“Or,” Rowyn begins, stepping up to Jaxon and rubbing his back. “You find yourself a partner who loves to cook.” She smiles at him, tender and soft. “That’s what I did.” She casts me a glance. “How lucky am I?”
“We’re a team, babe,” Jaxon responds. “You excel at other things,” he says.
My chest lurches just a little, a pang of longing and wistfulness. “I think I’ve lost my appetite,” I tease, smirking at the way they look at each other.
They both laugh, and the sound warms the room, makes it feel like home. Home. Something I want but can never have.
“Oh please,” Rowyn says and gives me a little shove. “One of these days, Tuck.”
I just laugh it off and change the subject. “How’s the writing going?”
She gives me a sheepish look as she grabs big bowls from the cupboard. I take them from her and set them on the counter.
“Well,” she begins. “It’s going really good, actually.” She looks equal parts excited and nervous when she continues. “I joined a local writers group and I’ve actually submitted my work to an agent. Eek.”
“That’s fantastic, Rowyn.”
She laughs softly, then shifts her weight. “Do you…want to see it?” The words tumble out quickly. She shakes her head almost immediately. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s just an illustrated children’s book. Probably not your thing.”
Not my thing.
My stomach tightens. My God, how many nights did I sit cross-legged on the floor with Ben tucked against my chest, reading that damn caterpillar book for the hundredth time? He’d recite half of it from memory, giggling when I did the silly voices. There were nights I rushed home like my life depended on it just to make bedtime. Just to feel his small hands cup my cheeks and plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my face like I was the most important person in his universe.
My chest aches, the memory both sweet and unbearable.
“Tuck?” Rowyn’s hand lands gently on my arm.
I blink, drag myself back to the warm kitchen, the smell of garlic and parmesan in the air. “Of course I want to see it,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’d love to.”
She studies me for half a second, as if checking for sincerity. Then she nods. “Okay. Be right back.”
She disappears down the hall. A drawer slides open, then shut. I take a slow sip of my beer and start setting the table. Forks on the left, knives on the right. Something to do with my hands.
“You still making ornaments?” I ask Jaxon, watching him sprinkle more parmesan into the pan. Chef Ramsey would be proud.
“Hard at it all summer,” he says. “Trying to get ahead. Once the baby comes…”
“I can help with anything but a baby,” I joke, forcing a smirk. “I draw the line at diapers.”
That’s not entirely true. I know how to warm a bottle. I know how to rock a fussy kid until their breathing evens out. I know the exact pressure it takes to rub tiny circles on a back until sleep wins. But no one here knows that. No one needs to know that.
Jaxon laughs. “We’re hiring a nanny for when I’m on the road. Maeve knows a good agency.”
I nod. Rowyn will have the WAGs in her corner too. The built-in village. She won’t do this alone.
“Oh, how did you make out?” he asks casually.
“Make out?”
My brain betrays me instantly—Maria’s kitchen, our bodies close, hands touching, heat in her eyes.
“Tuck.”
I blink and find Jaxon staring at me, eyebrow raised.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my jaw. “What?”
“How did you make out getting the boys home?” he asks, pulling a spoon from the drawer and dipping it into the sauce. He tastes, nods to himself. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”
