“Why? Tristan said that men need women to cook and clean.”
The relief flooding my veins is palpable. “I cook and clean.”
She makes a face that suggests she thinks my statement is cute. “Not like moms.”
I glance around the kitchen. Sure, you can’t lick frosting off the counter, but my brother keeps his house in much worse shape. “Nanny Faye helps.”
“But if you had a wife,shecould do it.”
I take Jane’s hand and lead her to the sofa, guiding her to sit. I sit on the coffee table in front of her. “Jane, that’s sexist.” I say softly.
She gives me a look that suggests she thinks I’m a moron. “Duh, and if that’s what it takes to get a man, I don’t want one, but there are lots of women whodo.”
“If your mom was alive, I wouldn’t expect her to clean and cook. In fact, she hated cooking,” I say with a warm smile. “She kept things tidier than I do, but not by much.” I take her hand between both of mine. “She much preferred working in the brewery. She loved it. Owning Ziggy’s was her dream.” Memories of the joy in Millie’s eyes fill my head, and I swallow another lump. “The customers adored her.” I chuckle. “She was much better with them than I am.”
“But everyone loves you,” she protests.
“Maybe so, but your momma…she was the perfect hostess. Did you know she dreamed about running a tavern ever since we were in high school?”
“Really?”
“Yep. But your grandparents were horrified and insisted she go to college.”
“She didn’t want to go to college?”
I draw in a deep breath as more memories come flooding back. “You know, I think part of her did, but she really didn’t like your grandparents. She went to her first semester at Vanderbilt in Tennessee, but her heart wasn’t in it, and I admit that I was a distraction.”
Millie had skipped too many classes, and I’d gone to Nashville too often for her to find her place at school, but Jane is too young for me to tell her any of that. “The thing is, your grandparents didn’t understand Millie, and she resented them for wanting her to be more like your aunts. She wanted to make her own decisions. So she dropped out and moved in with me, and we started working multiple jobs so we could save enough money to open the brewery when we were twenty-one.”
“And you got married,” she says.
“That’s right. We got married when we were twenty. A lot of people thought we were too young, but we loved each other, and we didn’t give a shit what other people thought.”
“And Nana and Papa were mad?”
“Furious. They hated me for ruining their daughter’s life, but she was happy. For the first time, she was doing what she wanted. Not what anyone else wanted.”
“What about what you wanted?” she asks, her brow furrowed with worry.
Love fills my chest. How did I get so lucky to be gifted with this kid? “I loved your momma so much. I wanted whatever she wanted. Being with her was the second-best gift I’ve ever been given in my life, and I cherished every minute. I swore I’d do anything to see her happy, and I’m blessed to say that she was happy about 90% of the time we were together.”
She casts her gaze on our joined hands. “Until she died.”
“Until she died.” I pause. “She only loved you for seven months, but she loved you so hard, Jane.” My throat burns. “She loved us both.”
We’re both quiet for several moments before she looks up at me, her eyes shiny. “What was your best gift?” she asks. “You said she was second best.”
I lift a hand to her face and cup her cheek. “You, Jane. You’re my greatest gift. My best blessing. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. And if I ever lost you…” My words are tight with fear.
She pulls away and looks up at me, tears trailing down her face. “If you were married, then there’d be someone to cook and clean and take care of me when you’re working at night.”
Realization hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. “Who’s been telling you that?”
“Betsy says you’d also be happier if you had someone taking care of you, so maybe you should get a girlfriend forthatreason.”
For some bizarre reason, an image of Holly flashes through my mind, and I tell myself that it would never work. We’re like gasoline and a match.
But it also makes me wonder what’s going through her head. With as much time as she’s been spending with the Labelles, I can’t help worrying that she’s making sure I won’t be alone if she decides she’d rather live with them.
