“Or another daughter,” Fin said. “Neither will be you.”
“And that baby won’t know his or her father.” I wiped the moisture from my eyes with the back of my hand. “I don’t want to believe Bre. I want to prove she’s lying about the baby. I mean, how do we know she’s even really pregnant? She could just be after part of Dad’s estate.”
“She didn’t seem to know about the team.”
I shook my head. “There’s no way for her to know that his will says children and doesn’t specifically name me as owner.” I pushed away from Fin’s hold and again removed items from the shopping bags. “You know, the Irsay sisters all are co-owners in the Colts.”
“They aren’t co-owners with an infant.”
“Is this like some medieval royal thing?” I asked. “Would Bre be the baby’s queen regent?” I met Fin’s gaze. “I sound selfish, but I don’t want to be the Coopers’ co-owner.”
“I have no idea how any of this works.”
My attention went back to the ingredients. With all that was within me, I tried to concentrate on the wild mushroom sauce I planned to make. Instead of only mushrooms and shallots, this recipe had sautéed peppers, garlic, and parsley. Emma taught me how to make this sauce when we were in college.
Fin moved around the island and sat in one of the tall stools. With his elbow on the hard surface and his chin on his fist, he stared in my direction.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
His lips quirked in a lopsided grin. “I’m watching my woman make me dinner.”
“Your woman?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“Me man. You woman.”
“Very good. We’re going to work on more complex sentence structures once we get you housebroken.”
Fin’s laugh filled the air. “How about a glass of wine while I watch you make whatever you’re going to make?”
I sighed. “After today, I may drink the whole bottle.”
“I went to the store today. We have an ample supply.”
He stood and walked to the counter behind me, uncorked a bottle we’d opened the other night, and poured two glasses of cabernet. “Here.”
Turning, I took the stem of the glass he offered.
“To my woman.”
A grin spread across my face. “To my man.”
Our glasses clinked.
After a sip, I went back to cleaning the vegetables and letting them dry on a paper towel. In a sauté pan, I added butter and olive oil.
“You don’t need a recipe. I’m impressed.”
“Do you remember Emma?”
“Your roommate. Yeah, I remember her rule about living room sex.”
A scoff came out. “Good thing we don’t have her rule any longer. Anyway, when we moved in together, I was less than helpful in the kitchen. If I remember correctly, it seemed as if my nannies cooked when I was young. After Dad married Daphne, we had a cook. Her name was Gladys.”
“Did you like her?”
“I was in my not-liking-anyone stage. Half the time I wouldn’t go to the dining room for dinner. Gladys would bring my dinner to my room.” I shrugged. “She was okay. I didn’t hang around in the kitchen, and God knows, Daphne never cooked or baked. So poor Emma took on the chore of teaching me how to survive without a cafeteria.”
My vegetables were all cleaned and sliced. I scraped them into the sauté pan and filled a large stock pot with water. “This was one of our favorite meals we’d make. Back then, we also added chicken. I guess it’s one of those comfort foods.”
