Chapter 10
chapter
ten
Farrah couldn’t believe Darren hadn’t kissed her after she’d told him she wanted a second chance with him. If Jim and Corey were to be believed, he’d been nothing but grumpy and moody since their break-up. Heck, she’d seen evidence of that herself.
But he’d only nodded, and she’d put the recipe on the kitchen counter. She’d then retreated to the safety of the living room. Too much heat stood in the kitchen, and none of it came from the boiling pot of water on the stove or the four-hundred-degree oven.
Darren worked methodically, which was a nice way for Farrah to say slow. But he got a meatloaf put together and in the oven before turning his attention to the potatoes. He’d just made those a couple of nights ago, but she still heard him muttering as he peeled.
She hated peeling potatoes with the fire of a thousand suns, so she couldn’t blame him.
Most of the blame she had to give always came back to herself.
She had a lot more to tell him, and from what he’d said yesterday at dinner, he wasn’t going anywhere until she started talking.
That more than anything had shown her that he genuinely cared about her.
So go on, she told herself. Get in there and tell him something he doesn’t know.
She leaned against the counter as he put the lid on the potatoes. “You’re doing awesome, Darren.”
“Thanks.” He glanced around the kitchen he’d cleaned as he’d cooked. “What do I do now?”
“Nothing. Everything cooks.” She glanced into her microscopic living room. “You come sit by me and talk until the timer goes off.” She extended her hand toward him, and he hesitated for a moment before taking it.
She waited for him to sit, and then she curled into him the way she’d done many times before. Usually she kissed him first. No, usually they ate first. Then he kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, then he fell asleep on her couch while they watched a movie.
Tonight, there was no food yet, no kissing, and no movie.
Farrah drew in a deep breath. “I haven’t talked to my parents in a while,” she admitted.
Darren drew lazy patterns along her bare arms, eliciting a shiver from her. “Why not?”
“I’m…I’m not their daughter.”
His fingers stilled. “Farrah,” he said in a warning tone. “Yes, you are. They raised you. You’re their daughter.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head, not quite sure what response she’d expected from him.
“Help me understand.”
Farrah didn’t say anything. She couldn’t articulate the way she felt well enough for him to understand. She wasn’t sure she understood it.
“I felt betrayed,” she said. “They lied to me for almost two decades.”
Darren resumed the upward slide of his fingers. He left fire everywhere he touched, and Farrah settled deeper into his side. “Did they say why?”
“My dad said they were trying to protect me.”
“From what?”
“From the truth: That I was unwanted.”
Darren sucked in a breath. “Farrah, they wanted you. They still do.”
She wanted him to say he wanted her. She waited, but he didn’t say it.
“You should call them,” he said instead. “Have you been up to see them? Do they even know you’re back?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ve been to see them once.”
“In a year.”
“And they came here for lunch once.”
“Two visits in twelve months.” He shifted, twisting to look at her. She could only meet his intense gaze for three seconds before looking away. “Do you call your mom?” he asked, his voice gentle and rough at the same time.
Farrah shook her head as shame filled her.
“Farrah,” he said. “Maybe you need…help.”
“Like a therapist?”
“Yeah.” He tucked her into his side again. “It’s not normal to feel this way, sweetheart. Your father told you about your adoption twelve years ago. You should be able to go see your parents, call your mom on the phone all the time. It’s not normal not to.”
What did he know about being normal? He didn’t have parents. “You don’t understand, because your mom and dad aren’t here.”
He stiffened, his grip on her bicep no longer loving and sincere but a vice. “That’s exactly why I understand, Farrah. Don’t you know how lucky you are to have them here with you? How can you waste a single day by not talking to them?”
The timer on the meatloaf went off, and Darren stood.
“I can’t believe you have two people who love you so much that they adopted you when you didn’t even come from them, and you won’t even talk to them.
It’s—it’s—” He opened the oven and pulled out the meatloaf, practically dropping it on the stovetop. “It’s selfish, Farrah.”
She stood too, his reaction so not what she’d needed or expected. “Don’t tell me I’m selfish.”
“What would you call it?” He cocked one hip while still wearing the oven mitt, and dang, if Farrah didn’t find him amusing and charming and downright attractive all at the same time.
“I don’t know,” she said. Maybe she did need professional help.
“All I know is that if my parents were still here, I’d call them all the time,” he said.
“I’d probably still be living in Wyoming on our farm, and I wouldn’t have had to traipse all over this country trying to find a job that would support me.
My brothers and I—” His voice cut off as if someone had pressed mute on his vocal cords.
He shook his head, his eyes bright and dark simultaneously. “I miss my mom and dad terribly,” he said, all the words sticking in his throat. “They’re not here to do anything about it. But yours are. Don’t you miss your mom and dad?”
She did. Oh, she did. She finally nodded, the lump in her throat at his raw emotion too big to swallow past.
“You’re pushy,” she said.
“And impatient, I’ve been told.” He gazed evenly at her. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know what to say to them.”
“You’re a smart woman, Farrah. You’ll figure it out.” Darren turned to drain the potatoes while every emotion Farrah had ever experienced streamed through her. He was pushy and impatient, but maybe he was also right. At least about this.
Why did you tell him if you didn’t want him to lecture you? Because Farrah had known he would. Darren was kind, and caring, and gentle, but he was also loyal, and honest, and true. He said what needed to be said. He forgave easily.
Steam lifted above his head, and Farrah rushed up behind him and embraced him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his back.
He turned carefully in her arms. “Don’t be sorry to me.” He wiped her tears and cradled her face. “Want me to stay with you while you call your parents?”
She thought about the meatloaf, getting cold on the stove. She thought about the potatoes, which wouldn’t steam forever.
She nodded. “Would you?”
“Of course.” He lowered his head, and she thought sure he’d kiss her. He did, but not on the mouth where she wanted him to, where she could connect with him too. Instead, his lips brushed along her cheek, pressed against her temple, and lifted lightly away from her.
She held very still in his arms, the scent of his cologne, and horses, and the starch from the potatoes mingling in her nose.
“Do you want to eat first?” he asked. “Or after you call them?”
Farrah wasn’t sure she could stomach a single bite of food. “After,” she said, trying to absorb the strength and solidity from Darren before he released her.
She retreated into the living room to collect her phone, and when she turned to face him, she changed her mind. “I want to call them by myself.”
“That’s fine.” He advanced toward her, a look of acceptance and love on his face. “I’ll take Bolt into the backyard.”
“You hate Bolt.” Her smile shook, but she didn’t care. Darren was here, and he wasn’t running away from her. He hadn’t liked how she’d acted, but he hadn’t condemned her for it either. She could only hope and pray her parents would be as forgiving.
“We get along fine.” He scooped the gray tabby cat into his huge arms to the symphony of a hiss and left Farrah to herself.
She watched him set the cat in the grass and settle into the hammock he’d installed last spring.
They’d spent many evenings in that hammock, their legs tangled as they talked and kissed and made plans for the future.
Plans she wanted to resume. A future she wanted to have with him.
She squared her shoulders and dialed her mother’s number. After all, Darren wouldn’t want to be with her if she didn’t clear the air with her family.
“Farrah?” her mom asked. “Is that you, honey?”
Farrah’s emotions cracked, and tears rushed from her eyes. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Can you get Dad on the phone too? I want to talk to both of you.”
Shuffles and scuffs came through the line, and then her dad said, “Farrah, is that you?”
The fact that they’d both asked if it was truly her, like they couldn’t believe she’d called, made her heart twist in her chest.
“It’s me,” she said, her mind still blank. But maybe she didn’t need to speak with her mind. Maybe she should let her heart take over. “I love you guys,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry I’ve treated you badly all these years. Can you ever forgive me?”
A sob came through the line, and then her mom said, “Of course, honey. We love you too.”
“We love you, Farrah,” her dad said, and Farrah nodded though they couldn’t see her, tears streaming down her face.