She watched him nod and retreat to clean up, then turned her attention to the task at hand. Her hands moved deftly, more confident than she would admit, as she prepared a dish she remembered from her time at the mansion in Beckham—baked chicken with herbs and a side of roasted vegetables.
Brenda glanced out the window. Her heart felt light, almost giddy, with the knowledge that this was her life now. She wasn’t just the orphan girl from Massachusetts. She was a woman who found joy in the company of a man who valued her more than she’d ever expected.
“Supper’s ready,” she called out, setting the table.
Seth entered the room, clean and looking refreshed, his hair still damp at the edges. He took a seat, eyeing the food with approval. “Smells wonderful, Brenda.”
“Hope it tastes as good as it smells,” she said, serving him a generous portion.
Brenda watched Seth trace the tines of his fork through the herbs sprinkled atop the chicken. His eyes lifted, met hers, and he chuckled.
“Never thought I’d be so grateful for a meal that didn’t come from a can.”
They ate, each bite savored, each moment stretching out comfortably between them. The roasted vegetables were tender, the chicken seasoned just right, and the silence was filled with the kind of warmth that only shared satisfaction could bring. Their bond, once tentative and unsure, now felt as natural as the sun setting beyond the window.
“Thank you, Brenda. For this.” Seth gestured to the plates, the table, and the cozy room around them.
“Wasn’t anything,” she said.
“Means everything to me,” he said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. She squeezed back.
Later, as night draped itself over the ranch, they found themselves entwined beneath the sheets, moonlight spilling across the bed. Seth’s touch was gentle, his gaze steady—full of something that Brenda had dared not name until now.
After, as Seth lay beside her, breaths deep and even, Brenda lay awake. Her mind wandered, tracing the path of their short marriage, the laughter, and the growing closeness. Yet, there was a small, niggling worry at the back of her mind. Four months had passed, and she had no signs of expecting.
She should have been with child by now, shouldn’t she? Brenda turned to look at Seth, his features softened by sleep. A crease formed between her brows, but she smoothed it away with a sigh. No, she wouldn’t burden him with her worries—not yet.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
