Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Cole
A little past seven, Willa finally pulled in, her tires crunching on the gravel. She hadn’t been kidding about the long hours she worked.
At the window, I watched her climb out of her hatchback. If my former teammates could see me now, wearing an apron while prepping dinner for my wife, I’d never hear the end of it.
But I was strangely… content? Or something approaching that. After the meeting this morning, I’d been desperate to turn my brain off. Working with my hands, I’d learned since returning to Lovewell, was a great way to do it. So creating a delicious dinner became my goal.
I was not trying to impress Willa. Nope, not at all. And while I baked, I hadn’t daydreamed about her short shorts and flushed face while we did yoga together this morning.
She walked in looking weary, pausing inside the doorway. Her honey-blond hair was piled up on top of her head in a knot, and her shoulders were slumped.
“You made dinner?”
I pressed my lips together to contain my pride. A few months ago, I couldn’t boil water. And while I was still learning, I’d come a long way.
“Do you like lasagna?”
“Like?” she said, hanging her purse on one of the hooks by the door. “I love it.”
Delight lit up inside me. “Good. I made the sauce from scratch. No weird additives that way.”
Slowly, with wide eyes, she walked into the kitchen. “How?” she asked, scanning each surface. “Everything is still clean.”
“I cleaned up while it was baking.”
Her eyes bulged in response, and I couldn’t help but puff my chest up a little. Impressing Willa, I was discovering, was akin to scoring a hat trick.
She opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in. “And you got groceries?”
“Least I can do. I went to the health food store in Orono, then stopped at that huge CVS. I used the rest of your fancy shampoo this morning and wanted to replace it. Sorry about that. I picked up two bottles for you.”
She closed the refrigerator door slowly. Then she turned and slumped against it, blinking.
“You okay?”
She shook her head. “Yeah. After the long day I had, I think your thoughtfulness broke my brain.”
With pride rushing through me, and feeling a bit giddy, I flexed my bicep and winked at her. “One of the many benefits of being married to me. Now sit down and eat.”
“One minute.” She straightened and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Can you do that again? Flex while gesturing to the homemade lasagna?”
I cringed. I probably shouldn’t have even done it the first time. “That’s a strange request. Why?”
“Do it.”
Sighing, I hung my head. “Fine.” Despite my reticence, I obeyed, being sure to grin.
She snapped the photo, then, without a word, furiously typed on her phone.
“Uh…” I cleared my throat, worrying that I shouldn’t have been so flashy. “Can I ask what you’re doing with that?”
“Posting this to TikTok,” she said nonchalantly, still typing. “You’re gonna go viral. Is husband porn a hashtag?”
My heart dropped right to the floor. TikTok?
She looked up with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m kidding. I sent it to Lila and Magnolia. I wanted to show them what I came home to.”
Holding her gaze, I gave her a genuine smile. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, turning back to the lasagna. “You don’t have to go over the top to pretend to your friends.”
She strode over to me and stood so close the heat of her body soaked into me. “That has nothing to do with it,” she said, her tone sharp. “I’m still upset with Lila. She apologized, and I apologized, but she was dismissive and acted like there was no way in hell I’d marry you.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but we both knew Lila’s assumption was spot-on.
“And as your wife,” Willa went on, “I take offense.”
There was no denying the small fizzle of pride that swept through me when she declared herself my wife. There were no feelings between us, save for a budding friendship, but even so, it felt really good.
“You really don’t have to hold a grudge,” I said while I plated our dinner, feeling guilty about the rift despite how her words affected me. “I don’t want to come between you and your best friend.”
She inhaled deeply. “You’re not. We were due for a little dustup. Our lives have changed a lot lately, and friendships go through growing pains once in a while.”
I picked up our plates and nodded at the small table, gesturing for her to sit.
“For the last few years, I was in Baltimore,” she said, settling in a chair. “I was too busy to return texts, and she was stuck here, trying to put her life together. Now the roles are reversed. She’s living in Boston, and I’m the one who’s returned home. It’s normal that we need some time to adjust. The love I have for her is forever, even if she annoys me sometimes.”
I had few friends. It was one of the side effects of playing hyper-competitive sports my entire childhood. When I was home, I was focused on practice, and I traveled often. Tournaments in Canada, clinics in Minnesota, and showcases in Chicago. My teammates changed year after year, making it almost impossible to create solid friendships. The guys I played with were equally competitive and always trying to get an edge over one another.
Willa had no idea how lucky she was to have these long-term friendships. Her love of Lila made me even more determined not to screw this up for her.
I had picked up my fork when she took her first bite.
As she slid her own fork out of her mouth, she closed her eyes. “Mmm,” she groaned.
That simple word, the ecstasy on her face, was all it took to get me half hard.
“You made this?” Her tone was full of genuine awe. “Damn, it’s incredible.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Um. Yes it is,” she argued with a fierceness my simple meal didn’t warrant. “Today kicked my ass. I had half a stale protein bar for lunch. This is the best way to end the day.”
There was no stopping the smile that spread across my face. “Actually,” I said. “I know another excellent way to unwind after a tough day.”
She froze, and her eyes turned to saucers.
And I had gone and made things weird.
“N-no,” I stuttered, waving my fork. “Not that.”
She let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders lowering.
Okay, then. Sexual innuendo was not welcome in this marriage. Noted.
“I meant Jeopardy .”
She perked up at that. “You’re a fan?”
“Yup.” I nodded once. “Debbie got me into it. I watch every night.”
“I love Jeopardy .”
“Then get your plate and let’s do this.”
“Before and After? My favorite category.” She squealed.
Watching Jeopardy had become a soothing evening ritual for me. I enjoyed it, and I was happy when I could answer a question or two. But watching it with Willa? Hilarious.
She knew a shocking number of answers about random topics. Fine art? The civil war? I’d always known she was smart, but this was next level.
And the enthusiasm with which she shouted out answers and cheered for the contestants made my insides warm.
“I love the teen tournament,” I said. “I actually know more than an answer or two.”
“Same. And celebrity Jeopardy makes me feel like a genius.”
“I think you might actually be a genius,” I admitted. “You should be on the show.”
“I say that to myself every time I answer a two-hundred-dollar question about medicine, but it’s doubtful.”
“I get that. When there’s a sports category, I get all excited, thinking I’ll kill every question. But then they’re about the 1972 world series, and I’ve got no clue.”
She turned to me on the couch, bouncing with enthusiasm. “New rule. If we’re both home, we watch Jeopardy .”
My heart clenched. “Deal.”
“And we support all contestants, even the ones who finish in the red.”
“Yes. Especially the people who get overzealous in the daily doubles and then blow their leads.”
“Still can’t believe you’re a Jeopardy fan.”
I swallowed thickly, ignoring the pinch of pain that came with that comment. “I’m more than a dumb jock.”
“I know that,” she said, her tone nothing but serious, instantly bringing my mood back up. “ Jeopardy has this special place in my heart. During my internship, I used to record it and then watch at two a.m. when I got off shift at the hospital. I’d make ramen and then let Alex Trebek lull me to sleep.”
“I miss him.”
“We all do.”
After the show ended, we took our plates to the kitchen, where Willa insisted on finishing the dishes. “This was amazing. But you don’t have to make dinner for me all the time.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “I like it. Makes me feel useful. It was a weird day. There’s a lot going on at the Timber company, and I want to help, but there’s not a lot I can do.”
She put the last dish in the dishwasher, then turned toward me, drying her hands. “Wanna talk about it?”
Based on the concern in her eyes, it wasn’t a throwaway line. I had the feeling if I needed to unload, Willa would listen. But I didn’t want to relive all the drama of the last few years.
“Not really. Basically, yet another situation where my brothers have everything covered, and I’m the chump who doesn’t get it.”
She squeezed my forearm. “I’m sorry. And for the record, I think you have a lot to offer. If you just keep showing up, sooner or later, they’ll realize it too.”
I busied myself putting the leftovers in the fridge, ignoring how good those words made me feel. She was right. Showing up mattered. And although they may not want me there, I wouldn’t stop. I’d come and offer my support, no matter how insignificant it may be.
“I have practice tomorrow night,” I said after the kitchen was reset. “I made extra, so feel free to heat up the leftovers after work.”
“My hero.” She beamed up at me. “Also, my parents invited me over for dinner on Wednesday, so don’t worry about feeding me then.”
“I’m coming with you. You don’t have to face them alone.”
“It’s not like that,” she sighed. “I’m not going up against a firing squad.”
Head tilted, I eyed her. “We’re a team now, so I’ll be there. Tell me what kind of flowers your mom likes.”
“Tulips,” she replied without missing a beat. “And thank you.”
I closed the distance between us and covered her hand with mine. “I know this is not a traditional marriage,” I said, my eyes locked with hers, hoping she could sense my sincerity, “but I’m still gonna be a good husband. I probably won’t get it right most of the time, but I’ll try.”
She watched me intently, and in the moment of silence that followed, something passed between us. Trust, maybe? There was only one way for this marriage to be successful on our terms, and that was by going all in.
“Besides,” I said, pulling away and putting some distance between us—I needed to go to my room and stay there, because I was not comfortable with the warmth that had engulfed me when we were so close—I cleared my throat and pushed away the sensation. “I feel like this marriage is gonna work out. We’re gonna crush it.”
“Seriously?” She chuckled. “We’re one day in.”
“Yeah, but you’re cool, and I’m cool. Plus, we have Jeopardy in common. Some marriages start with even less.”