Breathing hard, he blinked several times. “Mags?”
She turned, her face set. “Cash.”
Okay, she was ticked. “What’s going on?”
She slammed the pan down. “I’m cooking in my kitchen.”
“I see that.” He advanced slowly, his arms out to the sides.
She continued, tossing things around as she spoke. “We didn’t sign a prenup—so according to Mr. Goodall, half this house is mine, and I’m taking this half.” She made a motion with her arms as if cutting the house in half from north to south.
Cash paused, the info like a lighthouse beckoning him to come safely to shore. “Is that right?” He squinted.
“Yep.”
“Fine. I want the master bedroom.”
She whipped around, glaring at him. “I grouted that tile myself.”
“I installed the appliances,” he countered, taking a step closer.
She snorted. “Fine. I want the cupboard under the stairs.”
He stepped again. “Okay. I want the family room.”
“Study.”
“Library.” Step.
“Billiard room.” She glared.
“There isn’t a billiard room.” Step. He was almost close enough to touch her.
“I’ll make one, and you’re not invited in.”
He steeled himself for rejection. “Not even if I invite you into my bedroom?”
She gasped. “Cash!” She smacked his arm. “Don’t even joke about that.” Her resolve crumbled and she fell into his arms, sobbing against his chest even as she pounded on it. “You’d be lucky if I ever talk to you again, you big jerk.”
“I know.” He stroked her hair, thankful for the silky feeling against his palm. “I know.” He pushed her back, cupping her face. “I’m giving you my half of the house. I’ll sign the papers right now. It’s yours.”
“I don’t want your dumb house.” She smacked his arm, hard.
He let go of her face and rubbed his arm. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not about the house! It never was. Not for me.” She sniffed, wiping her nose with her apron, then yanking it off and wadding it up.
“Mags!” He darted around her, afraid she run out right then. “I was trying to tell you that it’s not about the house for me either—it’s not worth a thing if you’re not here burning things in the oven and staining the porch boards.”
“One time.” She held up a finger. “I only burnt cookies once.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed her finger. “Burn them all; I don’t care. I just want to be here to clear the smoke with you. I miss you, Maggie. I miss you, and I love you, and I want you forever.”
Her lip trembled. “Don’t. Cash, I can’t take any more empty promises.”
He set his jaw. “That was all a mess. We mixed up marriage with the house and deadlines and your book and all sorts of things that shouldn’t have been a part of this.” He touched her ring. “With this ring, I promised to love you forever. That’s one promise I haven’t broken.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and he swiped it away. “I’ve always loved you—even when I told myself not to.”
“Me too.”
