It’s no big deal, Mo.” My voice had a slight edge to it. I wondered if he noticed. I took the bread from the oven and served it as well.
He held my chair for me as I sat, and I hated how my heart melted at the gesture.
“I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward,” he said.
I shrugged.
“The truth is, it is awkward,” he said, sitting at the table.
“I don’t know why.” Of course, I did know, but maybe if I acted like it was no big deal, he’d relax.