Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Serena
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me when I finally came back downstairs.
West on the couch in the great room, Joey asleep against his chest and Lindy nestled against his side.
Even now, hours later, I can still see it in my mind’s eye.
And remember exactly what it did to my insides to see West cuddling my son.
My heart nearly burst with joy and longing, in a way I never imagined.
It’s been hours but I’m still thinking about it.
Even as I tend to the meat in the oven.
As I meet West’s coach and his husband, along with Jayne’s boss.
As we drink wine and nibble appetizers.
West hired a babysitter for the evening, who’s in the den with the kids, keeping them entertained so us adults can relax.
He really is the most thoughtful guy ever.
“You okay?” he asks, brushing past me with a smile.
“Just thinking about dinner.”
He grins. “It’s going to be epic, no matter whose is better.”
“It is.” I smile back at him, my mind still going back to the image of him holding Joey and Lindy.
Giving them both what they needed after a relatively minor accident.
Joey’s fine, running around like nothing happened, and Lindy seems to be over her guilt.
They were playing together like normal just before our guests began to arrive.
Meanwhile, the house is full of people. Fun, smart, interesting people.
Kelly apparently speaks Russian, so she and Vik are having an animated conversation by the fireplace in the great room.
Jamie and Viggo are both handsome and rugged, and Viggo’s telling hockey stories to Jayne, Bodi, and Simon.
Felix and Jamie are having what appears to be a casual conversation about tonight’s menu and I’m momentarily a little lost.
“Hey.” As always, West senses that I need him and he’s right here, hand at the small of my back. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Just not sure how I fit in.”
“You fit in with me.” His eyes meet mine and a moment of clarity passes between us. The acknowledgment of something happening that isn’t going to stop just because we use words like “casual” or phrases like “one day at a time.” We’re steamrolling into serious, despite protesting all the way.
“You make my heart happy,” I whisper.
He smiles and kisses the top of my head.
Then a timer goes off and we both hurry into the kitchen.
It smells like heaven in here, and I sigh happily as I pull the osso bucco out of the oven.
West makes his the traditional way, on the stove, but I do something different.
It’s a technique I perfected in culinary school.
Everyone I’ve ever made it for has loved it, and the dish always turns out perfectly.
I’m nervous now, though. Obviously, the stakes aren’t that high, but I can’t help but worry that I’ll be embarrassed if West wins.
Which is ridiculous. He’s also a great cook, so there shouldn’t be any reason to be embarrassed.
Except these are his friends and teammates.
Technically, Jamie is his boss. Will he be embarrassed if I win?
I whirl, suddenly panicked.
“West, what happens if mine is better?”
His eyes crinkle with amusement. “You get to plan a day of—”
“No, no.” I interrupt, waving a hand impatiently. “I mean, does it make you look bad?”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Jamie’s your boss…your teammates…” My voice trails because I’m not sure how to express my concerns.
“Wait—you think I’ll somehow be emasculated if your osso bucco is better than mine?”
“Emasculated, embarrassed, I don’t know, but if it might—”
“Angel.” He pulls me close, that soft, sweet smile I love so much playing on his lips.
“God, I love this about you—how you worry about me. Believe me, no one is going to be upset if I lose. Least of all me. That just gives me carte blanche to spoil you on a day when you can’t refuse to let me spend money. ”
I sigh in relief. “I just worried that maybe this would make you look…bad.”
“Nah. I don’t care who wins. If it makes you feel better, we can just tell them who made what and forget the competition.
Now I feel a little foolish. West is a grown man who makes millions of dollars. He doesn’t care about a little friendly cooking competition with his girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Am I his girlfriend?
I think I am.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t ever want to do anything that might embarrass you.”
“You won’t. Don’t give it another thought. Do you want to cancel the competition?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Everyone is looking forward to it.”
“Well, I think your timer went off and mine is about done as well.”
We share a sweet, private smile and then get to work serving up both dishes.
Dinner is fantastic, even if I do say so myself. West’s dish is absolutely delicious, something I would swear was made by a professional, and I take a second helping. That’s how good it is.
Mine is better, though.
I’m not being vain or petty—mine has just a little extra flavor, my secret ingredient—and cooking it in a pot in the oven makes it incredibly tender. And there’s no doubt everyone loves it.
“Okay,” Jayne says once everyone has dessert.
She lifts the box where everyone put their vote for the better osso bucco and starts marking a tally as she pulls out each piece of paper.
“It’s five to four,” Jayne announces with a smile. “But there are ten of us—which means someone didn’t vote.”
I feel my face heat since I didn’t want to vote for myself.
“You didn’t vote?” West slides an arm around my shoulder. “How come?”
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “It felt silly. Who’s ahead?”
Jayne smiles prettily. “Not telling. Serena’s vote could either tie it or give a clear winner.”
“I don’t want to be the deciding vote!” I say firmly.
“Too bad.” West hands me a piece of paper. “Do it.”
I look at him and then smirk.
I write his name on the paper, fold it and hand it to Jayne. “There.”
“Well.” She smiles mischievously. “We have a tie.”
Had I voted for myself, I would have won, so I’m glad I voted for him.
“You’re sweet,” West whispers against my ear.
“Let’s ask the kids,” Jayne suggests, grinning. “I mean, it could still be a tie, or they could both hate it, but it’ll be fun.”
I snort. “Joey likely won’t touch it.”
“He’ll take a bite,” Jayne says. “Watch.”
She disappears around the corner, and I take a bite of West’s chocolate mousse. He made chocolate mousse with a touch of raspberry. I made my aunt’s bourbon pecan pie and it’s a huge hit. In fact, there isn’t any left, which is why I’m eating the mousse.
“What is it?” Lindy asks as Jayne presents her with two dishes of meat.
“It’s called osso bucco. It’s fancy grown-up food, but I just want you to take a tiny bite of each and decide if you like one better than the other.”
“Okay.” Lindy shrugs and tries mine first. She cocks her head as she chews. “This one is yummy.” Then she tries West’s and makes a face. “I like the first one better.” Jayne grins. “Thank you. You want to try, buddy?”
He shrugs, eyeing the meat dubiously. “Is it yucky?”
“It’s good,” Lindy assures him.
He takes the first bite, mine, and wrinkles his nose. “Yuck.”
Everyone laughs.
Then he tries West’s and nods. “I like this one.”
“And we still have a tie,” Jayne laughs. “I’m out of tie-breaking ideas.”
“We don’t have to break the tie,” I say, leaning against West. “We were happy to cook for everyone and enjoy your company.”
“Exactly.” West nods, sliding his arm around my waist.
“I haven’t been this well-fed in a long time,” Viggo says. “So, I’m happy to come test out your recipes any time.”
“Same.” Jamie grins. “We’re both capable in the kitchen but not like this. Misty, our nanny in Vegas, used to do most of the cooking. She didn’t come with us, though, so now we’re trying to figure out how we’re going to survive. We can make the basics but that’s boring.”
“You should talk to Serena about doing some meal prep for you,” West says casually. “Things you can freeze and then pop in the oven or whatever. She’s really a great cook.”
My face feels hot again, but Jamie looks excited. “Is that a possibility? Because seriously, cooking is the one thing we’re not good at. And when we have the kids, it’s always pasta or something on the grill.”
“We, uh, certainly can discuss it,” I say.
“We’ll exchange numbers before we go,” Viggo says.
When West mentioned it before, I wasn’t sure it was feasible, but I feel a bubble of excitement building in my chest. Being able to supplement my income with my cooking would be the best possible scenario for a second job.
As always, I’m eternally grateful to West for making it happen.
I don’t know how I’ll ever pay him back for everything he’s brought to my life, but my gut tells me repayment isn’t necessary. It just isn’t who he is.
And once again, I’m completely swept up in him.
In this.
In us.