I wasn’t sure which I liked more.Heath made dinner in the kitchen, wearing only his sweatpants. He wasn’t afraid of the hot oil splashing onto his naked body, because he always seemed to put just the right amount into the pan.
His fair skin had returned to its natural color, with a few scars that were mostly hidden on his tattooed skin. I suspected the ink obscured most of his injuries, so it was misleading, but he was much better, nonetheless.
I pulled the plates out of the cabinet, wearing his shirt with my panties underneath. We returned to the quiet companionship we used to share, making dinner with little conversation, just comfortable being together.
He scooped the food out of the pan then added the veggies next.
“Looks good.”
“Talking about me or the food?” he teased.
“Both.”
We sat at the dining table and each had a glass of wine. Now that he was off his medication, he could enjoy alcohol again, but he seemed to have gotten used to living without it because he didn’t drink as much as he used to.
I watched him as I stabbed my fork into my food and took a bite. “Thank you for dinner.” He always cooked for me when I stayed over, making a gourmet meal with his expensive pans and fancy cooking oil.
“Don’t thank me,” he said as he kept eating. “What’s mine is yours.”
“I do have one complaint…”
He lifted his gaze, his expression hard at my words.
“Maybe have some sweets once in a while…”
A soft smile sprinkled his lips. “I’m surprised you would ask that.”
“Once in a while isn’t going to hurt.”
He continued to eat. “I’m glad your attitude about food has changed.”
“I do eat more with you. But I also jog now, to keep it off.”
“When?”
“Before I take a shower. I’m not big on exercise, but I force myself to do it.”
“You don’t need to,” he said. “But whatever makes you happy.”
I was glad I had a man who didn’t care about my weight. Men I’d been with complimented my figure, but they wouldn’t encourage me to eat. Heath was such a big man that it didn’t matter what my size was, he would always be the bigger one of the two of us. Gave me some wiggle room. “I asked Anna to talk to Damien, but she said no.” I didn’t want to mention my brother to him, but he was on my mind a lot, and I felt uncomfortable hiding it from Heath. We were honest with each other, speaking our minds. “She said she didn’t want to get in the middle of it.”
He didn’t show his annoyance at my statement. “It’s too soon anyway, baby. Just leave it alone.”
“Yeah, but Anna has a tight hold on him. If anyone could talk to him, it would be her.”
“Still too soon. Time and distance are what we need right now.”
“I guess I could ask her again some other time…”
“Baby, I told you I would fix it. Let me take care of it.” He lifted his chin and looked at me instead of his food.
When he gave me that expression, I knew to back off. “Alright.”
He went back to eating, either looking at his food or out the window behind me, quiet. His elbows were on the table, his broad shoulders blocking most of the view behind him. His cut arms showed the distinctions between his different muscles, something even his ink couldn’t hide.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he blurted out, choosing to be transparent. He’d lied to me before, but he seemed intent on proving he would never do it again.
“You said you were open to getting married…but not having children.”
He finished chewing his bite but didn’t take another. He set his fork down and looked at me boldly, not avoiding my gaze at the difficult subject.
“Do you still feel that way?” I pulled the glass of wine closer to me, my fingers resting on the rim.
He didn’t say anything.
“I know this is the beginning. We’ve barely had time to be together. But I won’t waste my time and go through this unless I know you’re willing. Because I have to have children. Nonnegotiable.” He didn’t seem like the fatherly type, with his profession and his sleeves of tattoos. He didn’t seem like the kind of man that would drop them off at school in the morning then take them to soccer practice. But I would love to have a son in his likeness, with those blue eyes and light brown hair.
He was still quiet.
Not a good sign.
“I’m not sure if I’d be a good father.” He held my gaze as he spoke, not directly answering the question, but at least responding to it.
“Because of what you do?”
“Among other reasons…”
“What other reasons?”
“I’m impatient. I’m authoritative. I’m selfish.”
“Authoritative is a good skill to have when raising kids. The other two, we’re all like that. Everyone has their reservations about being a parent. Hades didn’t seem like the father type to me, but he’s an amazing dad.”