20. Harmony
CHAPTER 20
Harmony
M y eyes flicker open on their own, and the burning starts right away, along with the tiredness. They also feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. It takes me a split second to get my bearings, and it’s only because I feel the heat at my back. I turn my head to the side, seeing Brady with his back to me and feeling his hand reaching over on my hip. I look over and see that it’s just after 3:00 a.m. My body is used to getting up at three every day without fail. I move his hand softly, sliding out of bed before going to the bathroom. Washing my hands and tippy-toeing out of the room, I take one last look at him, a smile plastered on my face. My stomach flutters at the last look of him as I close the door softly behind me.
Turning and making my way to Wyatt, I see him sleeping on his side in the middle of the bed. I pull his door closed halfway before I tiptoe down the steps and head to the kitchen. Turning on the lights, I take a look around, finally going to the family room that is right off the kitchen. There is a built-in fireplace on the side and a huge TV hanging over it. Frames are scattered in the built-in, and I want to go see them all, but I don’t want to overstep. Two massive couches face each other on each side of the room, with two coffee tables, one facing each couch. The beautiful rug underneath them makes it more homey than stuffy. My head turns to look at the kitchen, finally taking it in in the light.
A big bay window has a table and chairs in front of it, but you can also see the comfy cushions on the bench right in front of the window. The island right off the breakfast nook is bigger in the light. It’s pristine white with gray-blue veins in it. The stools that are tucked in are brown and gold. I start to open the white cabinets with the gold hardware, getting out the things I need and trying not to make too much noise. I plug in the two mixers I made him carry over here, not knowing if he even had one, and from me going through his things, I see he actually doesn’t. I set up my mixer on the island, plugging it in, before heading over to the fridge that looks like it’s a cabinet and not a fridge. I take out all the ingredients I need before starting a pot of coffee.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sliding five lemon blueberry loaf cakes and a raspberry white chocolate cake in the oven before starting on the second batch of cakes. Sunday is always a big day for the bakery. After church, they usually get a slew of people picking up little goodies for after lunch. I take a sip of coffee as I start the next batch of apple cinnamon swirl cake. I’m peeling the apples, then dicing them up when I hear footsteps on the stairs. The smell of the cakes now fills the room, and the amount of peace I feel is crazy.
I look toward the hallway, where the feet are getting louder as the person comes closer. Brady stands there with his shorts on, his bare chest on full display, and now that I have the lights on, I take him in even more. My stomach flutters when I see how low on his hips the waistband is resting, knowing exactly what is under those shorts. I should avoid looking at him out of embarrassment after throwing myself at him last night, but I’m not. I’m sort of proud of myself. Not only did I push myself out of my comfort zone, I had two very nice orgasms that I didn’t have to give to myself. “Baby,” he mumbles. The sleep shows all over his face as he blinks his eyes to get used to the lights being on. His hair sticks up on the side from his head being on the pillow. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I want to be funny and say surgery.” I smile at him as I add the apples to the wet ingredients. “But I don’t think you’re in a joking mood.”
“It’s the middle of the night.” He takes a step into the room and spots the mess in his kitchen. “You could wait for, I don’t know, the afternoon to come and bake.”
“Actually, I can’t,” I tell him as I mix the sugar, butter, and eggs with the apples.
“Baby.” He walks to the front of the island, putting his hands on the counter, outstretched by his sides.
“Go back to bed,” I tell him. “It’s early.”
“You need to come back with me.”
“I have to have these done by five thirty,” I inform him, and his eyebrows pinch together, not really sure he’s understanding.
“You have to bake all these cakes by five thirty?” He chuckles, thinking it’s a joke. “What is going to happen if you don’t?”
“Well, one, I won’t get paid, and two, I might lose my only real job,” I tell him, and he just stares at me. “I have a little bit of a secret,” I start as I put the wet ingredients with the dry, turning on the mixer. “You see, when I left Winston, the money dried up faster than a water bottle in the desert in summer.” I smirk at him. “With that said, I needed money, and as you know, no one would hire me. Because, well…” I turn on the mixer higher as I walk over to the oven, pull it open, and grab my oven mitts before checking on the loaf pans. “So I baked Ms. Maddie a cake.”
He gasps, his eyes going big. “You?” He points at me, finally getting what I’m saying. “You are the one who bakes all those cakes my sister freaks out over?”
“I am that one.” I smile with pride.
“Why is it a secret?” He asks the question, and my eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, I could see Ms. Maddie wanting to help but not wanting to be stuck in the crossfire of those people.”
“Exactly.” I point at him, pushing the rack back in the oven and setting the timer for five more minutes before walking back over to the cake in the mixer. “So the deal is, I make the cakes and deliver them to the shop before anyone gets there.”
“When do you sleep?” he asks, pulling out a stool and sitting on it.
“After I take Wyatt to school, I usually crash for a couple of hours, maybe even take a nap in the afternoon.” I shrug. “I’ll have time to sleep when I have everything set up for us.”
He nods. “Go back to bed,” I urge him and he gets up, walking around the counter. My heart flutters when I see him getting closer to me. His hand wraps around my waist, and he pulls me to him. “Brady.” One of my hands goes on his warm chest as I look up at him.
“Will you wake me before you leave?” he asks me quietly, and I smile.
“If I don’t, I’m sure Wyatt complaining will wake you.” I laugh. “He’s not a fan of waking up and disturbing his sleep for ten minutes to get in the car, only to come back twenty minutes later.”
“Leave him here,” he suggests without a second thought. “Go and do your thing, and then come back.”
“But—” I start to say but stop when the buzzer goes off. His arms loosen around me so I can go and grab the cakes out of the oven, putting them on top of the stove.
“My sister would die to be in this room right now. You might not have any left.”
“Well, it’s a secret, and you can’t tell her,” I remind him nervously, but I know with Brady, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or Wyatt.
“Your secret is safe with me.” He stands beside me, looking at the cakes. “Always.”
“Go sleep,” I urge him, walking back to the mixer and turning it off. “I’ll wake you before I leave.” He nods and bends to kiss my neck, then slowly looks into my eyes when he kisses my lips.
“Okay, baby.” He gives my hip a squeeze before walking away from me. I watch his back until he turns the corner.
“I could get used to waking up to that,” I mumble before pouring the cake batter in the pan, smiling.
I work on a new peach pecan cream cheesecake, testing it out by making two loaves, one for Brady and one for Autumn. I pack up the cakes and tiptoe back upstairs. Brady is lying there on his side, sleeping. I go to Wyatt’s room to grab clean clothes from the bag I brought over last night. I just threw a bunch of shit in the bag in my haste, grabbing a pair of yoga tights and a T-shirt before walking out of the room. His snore fills the room as I close the door behind me and head to the bathroom.
When I walk back out, I think about leaving without telling Brady, but I know he would not be happy. So I walk to the side of the bed and think about how to play this. Should I bend and kiss his cheek, or should I tap his arm? I sit on the side of the bed. “Hey,” I whisper, and he turns to my voice before rolling on his side, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him.
“Hey,” he mumbles, forcing his eyes open.
“I’m going to go. Wyatt is still sleeping,” I tell him, and he nods.
“Okay, baby.” The softness of his voice makes me shiver. “Give me a kiss.” I can’t help but smile as I lean down and kiss him. “How long does it usually take you?”
“About thirty minutes.” He nods before tossing the covers off him and standing.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m not letting you go outside alone when he could be lurking, and you’re taking my truck.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I tell him, and he just looks at me.
“If he’s not out there waiting for you”—he puts his hands on his hips—“he might be waiting for you to leave. He might be okay with fucking with you, but he won’t fuck with you if you’re in my truck.”
“But,” I start to say, “Ms. Maddie will see me in your truck.”
“Yeah,” he retorts, like so what, “you’re living with me now. She’s going to know. Lots of people are going to be talking.”
“Living with you,” I repeat, not sure what he’s saying.
“You have to go.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room and downstairs. “Fuck, it smells good.” He walks over to the box and picks it up, then makes his way to the front door. “Grab my keys.” He motions with his head toward the table where his keys are sitting beside the front door. I pick up the keys and follow him down the steps as he looks around to make sure no one is out there waiting for me. He opens the passenger door and puts the boxes on the back seat of the truck, before walking over to me and opening the driver’s door. “See you soon, baby.” He kisses my lips as if we’ve always done this… always.
I get into the truck and pull out, making sure I drive properly in his brand-new truck. My eyes are looking around to make sure Winston is not waiting for me. When I pull up to the back of the bakery, Ms. Maddie is getting there at the same time. I jump out of the truck. “Do I want to know?” she asks, looking at the truck.
“Winston showed up last night,” I start telling her the story, which I’ve said often enough, “and this time, it got physical.” Her eyes go big and then razor sharp. “Brady came in and forced me to stay at his house.” The razor-sharp look changes.
“Isn’t that something,” she ponders, grabbing the boxes from me quickly. “Get out of here.”
“I might have a new cake next week,” I tell her, and she nods as she closes the back door. I make my way back to the house, seeing there are lights on in the kitchen and I’m sure I would have turned them off before I left. Parking, I get out and walk up the steps, opening the door softly but stopping when I hear voices.
"How many do you want?" I hear Brady ask, and I walk slowly to the kitchen, stopping in my tracks.
Wyatt sits on the stool facing Brady’s back, who is at the stove. “Hey, Momma,” he greets with a smile. “Brady is making me pancakes.” Speechless—that is the only thing I am. Actually, after I hear what comes out of his mouth next, I know I’ll never have words again. “And after that, he is taking me fishing.”