Chapter 18 #2
I’m standing at the counter that forms an L from the stove.
She’s just behind me. If I stepped backward, we’d touch.
Every part of me tingles with the awareness of her—the slow sound of the spoon brushing the pot as she stirs, the warmth of her nearness, the soft rhythm of her breath.
I lift a slice of cheese and my elbow brushes her shoulder.
My skin prickles and hums. I turn to catch her eyes and she looks up at me.
And we just stand there, staring at one another, taking our time because we can.
“No special requests,” she says, clearing her throat and turning to click the burner off. “Surprise me.”
I turn back to the cutting board, laying out bread, spreading it with mustard and mayo, then layering the meat, cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce.
“Potato salad? Fruit?”
“It’s midnight, Grey.”
“It’s seven in the morning in Munich,” I lift my eyes to meet hers.
“Well then, you should be making me an omelette.”
“I can.” I raise my brows and wait for her answer.
She smiles. “A sandwich will do.”
I open the fridge, tipping the bowl of fruit salad to slide some onto each of our plates, then I carry them to the table, setting hers at the head and mine at the seat adjacent.
Hallie takes her seat without any hesitation. She sets down two glasses of water.
I take my seat, my knee bumping hers when I tuck my chair in. Her eyes lift and she shifts slightly to her left, putting a small gap between us.
Maybe I should have set us across from one another—using the table as a barrier. But, as complicated as our situation is, I want to be near her.
“Hot cocoa for dessert,” she says.
“I’m good with that.”
I’d be happy with stale crackers and lukewarm water.
She takes a bite of sandwich and hums. “Mmm good.” She wipes her lips with a napkin and says, “Anytime someone cooks for me, it just tastes better.”
“So you’re saying my sandwich is subpar, but you’re eating it with rose-colored glasses?” I tease.
“This sandwich is a Michelin three-star meal as far as I’m concerned.”
“Says the European nomad.”
She blushes. “You remember.”
“All of it.”
Her smile is shy, but sweet. When she looks at me, she doesn’t glance away.
“Me too.” She takes another bite.
We sit, quietly eating, and then she says, “So, do you live in town?”
I shake my head and swallow my bite. “No, I have a property outside town a little ways.”
She perks up. “What’s it like?”
“Too big for one person. Private. Quiet.”
She nods.
“You could see it sometime,” I offer before I think better of it. “You know, to satisfy your curiosity.”
“I am curious,” she admits easily.
“You always were.”
She smiles and that young woman is back—walking the streets of cobblestone with me.
I take another bite of sandwich, swallow and ask the hard question that’s been burning inside me ever since the night at her house—maybe ever since she walked through the bays, showing up here out of the blue. “So, Mia’s dad isn’t in the picture? Or …”
“You want the short-and-sweet story?”
“Is it sweet?”
“Not really.”
“I want whatever version you want to tell me.” I set my sandwich down, leaning back in my chair.
“We were married. We had talked about wanting kids—later. I wanted to go through med school. He wanted to build up our reserves, buy a house, and travel a little. I think he always resented my gap year.”
I’m quiet, not liking where this is going—at all.
“When I found out I was pregnant, his answer was, ‘How?’” She scoffs.
My fingers tighten around my glass of water.
“Anyway,” she says, attempting to affect a breezy air. “There’s a lot more to it. He made a go of it. Stuck around for Mia’s first year. Then, right after her birthday, he asked me for a divorce.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. He knew her a whole year, but in the end, all he could say was, ‘You knew I wasn’t ready.’”
She shakes her head and then she looks at me—really looks. “He’s not a bad man. I know it makes him sound like one. He’s just incapable of being a good father—or a consistent one. He gave up custody, but retains rights to visitation. Rights he exercises every so often.”
She looks like there’s so much more to say. Her face has morphed from happy and easy to tense and far away.
My jaw ticks. “What man would abandon his own child and wife for no good reason—let alone you and Mia?”
Was there another woman? I wonder but don’t ask. If Hallie wants me to know more, she’ll tell me.
She pokes around at her fruit salad, and then she looks up at me. “There wasn’t another woman. People always wonder. There wasn’t. Just ambition and … fear, I guess.”
I feel my blood boil beneath my skin. Hallie sighs and then she’s back, eating her sandwich, setting aside the emotions and weight that temporarily stole her joy.
I run my hands down my thighs and blow out a slow breath.
“Life isn’t what we plan it to be. A real man knows that and steps up to whatever cards he’s dealt.
” I hold Hallie’s gaze. “Not that you or Mia are a bad hand of cards. That came out all wrong. You’re a winning hand …
” I clear my throat. “Anyway. He’s a fool. ”
She smiles softly and simply says, “Thanks.”
Words come to mind—things I could say to her about how strong she is and how much I admire her, what a good mom she is, how lucky Mia is to have her. But I don’t say any of that. I just stand and reheat the cocoa.
“Ready for dessert?” I ask.
She stands and grabs down two mugs. “Always.”
She deserves to have fun. I don’t know where that thought comes from or why, but it digs roots in and refuses to let go.
I pour the cocoa and rinse the pan in the sink.
Then I pick my mug up and lean back on the counter across from Hallie.
I’m not the man to bring fun into someone’s life. As a matter of fact, I might be the absolute worst candidate for the job.
I run my fingers down the smooth ceramic of the mug.
I had it in me once. For her, I can find that piece of me again.
We finish our cocoa, not saying much more to one another, but smiling at one another occasionally. I like that she can be quiet like this, not rushing to fill the space with words. I rinse our mugs and we walk through the bays back toward the bunks.
We don’t hug goodnight. Instead, we’re silent, careful not to disturb Dustin and Patrick. I whisper goodnight and she whispers it back with a soft smile.
I lie in my bed on the edge of sleep, my thoughts blurring between Hallie in the kitchen and Hallie in Munich.