Chapter Five
West
Go big or go home.
That was Ricky’s advice, so here I am. Going pretty fucking big, if I do say so myself.
Ideally, my wife wouldn’t have a separate ride for a date, but this particular date has too many moving pieces to leave the setup to chance. So, I locked in and got it done myself. As I glance around, wondering if she’ll pick up on all the details linked to our past, there’s a smile on my face.
Not bad, Golden. Not bad at all.
I check the time on my phone, and the second it’s in my hand a text from Joss lets me know everything’s right on schedule.
She and Blue have been out shopping, and Blue believes they’re on their way to dinner.
I lied and pretended it was on me to lead a team workout this evening.
There was no such workout, and she and Joss have no such dinner plans.
Instead, she’s on her way here to, hopefully, see how much our marriage still means to me.
The sound of two car doors slamming shut has me breathing deep, knowing it’s time to get this show on the road.
Joss: Ok, she’s blindfolded like you asked, but she didn’t go down without a fight.
I smile at the text, imagining Joss and Blue going at it as Joss convinced her to go along with the plan.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I rush toward the back door, swinging it open as Joss escorts Blue toward the building, my girl stumbling over the uneven pavement like a toddler. Holding back a laugh, I mouth the words thank you to Joss, and she flashes a smile with the words good luck.
“Are you seriously letting go of me right now?” Blue hisses in Joss’s direction as Joss’s hands slip off her shoulders.
I take over, leading the shit-talker inside. She shuts up right away, and I know she recognizes the hand now linked to hers as mine.
“West? What’s happening? Can I take the blindfold off?”
“Yes, it’s me. You’ll know in a sec. And, no, you can’t take the blindfold off.”
My heart’s racing as I lead her between shelves in the stockroom, making our way toward the kitchen as she sniffs the air.
“Is that cinnamon? Why do I smell cinnamon?” She sniffs again.
“A better question would be: why the hell do you ask so many questions?”
She punches my arm lightly with the hand not connected to mine, and I laugh as I push through the double doors for us to step through. I take another look around, hoping this plan lands as I turn to face her, gripping the edge of the blindfold.
Finally rid of the scarf Joss tied around her head, Blue squints, rubbing her eyes a bit.
“West, I… what did you do?”
She sounds impressed, which was the whole point of this. To show her there’s still hope because there’s still love.
“We hadn’t been on a date in a while, so I…”
“You… shut down a restaurant for me?”
I shrug, because the effort that went into tonight was small compared to what I’d do for her and compared to what she’s worth to me.
“It’s a bakery, actually, but… yeah. I did.”
She takes a deep breath, and I watch her scan the room—the lit candles, the dozens of roses in crystal vases placed around the entire perimeter. Then, she hears it.
I know the moment she recognizes the song because there’s a big-ass grin on her face that makes me want to melt right at her damn feet.
“No way you remembered this,” she says softly.
I step closer, resisting the urge to kiss her before answering, “Senior year.” I pause, pushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “The bus ride to the championship game.”
Her face reddens, and I don’t take it lightly that, even after so many years together, I can still make this woman blush.
“Ok, so I stand corrected,” she says breathily.
I move to stand beside her, so I’m not blocking her view. “Anything else feel familiar?”
Her eyes narrow as she looks again, but then they soften. “The roses. Too many to count,” she adds with a quiet laugh. “Just like that night at the hotel.”
The story connected to that particular memory didn’t start out as sweet as her tone suggests. The roses were the result of me being a major fuck-up, and her being incredibly hard to convince I was worthy of her forgiveness.
But as her head settles against my shoulder, there’s no doubt it was all worth it.
I nod, answering her question as my arm slips around her waist. “Good. Anything else?”
When I glance down, her brow furrows, which means I’ve stumped her this time.
“Okay, that one was a trick question,” I say with a laugh. “This is the bakery. The one I—”
“The one you drove all over the city looking for because of my allergy,” she says, kissing my chin. “You almost missed the team bus, didn’t you?”
I nod. “Yep. And Coach wanted to kick my ass that morning.”
“Yeah, he was not happy,” she says, a laugh puffing from her lips. But then she peers up at me again. “I never told you this, but… I think that was when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
She shrugs and looks away, focusing on the flowers bathed in the glow of candlelight. “That’s when I knew you were more than just some jock with his nose in a playbook, more than just some… fuckboy.”
I laugh when she does, but she isn’t wrong. I lived up to every bit of that shit back in the day.
“I’m joking—kind of—but what I mean is… that’s when I knew you were real. That’s when I knew your feelings were real.”
The funny thing is, I knew my feelings for her were real way sooner than she’d ever guess, because I was an asshole to her for longer than I care to admit. But my wife is all heart, so it doesn’t surprise me that such a small gesture is what let her know I was—and am—completely in this.
Head first.
All the way.
When I tilt her chin with my finger, my lips are on hers the next second. But then I remember we’re on somewhat of a tight schedule.
“Hold that thought,” I say, stealing one last peck before releasing her. “Put this on.”
She seems confused when I grab a pink apron off the hook beside the door for her and a black one for me. Surprisingly, she doesn’t ask questions as she slips it over her head, but she does quirk a brow when I grab a bin from the fridge, prepped especially for us by the bakery owner, Allison.
“We’re baking?” she asks.
Smiling, I set the bin on the counter. “Of course, we are.”
She’s quiet now, watching as I lay out the ingredients, but it’s like I can feel her thoughts long before she actually voices them.
“I once saw you burn a pot while boiling water, West.”
“That’s because I was multitasking.”
She laughs at the excuse. “Playing a game on your phone doesn’t count as multitasking. You’re gifted in many ways, husband, but… cooking isn’t one of them.”
“Then, maybe you should quit insulting me and help.”
One corner of her mouth curves into a smile, and she accepts her copy of the laminated recipe Allison printed.
“Apple pie. Shouldn’t we start you off with something easy? Like… toast?”
She looks like a deer caught in headlights when I glare at her. “Real fucking cute.”
She yelps out a laugh when I push my fingers into her sides, only showing mercy when she begs me to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks. I stop with the torment, but don’t let her go.
“You done with the shit-talking?”
She holds out for a few seconds but breaks when I lift my hand to tickle her again.
“Okay, fine! I won’t talk shit,” she shouts.
And no sooner than I release her, she glares at me, mumbling something under her breath.
“What was that?”
She smirks, but she’s laughing again when I reach for her, and she holds up a rolling pin like it’s a weapon.
“Fine! Okay! I’m done.”
I can’t even pretend to be stern with her. This fucking girl has me grinning from ear to ear, damn-near forgetting all the bad shit that’s happened lately.
Almost.
We settle down to read the recipe more seriously this time, lightly elbowing one another like children trying to get the last hit as we scan the ingredients list. One by one, we pull out what’s on the instructions, and I’m man enough to say Blue does most of the work.
I act as more of an assistant, slicing apples while she makes the dough from scratch.
We add spices and assemble it together, then she sets the timer before we clean up our mess.
A mess that would’ve been much worse if I’d been left to my own devices.
We rest against the counter, staring at the oven. “We just killed that shit.”
She laughs, and I bring her to my side, hugging her as her arms slip around my waist. “We did. Now, I’m going to stand here and salivate until it’s done, because I’m starving.”
Those words leave her mouth just as a notification chimes on my phone. I smile at her. “Take your apron off.”
I feel her watching as I remove mine, too, then exit the kitchen to accept our dinner delivery. Blue looks just as curious when I return with a paper bag in hand, staring as I set it down on the linen-clad table Allison brought into the kitchen per my request.
“What’d you get?” Blue clasps her hands behind her back after asking, playing innocent as she tries to peek inside.
“Boat noodle soup.”
“From?” She lowers into her seat, propping her chin on the heels of her palms.
“That place around the corner from your dad’s.”
She gasps. “West Golden, you spoil me!”
I smile at the fact that it cost a pretty penny to rent this place out, but to my wife, two meals under twenty bucks is the part that feels like being spoiled.
A couple years ago, during a late-night dinner on our deck back in California, she went on a whole-ass rant about this one Thai restaurant. She likened eating their food to a spiritual experience, so ordering from there tonight seemed like a good idea.
Her face lights up when I place the bowl in front of her, then pass her a spoon. She’s already digging in before I can even pull mine out of the bag.
“Damn, is it good?” I chuckle.
“So good,” she nods, slurping a noodle between her lips.
“Glad I got it right.”
I glance over and catch her staring. “You definitely got it right.”