The Life That Mattered (Life Duet 1)

“Your dinner is in the oven, keeping warm,” Ronin murmured as he rinsed the last dish.

“You made dinner?” I wrapped my arms around him, resting my cheek on his back.

“I need a shower, babe. You might not want to hug me. But yes, I made dinner.”

“It’s eight-thirty. Are the kids really asleep?” I slipped on an oven glove and retrieved my dinner.

“Yep, or at least they’re probably close.”

“Bathed?” I set my plate on the counter and glanced at Ronin, giving him a raised brow.

He dried his hands and hung the wet towel over the dishwasher handle. “Yes. Bathed. Any more questions before I shower?” Ronin crossed his arms over his broad chest.

I loved the way he looked after a day on the slopes in his fitted shirt, messy hair, and the perfect shadow of stubble covering his handsome chiseled face.

“No more questions.” I grinned, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “You seem to have a bit more energy today.”

“It’s been an okay day. I’m not sure I have that much more energy, but I’ve been in a good mood all afternoon, and that goes a long way.”

I nodded slowly, taking a seat at the little nook by the window. “Lila was in a good mood today too.”

“I figured.” Ronin turned and disappeared down the hallway.

I poked around at my dinner, no longer feeling hungry. He figured. What did I expect? He told me everything. I let him think I believed him, even when I knew my doubts overshadowed the true conviction I fed to him at the shop two weeks earlier. The worst part? I think he knew. Disappointment took up residence in his eyes when he looked at me … when I couldn’t hold his gaze.

He figured.

Lila had a good day. Ronin had a good day. Coincidence? God … I hoped so. After forcing several bites of food, I covered my plate and put it in the fridge. Tiptoeing into Franz’s room, I gave him a kiss on the head. He didn’t even stir. Then I did the same to Anya. She released a heavy sigh, which made me smile. Ronin had not only made dinner; he wore the kids out, bathed them, and had them asleep before nine.

As I sneaked out of Anya’s room, Ronin’s voice stopped me. Tears filled my eyes. After two weeks of silence, he was singing Sinatra in the shower again. My lips curled into a much needed smile. The whole day had been filled with smiles.

Lila had a good day. Ronin had a good day.

Releasing a slow breath, I pulled my sweater over my head while instinct guided me to the bathroom. One by one, my clothes dotted the floor like crumbs on a trail.

“Evie.” Ronin grinned as I opened the glass shower door.

I stepped inside, closing my eyes as he retreated to let me under the shower head. When I opened my eyes, Ronin was just … gazing at me like he did that day in the little cafe in Vancouver. It made my heart feel light, like it had wings, exactly like that day in Vancouver.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to.

“I’m glad you had a good day.” I moved behind him, kissing along his back.

Ronin pressed his hands to the tile wall, bowing his head. My fingers massaged his back, inching lower until he moaned.

“Yes … god that feels incredible.”

He mentioned a bit of back pain the previous day. I didn’t think much of it, until Lila said she had lower back pain.

It’s sciatic pain, shoots down the back of my good leg.

Her words replayed in my mind as my thumbs kneaded lower, working to his left side and down over the tight muscles of his buttock.

“Evie … god … right there. How did you know I needed that right there?”

I hoped his question was rhetorical because I couldn’t answer. Too many tears falling down my face mingled with the water as a hard lump formed in my throat.

You feel her …

What did it mean? If I acknowledged it, what was I supposed to do? What would happen next? Was Lila dying in spite of her great strides toward recovery? Or would she live, leaving Ronin to be a voodoo doll enduring every painful moment of her life … for the rest of her life?

We stayed in the shower until the hot water evaporated into a lukewarm stream. Ronin shut off the water and turned toward me. Water clung to his thick eyelashes as he blinked. We weren’t the only ones in that tiny space. All the unknowns wedged their way between us—my mom’s cancer and Lila’s recovery.

The voice.

Weeks without making love.

Days of going through the motions to keep our family functioning.

We were merely existing, until that day. Hope peeked its head over our horizon. She wasn’t blindingly bright quite yet, but that didn’t stop us from feeling her warmth.