Chapter Twenty

SYDNEY

One Month Later

I was standing at the kitchen island crushing up Doritos in a Ziploc bag while humming along to “Suspicious Minds” as it played through my one earbud, my other ear going without the soothing voice of the King since I didn’t want to risk missing the timer on the oven and burning my Mexican Chicken Bake, another new recipe I was trying out for Sunday family dinner.

This would be our fourth one. Meaning this was the fourth new recipe I was experimenting with and testing out on our friends.

It was a risk not sticking to the familiar since I was feeding such a large group, but it was paying off. The past three recipes had all been highly praised and devoured by everyone, meaning the number of recipes I was now comfortable making had doubled since moving to Dogwood.

I had high hopes for the Mexican Chicken Bake.

Not only because of my track record but also because of the delicious aroma coming from the oven as the chicken was baking, and according to reviews, it was an excellent meal to cook ahead of time and warm in the oven when you were ready to consume it.

That was why I chose it for today and why I was cooking it four hours before everyone was due to come over.

Brian and I had plans this afternoon. Important plans. Plans I wouldn’t miss for the world or take any time away from because I had to get home and make a meal.

For the first time in five months, my boy was getting back out on the water.

This was huge.

Huge.

And I was overwhelmed with joy because of it, so much so I’d cried last night when he announced what we were doing today and I’d cried twice already this morning just thinking about our plans.

Last night was unexpected. He’d caught me completely off guard.

We were lying in bed with Sir between us, talking about nothing and everything like we always did, when Brian blindsided me.

He’d been thinking about surfing a lot, mainly because I kept bringing it up hoping it would spark discussion, which never seemed to happen. He’d change the subject or distract me with his mouth pressing to my skin and I’d forget all about it. But it got him to thinking he might be ready to give it a go again, but under one condition.

He needed me there. Me. No one else.

Today was going to be one of those days I’d never forget as long as I lived.

I could not wait.

Setting the one Ziploc bag aside after getting all the chips crushed to the consistency I needed them in, I filled another Ziploc bag with Doritos, sealed it good, flattened it on the counter in front of me, and took my rolling pin over it, breaking apart all the chips.

The song in my ear ended and “Can’t Help Falling in Love” started playing.

I smiled. I loved this song.

Like loved this song, so much so I wanted it to be what Marcus and I shared our first dance to at our wedding.

It wasn’t. We danced to some overplayed top forty hit instead.

Once Marcus shot down my choice saying he wouldn’t dance with me to some old-ass shit his mother probably got down to back in her day, I didn’t really care what we danced to. I just picked something slow I’d heard a hundred different times on the radio, figuring his mother probably didn’t listen to that station and I’d be in the clear of her ever getting down to it.

Looking back, I should’ve told him to shove it and danced by myself to the song I wanted. I never should’ve compromised on that.

Marcus wasn’t worth it.

Getting lost in the lyrics like I always did, swaying my hips slowly and closing my eyes through the chorus, I didn’t see or hear Brian move into the kitchen or step up behind me, only becoming aware of his presence when he snaked his arm around my waist and kissed my neck.

I sucked in as my eyes flashed open, let go of the rolling pin, and squeezed his arm that was holding me.

“You scared me,” I said, sounding a little breathless, then tipped my head to the side and dropped it back, leaning into him.

He brushed my hair behind my shoulder and took the earbud out of my ear.

“What are you listening to?”

I spun around and watched him bring the earbud up to his ear, hold it there, and listen for few seconds while keeping his eyes on me. His mouth tipped up in the corner.

“Should’ve guessed.” He handed the earbud back, doing so while looking amused.

This wasn’t the first time Brian had caught me getting lost in the King. Wouldn’t be the last either.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket, stopped the song, unplugged my headphones, and set everything on the island behind me.

“Smells good in here, babe,” Brian said, turning his head as if he was sniffing the air.

“Thanks.”

He stepped forward and reached around me. I heard chips crunching.

“What’s with the Doritos?”

“Ah.” I slid over so I wasn’t standing between him and the island anymore, picked up the other bag of Doritos I’d pulverized, and held it up, looking at it and explaining, “It’s the topping for the Mexican Chicken Bake. When the timer goes off, I’ll sprinkle these on top then bake it for another ten. It adds a tasty crunch. Plus, it’s totally kid friendly.” I moved my eyes to Brian. “The twins like Doritos, right?”

He shrugged. “They’re kids. Pretty sure they like all chips.”

I nodded, replying, “That’s what I was thinking.”

We both dropped our bags of Doritos onto the island.

“Is your sister still bringing dessert?”

“Last I heard.”

“Good. Only thing we have is popsicles and that’s our thing.”

It totally was.

Brian had gotten us a house with a porch for the sole purpose of eating popsicles together on it. No other reason. It was totally our thing now.

“In terms of Jamie bringing something, I was thinking,” I began, watching Brian’s eyebrows lift in curiosity. “Maybe you could see if he wants to wear his shiny new medal to dinner. I’m sure everyone would love to see it. I know I would. I’ve never seen a World Pro Am Champion medal before.”

Brian stared at me.

“Babe.”

“Mm?”

“Love you.”

I smiled big.

“Love you, too.”

He didn’t smile back. He stood taller, stuck his hands in his pockets of his shorts, and looked at me carefully when he went on to say, “But maybe you need to ease off your girl a little.”

I stuck my hand on my hip and cocked it out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It means I think you’re trying to force something that’s not happening. She’s not feeling Jamie,” he replied.

“She’s feeling him,” I shot back. “She just doesn’t want to admit it yet. I’m only helping it along.”

“No, you’re not.”

I cocked my hip out farther.

“Excuse me?”

Brian looked at my cocked hip, then back into my eyes to say, “You’re not helping, Wild. Your girl is a push away from losing her shit during dinner. Look at what happened two weeks ago.”

I thought back to two weeks ago. That was the last meal we shared with both Tori and Jamie since Jamie was in Cali last weekend and didn’t get back until Tuesday. Nothing unusual was standing out about that dinner, and I told Brian that.