He took a long drink of wine. This conversation wasn’t a light one, and he felt as if he needed fortification. “I can’t say it feels good to me, really,” he said honestly. “I mean, I’m trying to not be angry anymore. And I understand a lot. But it’s been painful, Delly. I’m not going to pretend it hasn’t.”
Her face softened. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Would you change the past if you could?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t. We can just deal with the present. And right now my present says I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore, and it’s also saying that in an hour I’m going to be starving, so we should get started on this.”
She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He got it; they’d pretty much beaten the subject to death over the last few days. That he had lingering feelings about it was natural, he supposed. Not wanting to retread the same conversation ad nauseam was also natural.
As the meat was defrosting, Adele gave him potatoes to peel, while she mixed up some sort of sauce. Before long, the potatoes were on the stove and the medallions were waiting for the cast-iron pan to heat. Together they built a salad, and then Adele mixed ingredients for a vinaigrette in a bottle.
“Ever
ything from scratch,” he remarked.
“Not always, but I do like to cook. And it’s nice to cook for someone else, too, and not just me.” She grinned. “I’ve gotten quite good at working with oils and herbs and vegetable combinations. Harper’s a vegetarian and comes by usually once a week for dinner.”
“The photographer, right?” He remembered her. She had laughing eyes and a bright smile.
She nodded. “Harper’s my best friend, really. We met through the business, when I was looking for a local photographer for a wedding. We hit it off and I recommend her quite often now, unless clients have a preference already in mind. She’s one of the sweetest, most giving people I know.”
He topped up his wine, and hers, too. “That’s nice. It’s how I feel about Pete, you know?”
“Except you also have brothers and sisters that you’re close to. I don’t.”
He wondered if she ever spoke to her mother, but didn’t want to ask. Her upbringing had always been a bit of a sore spot. Her dad had abandoned her mom before Adele was born, and her mom had worked her fingers to the bone to provide for the two of them. As a result, Adele had been on her own a lot as a kid. On her own and lonely.
“True,” he said easily, watching her place the medallions in the pan. The hot sizzle of the meat made his stomach growl.
She seared each side and then added sliced mushrooms. She moved around the kitchen with efficiency and confidence. After draining the potatoes, she put the balsamic glaze she’d mixed up into the pan, and while it began to reduce, she whipped the potatoes and piped them through a bag onto a baking sheet. “You’re getting fancy on me,” he said, intrigued.
“I love Duchess potatoes,” she admitted, sliding the pan into the oven. “Crispy on the outside, but creamy and delicious on the inside. It won’t be long now.”
She got out plates and cutlery and handed them to him, along with a couple of placemats. “You can set the table.”
“Yes, boss.” He gave a mock salute and grinned. She’d always had confidence, but now it was different. It was backed up by a self-assurance, a maturity he liked. A lot. She’d been the same way at the wedding, even when things had gone wrong. As if she’d handled tough days before and knew she could do so again.
When they sat down to eat, Dan knew he couldn’t have found a better meal anywhere in town. Two perfect spirals of potatoes were on his plate, along with rich glazed medallions and the colorful salad. It smelled amazing.
“Thank you for this,” he said, raising his glass. “To a good day. No, scratch that. A great day.”
“Except for me falling on my face,” she added drily, but touched the rim of her glass to his anyway.
He laughed. “Well, yes. Except for that. How’re you feeling?”
She shrugged and took a bite of potato. “Oh, more embarrassed than anything.”
“You would have felt worse if you’d plowed over that girl,” he remarked. He cut into the beef. Cooked perfectly, with a lovely stripe of pink in the middle. The first bite was heaven.
“This is amazing.”
“Thank you.” She blushed a little, he noticed, and then she looked down at her plate.
“I mean it, Delly. This is delicious. And so much better than eating alone at the hotel.”
She looked up at him. “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned being alone. Are you lonely, Dan?”
He tried not to choke, and swallowed a piece of beef that was perhaps a little too big. He reached for his glass and took a hearty drink of wine. He then looked up at her. She was waiting for him to answer, her empty fork poised in midair.