“Nothing. It was my decision to stay last night. Don’t worry about it.”

“But you wouldn’t have done it if you’d thought you could leave.”

“I’ll survive.”

She went back to the table but was suddenly too nervous to eat her sandwich. She didn’t want to be a burden on him, didn’t want him to regret the kindness that had saddled him with an ex he’d rather not even see.

“How’s the book coming?”

“Not so good.”

He’d probably be getting more done if he didn’t have so many distractions—like taking in a woman and child who might’ve been homeless without him. “I’ll be careful not to interrupt you this afternoon.”

He didn’t say anything.

“While I have you here, what do you think of this for dinner?” She showed him a picture of bowtie pasta with prosciutto, onions and peas in a Parmesan cream sauce. “Does this look like an entrée you might like?”

His eyebrows slid up. “Definitely.”

“I’ll make that tonight, then.”

Having started the coffeemaker, he turned around to face her. “I was going to talk to you about tonight.”

The gravity in his voice put her on high alert. “You’d rather have something else?”

“No, that’s fine. Could you make enough for Eve, too?”

She managed to maintain her smile. “Of course. Is this a—a date? Would you like me to do something special?”

“You don’t have to go to too much trouble. Just add a bottle of wine, a salad and maybe some dessert.”

She’d already been planning to serve a salad and bread with the main meal. “I can do that. I’ll set it up in the dining room.”

“That’d be great.”

She pointed to the coffeemaker. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s ready, if that’ll help.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He walked away but turned back at the last second. “Why’d you do it?” he asked. “Why’d you sleep with Skip?”

This was the first time he’d ever given her the opportunity to explain. But now that he had, she didn’t know where to begin. What did it matter, anyway? What could she hope to achieve? She could tell by his tone that, all these years later, he was still speaking out of condemnation and anger. And after the kindness Eve had shown her, Sophia wouldn’t interfere in their relationship even if she had the chance. “I made a mistake.”

“One you made worse by marrying him.”

It wasn’t easy to tolerate the accusation in his eyes, not without launching a few accusations of her own. She wasn’t the only one who’d been egocentric at that age. He’d been so preoccupied with all his projects and classes that he hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening—or not happening—in her world. He’d taken it for granted that when he finished setting the world on fire she’d be waiting for him in Whiskey Creek. “I was pregnant. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Your parents would’ve helped you. They did everything for you.”

Not after he went to college. And especially not in that last year when he’d been so busy they’d barely talked. Once her mother could no longer hang on to reality, her father hadn’t been able to cope with the grief. He’d stepped down from his position as mayor and promptly fallen apart, and without any new money coming in, their savings had dwindled. They managed to get her mother into a facility where the state would pick up the bill, but almost as soon as they did that, her father received news of his own diagnosis. Although they’d been too proud to let anyone know the extent of their problems—it hurt to be humbled in one fell swoop—she couldn’t have afforded the chemo or anything else, not without Skip. “I panicked.”

“You mean Skip had the money you wanted.”

The money she’d desperately needed. There was a difference. And Skip was the father of her child. Was Ted saying he would’ve accepted Alexa? She couldn’t imagine that—couldn’t imagine him forgiving her for what she’d done. “If that’s how you want to look at it,” she said.

“There isn’t any other way,” he retorted.

* * *

When the doorbell sounded signifying Eve’s arrival, Ted wasn’t sure where Sophia was. She didn’t answer the door, so he assumed she’d left for the day. She was probably in the guesthouse, unpacking. The last time he’d seen her was when she’d slipped into his office, put a cup of coffee at his elbow, along with some sliced fruit, and slipped out.

It had been a quiet afternoon, which he’d needed to get some pages written. But as he passed the living room on his way to the door, he saw that she’d been busy. Every room in the house was immaculate. He could smell several delectable scents drifting from the kitchen, and she’d set a beautiful table. He paused when he saw it because he didn’t recognize the pretty crystal vase that served as a centerpiece or the fresh flowers inside it. Neither had he ever seen the matching candleholders. And he knew for a fact that he didn’t own those elegant dinner candles.

She’d gone to extra trouble to make this romantic—but he wasn’t sure that made him happy. He had such mixed reactions when it came to her.

The doorbell sounded again.

“Coming,” he called.

As soon as he opened the door, Eve gestured toward Sophia’s black Mercedes. “Looks like your houseguest will be spending her first night here.”

He wondered how things had gone for Alexa at school today. When Sophia picked her up, she must’ve had her go straight to the guesthouse to do her homework because he hadn’t seen or heard her at all. “I can only hope that’ll make it harder for the repo company to find her car.”

“Right. Or she’ll be using your car as well as enjoying everything else you have to offer.”

He didn’t say anything. He hadn’t asked for Sophia to land in his lap—at least not in a long time. But there hadn’t been any way to avoid helping her, not if he wanted to maintain his humanity. “Believe me, my mother isn’t any happier about the situation than you are. She hung up on me the day she learned Sophia was working here, and I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Aren’t you going to call her?”

“I’m giving her some time to cool off.” He held the door. “Come on in.”

“Your mother’s never liked Sophia,” she said as she passed him.

“My mother likes you,” he told her.

Her lips curved in a grudging smile. “That’s an accomplishment. She’s not easy to please.”

“That’s an understatement.” He chuckled. “Are you hungry? I requested pasta.”

“Smells delicious.” She drew him to her for a kiss. He purposely deepened it, searching for that same fire in his belly he’d always felt for Sophia, wanted it to consume him to the point that he had to carry her up to his bedroom right this second, dinner be damned. But it wasn’t there. He felt the same respect and affection he’d always felt—that was all.

Pulling away, he smiled to conceal his disappointment. “Come see what we’ve got,” he said and took her hand as he led her to the kitchen.

On the counter, he found a note from Sophia.


Pasta is in the oven. Don’t wait too long to serve it, or it will dry out. Warm the bread for 15 minutes first. Wine is chilling in the fridge with the salad. Homemade vinaigrette is in the small pitcher. The cheesecake can be served with or without berries on top.

S

P.S. Matches on table


For the candles. To add to the romantic atmosphere. He got that.

“She’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it nice.” Eve sounded slightly petulant, but she was the one who’d asked to come here. They could just as easily have had dinner out or at her place. Ted was fairly certain she’d wanted to scope out the situation, to stake her claim—not that he could blame her.

He was carrying the salad and wine into the dining room when the doorbell rang for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll get it,” Eve said and before he could return to the kitchen for the bread, his mother walked into the room.

* * *

Sophia had brought some of what she’d cooked home so she could have dinner with Alexa in the guesthouse. They’d eaten together. Now they were lying on her bed, staring at the shadows the lamp cast on the ceiling. They still had unpacking to do, but this quiet moment was the best she’d had all day. Alexa never used to rest her head on Sophia’s shoulder when Skip was alive, not since she’d been a very small child.

“That was such a good dinner,” Alexa said.

“I liked it, too,” Sophia responded.

“I bet Ted thinks you’re the best cook in the world. I bet he’s glad he hired you.”

Had Ted and Eve enjoyed it? They’d been in the back of her mind ever since she’d left the main house. But she refused to succumb to the jealousy that slithered beneath her skin. She’d spent her own money at the grocery store for the flowers and candles because she’d wanted, in her own small way, to thank them for all they’d done. She wanted Ted to be happy and knew a woman like Eve could do that for him.

So she had nothing to feel sad about, she told herself. She wanted Eve to be happy, too. Maybe she couldn’t have the relationship she wanted—with either one of them—but she wished them well in spite of that and owed them both for their kindness.

“How come you’ve never made those noodles before?” Alexa asked, breaking the silence again.

“You mean the pasta? I didn’t have that recipe.”

“Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.” She combed her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Do you think you’ll like living here?”

“It’ll be different, but...it’s okay. What about you?”