That just meant things had to halt right now.
“I want you to get on a plane and return to your old life, Billie. That’s what I struggle with.”
I could tell her thoughts had been elsewhere. The realization showed in her eyes, two beautiful green windows that couldn’t lie to me.
“Are you ready for that?” I asked. “Dinner in Martha’s Vineyard?” I got up from the barstool and went over to the counter, refilling my glass of wine.
As I was pouring some in her glass, I heard, “No.”
I put the bottle down, pushing my ass against the hard stone as I faced her. “I’m going to keep asking.”
“I know.” Her voice turned so soft.
I almost got the impression she was walking over to the ceramic pot just to distract herself. She then took off the lid and grabbed two forks.
I’d smelled the roast when I came in and again when she’d checked on the beef. I just thought my nose had fooled me. I’d expected a more difficult meal, challenging my knowledge of flavor, not a traditional dinner like she had chosen.
I should have known better.
“That’s one of my favorite dishes,” I said as she began pulling apart the meat.
She looked at me. “Mine too.” When she finished, she speared a small red potato from the same pot and took the few steps to hand it to me.
The skin popped when I bit into it. “Damn it, you can cook.”
I handed the fork back, and she did the same with a piece of meat.
“Now, try this.”
As I surrounded the beef with my mouth, my eyes locked with hers. “Jesus,” I groaned. The roast was juicy and tender and rich in flavor. “That’s unbelievable.”
“Come here.” She waved me over. “I’ll make you a bowl. That’s how I like to eat mine.”
She took one out of a cabinet and added in some meat, potatoes, and vegetables before covering it all with broth.
I reached forward to take it, her stare meeting mine the same time my hand touched the bowl. The look returned to her eyes—the one from the other night that had almost caused me to kiss her. The same one that had forced a war in my head to make sure I didn’t.
And now, I was here again.
“Billie …” There was a need hammering in my body, hardening at how badly I wanted to be inside her. And then there was the logical side, the part of my brain that kept reminding me why that was such a bad idea. Enough that I had to tell her again, “We can’t do this. It’s not going to help either of us.”
She briefly glanced down, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip. It was wet and glossy, a combination that was extremely sexy on her. Slowly, that piercing gaze returned to me. “Then, why are you looking at me that way?”
FORTY-THREE
HONEY
SPRING 1986
“HAPPY ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY, BABY,” Andrew said in Honey’s ear.
She leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, watching the sunset from the beach in Aruba. “Happy anniversary.” She brought the champagne glass to her lips and swallowed just as the sun dipped below the horizon, adding more colors to the already-stunning sky.
Honey couldn’t believe, exactly one year ago, she had married Andrew in front of the beautiful lighthouse. In some ways, it felt like the year had flown by, many things in her life changing during that time. Their condo was now fully decorated, she had received a promotion at the DMV, Valentine had a boyfriend, and the four of them had gone on several double dates. But in many ways, the year had dragged, reminding her of how many times she had gotten her period, how she would have to wait another month to see if their efforts had worked.
Each month, the moments grew darker.
No one in her life seemed to understand, so she didn’t talk to anyone about it. Each day that passed, she became harder on herself. She was married to the most wonderful man, they had a gorgeous home, and she loved her job. All of that should be enough. And it had been for a short period, and then the desire to be a mother had come with a vengeance.
“I got you something,” Andrew said, kissing the top of her head.
She pulled back from his shoulder and gazed at her husband. They had already exchanged gifts in Portland last week, and this trip had been Andrew’s second present to her. The box he had just taken out of his pocket was the third.