Even if she hasn’t said it, I know it. I feel it. I see it in the way she looks at me and the way she cares for me.
It’s going to be okay.I pull her tighter and smile.It’s finally going to be okay.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Mira
“We ate it and didn’t die,” I say, sitting back in my kitchen chair.
Hartley nods appreciatively from across the table. “We ate it,enjoyed it, and didn’t die. You missed a step.”
“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?”
He chuckles at my lashes fluttering before he takes a drink of his tea.
The remnants of our meal are on the table between us. I wasn’t brave enough to try frying chicken breasts, Hartley’s favorite, so I bought some thin tenders and made them in the air fryer with a little help from Cathy. They might’ve been a little dry, but we didn’t get salmonella. I probably overbuttered the mashed potatoes, if that’s possible, and made green beans from Cathy’s canned green beans last summer.
I only burned myself once.
“You know, it’s surprising that you purport not knowing how to cook, considering it’s Lolly’s favorite pastime and her food is incredible,” Hartley says.
“That’s easy. She threw me out of the kitchen, so I’d stop being a pest.” I wink. “I know that’s hard to believe. And I think she made my mom learn to cook, clean—all those domestic-y type of things—and then she lost her. I have to wonder if a part of her wishes she’d let her play instead of cleaning every Saturday morning.”
Hartley takes a deep breath, his features sobering. “That might be true. Because I know that I spent quite a few days, and still do, sometimes, wishing that I would’ve helped Dad a little more and learned a few tricks of the trade while he was still here rather than goofing off.”
My heart stills as I watch him go down a memory lane that I don’t know exactly, but still understand. The lane I frequent has a lot of parallels to his. Given that he runs a ranch, is an upstanding part of this community, and has many great friends, it’s clear that he navigated his better.
“Think we have any margarine containers left to save the leftovers?” I ask.
“I’m sure we do somewhere. Cathy hasn’t tossed a sturdy container since the nineties.”
We rise and clear the table. Hartley packs away the food, and I load the dishwasher. Working shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen with the moonlight streaming through the windows is a level of peace that I didn’t know existed.
I’d like to think that this means our paths are opening to the same forest, and we can travel a new one together—especially because I believe Hartley’s already there waiting on me. And, right now, in this easygoing, relaxed—deliriously happy—space, I want to run into his arms and take the first permanent step toward forever, but something holds me back.
“It’s still odd having so many dishes,” I say, starting the wash cycle. “And towels. And candles. And blankets.”
My apartment in Kentucky was packed up in seven boxes—two of which were books. I felt like I had everything that I needed there, but looking back, I don’t know how that was true.
Life here is so full in ways that I couldn’t have predicted. Each day is filled with people dropping by, texts coming in about things besides work, and lunches with friends. And each night I sleep next to a man who has my heart in the palm of his hand.
How did my life before seem happy? Or was I just that determined not to believe it could be better than it was?
“Can I ask you something?” Hartley asks as he scoops our nightly bowls of ice cream. We’ll take them into the living room, pull a blanket over our laps, and watch our favorite show together.
“Sure.”
He scoops slower. “I know you had a job before we got married. But did you choose to live such a pared-down life, or was it more a necessity from a financial standpoint?” He glances at me. “Just curious.”
I move around the room, each step helping me think.
My breath quickens as I wonder where to begin because the answer isn’t as simple as Hartley thinks. Or maybe he knows it’s not simple. I don’t know.
I slide my hands into my pockets to keep Hartley from seeing them tremble, because I’veneverdiscussed this out loud with anyone, and I don’t want to do it now. But if we’re going to move forward the way I want us to, he deserves my honesty.
Tears fill my eyes.This shouldn’t be so hard.I’ve avoided this topic for so long and wasn’t prepared to address it tonight. But there’s a push deep inside my body that urges me to get it all out.
