She seems mollified.
Nate looks back at me, amused, but then he frowns. “I had another question I was going to ask you.” He searches my face, like he might find it there.
My cheeks heat up under that gaze. “I figured you did.”
His eyes glint; he knows I remember. “I might have to review the footage. Unless you want to remind me.”
“It may have been something about some future dream of mine.”
He grins. “Ah, yes.Tell me about your dreams, Becca.”
My dreams.This is an easy one—now, at least. “I’d love to open a restaurant one day. I’ve always loved to cook, and the thought of doing it professionally, having my own place . . . It would just be so incredible.”
“Nice. What type of restaurant would it be?”
“So what I’d love is,” I start, then see him give a pointed eyebrow-raise. I rephrase. “The type of restaurant I’d love to open,” I begin again, and he gives me a thumbs up, “is one where I’d serve comfort food, but with a new twist. Adding unique spices and flavors to something like homemade mac and cheese, you know? Something complimentary, of course, but that makes it feel like your favorite childhood dish made even better. And I know this sounds cliché, but I’d love the restaurant itself to feel truly cozy. Like you’re in your family’s living room, just casually eating together. Comfy chairs, maybe even couches, but still with surfaces that make it easy to eat on and—” Now I cut myself off, not because I’m nervously babbling, but because I’m getting so happily caught up in the vision, I really think I could go on for another hour. “That kind of thing.”
Nate’s watching me intently. I feel my palms sweat. Maybe I did go on too long, but he asked, after all, and it’s my dream, so wouldn’t you expect—?
He blinks and clears his throat. “That sounds amazing.” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers under his chin. “What would it mean for you to have someone to share it with?” He’s got a kind of smug look where he’s aware that I know he’s leading me to all the cheesy romance stuff they want, and I give him a similar look right back—I’m not just going to give it up to him.
Um.
“I do have someone to share it with,” I say, trying to pushthatthought right the hell away. “I’ve got my girls.”
Another rapping sound. “Mom, that is not what he meant!”Thea signs, and Kristin translates, though not sounding nearly as annoyed asThea obviously feels.
“Thank you,Thea,” Nate says. He bites his lower lip around a teasing smile as he turns back to me. “Go on, Becca.”
Rosie has given up paying attention to all of this. She’s climbed off the chair and is twirling around in the space between the living room and the kitchen.Thea, on the other hand, is watching closely. She’s not going to let me get away with talking around things.
“Fine,” I say. “It would mean a lot to have someone to share this with.” I perhaps overemphasize the restating of the question, and am happy to see that Nate seems more amused than irritated. But even just saying the words tugs at my gut. “It would be really nice to have someone alongside me for all of it,” I continue, feeling it more deeply than I’d like to admit. “I don’t need someone who loves to cook or anything—I actually like doing my own thing. But to have someone to support me, to want this for me as badly as I do, just because he loves me . . .”
I find myself blinking rapidly, looking away, my chest feeling hollow.
I do want that. And if going on a dating show isn’t going to be the way that I find it, maybe it could at least help mebelievein it again.
I’m just not sure that it’s a good idea to let myself want that, even if Cece and my in-laws and my daughters disagree.Then again, all of them believe I’ve had a relationship like that before.
Nate pauses, studying me.Then he sits back, his expression unreadable. But still somehow soft, gentle.
“So, tell me about your late husband,” he says.
“Sure.”This should be the easy part. I’m used to being very careful about how I tell this story.
It does seem different now, though, with the camera on me and Nate just to the side, taking everything in. My heartbeat feels unsteady.
“My husband Rob was in the army. He enlisted a couple years out of high school. We were married when we were twenty and hadThea soon after. He passed away on active duty overseas. His convoy was attacked.” I let out a breath. I may be used to telling this story, but I still have a hard time letting myself picture it. “He was a really great dad. He loved the girls so much.They miss him. We all do.”
I stop now, not willing to say any more.There’s so much I never can. No one wants to hear that the military hero and great dad wasn’t an equally great husband. And I can’t bring myself to tarnish him in the eyes of his parents and daughters.
Nate nods, looking sympathetic. “How do you feel about falling in love again?”
I glance over toThea, who gives me an expectant look. Maybe I should give the canned answer: I’m excited. I can’t wait to start the journey. I know my prince is out there.
I look back at Nate. “Scared,” I say, swallowing through that too-dry throat. “I said I wanted to get better at putting myself out there, and I do. But . . . it’s scary. Risking the loss again.”
My hands are gripping my knees too tightly, and I wonder how well he can read what I actually mean.That what really scares me is the thought of losing myself all over again, when I feel like I’ve just barely started to figure out who that is.
