Chapter 29 Wren
WREN
Two hours had gone by, and my stomach was sick with worry. Genevieve’s chicken parmesan smelled divine, and I ate a whole plate of it even though I was afraid I’d throw it up at any moment. I hated having to pretend around her.
“Thank you for cooking dinner, Genevieve. It was delicious,” I gushed, rinsing off the last dishes and setting them on the towel to dry.
She smiled at me and winked as she finished her glass of wine. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m just ready for that oven to hurry up and cook our lava cakes.”
I glanced over at the kitchen timer on the microwave. “Three more minutes and they’ll be done.”
She poured me a glass of wine, and I sipped on it until the three minutes were up. When the buzzer went off, I took our chocolatey treats out of the oven.
Once I had them plated with a scoop of ice cream, I handed her one and sat down with the other. Genevieve wasted no time digging her spoon into the middle of the cake.
“If they’re not good, I’m sorry,” I said, cringing as she prepared to take her first bite.
I followed the recipe religiously and did precisely what I was supposed to. With a wide grin, Genevieve scooped up a huge spoonful and closed her eyes as she ate the first bite. Her eyes shot open, and she moaned in delight.
“Oh, Wren, I love it.” She wasted no time in scooping up another bite. “Have you made these for Seth?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. This is my first time.”
Her eyes widened even more. “Really? I never would’ve thought that. You baked them so effortlessly.” I took a bite of my cake and was shocked at how amazing they were. “Maybe when you visit me in New York, you can show me how to make them,” Genevieve said, finishing her dessert.
Hearing her say New York made me pause. I hadn’t really thought about what my and Seth’s future would look like.
Genevieve placed a hand over mine, catching my attention. “You wouldn’t mind teaching me how to make them, would you?”
I gasped. “No, not at all. I’d be happy to.”
How could I say no to her?
Her face brightened. “Great. I think Christmas will be a perfect time.”
Would there even be a Michelson family Christmas after tonight? I kept waiting for a phone call, anything to let me know what was going on.
Had the fight started?
Was Seth okay?
“Have you always been a master in the kitchen?” Genevieve asked.
Bursting out with laughter, I took our empty plates and set them in the sink. “Definitely not. I didn’t start cooking until just recently.”
Her brows furrowed when I sat back at the table with her. “Did you just not like doing it? I know you’re a woman of action with all the fighting. You’re not a typical female.”
That made me smile. “No, I’m not. I’ve never been the homemaker type.” However, the real reason why I never cooked was a part of my life I never wanted to go back to. “I didn’t cook because I never got the chance to,” I said, meeting her motherly gaze.
Her head tilted to the side. “Why not?”
I didn’t want to give her a pity story, but I felt like I could tell her anything. “I didn’t grow up in a normal home,” I confessed. “I was taken away from my parents at an early age and put in the system. My meals consisted of cereal and SpaghettiOs.”
Genevieve’s lips trembled and she reached for my hands. “Oh, sweetheart, that breaks my heart. Looking at you now, you’d never know you had a hard life.”
I was thankful for the events that led me in the right direction. “I’m glad you can’t tell,” I said. “I was afraid you’d look down on me if you knew I grew up poor.”
Genevieve’s eyes hardened. “Don’t ever think that, Wren.
Yes, there are people out there who will think they’re better than you, but they’re not.
” She clutched my hands tighter. “What I see is a beautiful woman who makes my son happy. No one has been able to do that. You have a spark in you that I wish I had.”
The woman was unlike any other mother I’d met.
It made me wonder how I would’ve been if I had a mother like her growing up.
Then again, I wouldn’t be who I am today if I did.
Genevieve was the opposite of me—soft-spoken and angelic—whereas I had a fiery personality and a sharp tongue.
Even our looks were completely different.
Genevieve’s platinum-colored hair was a stark contrast to my dark tresses.
I was the dark; she was the light. I could see how she would match up with someone like Seth’s father.
He needed that light of hers to balance out his dark.
Seth and I were a different story. He had both light and dark, just like I do; we were equal.
“You have a spark too, Genevieve. You’re a lot nicer than I could ever be. I can see how it draws people toward you.”
A small laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you, Wren.” She glanced around the kitchen and pointed at the extra lava cakes.
“You need to ask Seth about his chef up in New York. His name is Paolo. He can make anything you could ever dream of.” When her focus landed on me again, she perked up.
“Do you think you’ll ever relocate to New York? ”
I could see myself visiting but couldn’t imagine my life there, not with my family and friends on the opposite side of the country.
“My life is in California,” I said, watching her face fall. “It’s where all the people I care about are. Plus, Seth and I haven’t exactly gotten that far yet.”
Genevieve waved off the notion as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Either way, I’m sure everything will work out. Seth can have his private jet get you anytime you want. Other than your fighting schedule, there’s nothing that would keep you apart. You have to work at it together.”
She made it sound so simple. If she had faith it could work, I also had to believe it could. After tonight, I had no clue how things were going to change.