Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nima pulled the lid off the steaming soup pot and scooped up a spoonful of lentils, blowing on it before tasting his creation. It needed more salt. He added a dash, stirred it in, then sampled another bite. Perfect. He covered the pot again and reduced the heat.
He glanced at the clock over Mari’s stove.
Nearly five p.m. She’d been asleep for most of the day.
She needed to eat a substantial meal, do the breathing exercises Margie recommended for her ribs, and put a fresh ice pack on her ankle.
He rehung the kitchen towel he’d slung over his shoulder before quietly making his way to her bedroom.
Her door stood ajar so he could hear her if she needed him or called out.
He paused on the threshold. He still found it difficult to believe he was in Mari’s house, that they’d finally talked after all these years.
If only they’d had more trust in each other and themselves, enough to talk things through.
It strengthened his resolve not to let it happen again.
Ever. He lightly knocked. “Mari, are you awake?”
She switched on the lamp beside her bed.
Her lovely, tousled, golden-blonde hair flowed over her shoulders.
While they’d agreed to be friends, Nima still saw Mari as what she was and would always be to him—the love of his life.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes. “I woke up a few minutes ago but didn’t want to disturb you.
Especially when I heard you moving around in the kitchen and smelled the enticing scents of home cooking.
” She gave him the sweetest smile. “What’s for dinner? ”
“Lentil soup, but I’ll make something else if you’d prefer.” He had no clue what she ate these days, but lentils used to be a favorite of hers.
“Sounds delicious. I’m starving.” She pulled the covers back, revealing her rumpled scrubs.
Mari probably wanted a bath. But suggesting an activity that involved her getting naked didn’t seem like the best idea, especially given their friendship plans. “Do you want to try the crutches?”
Despite sleeping all day, dark circles hung under Mari’s eyes. The look she gave him was tired but grateful. “Yep, I’d better give them a whirl.” She paused, looking away for a moment. “Are you able to stay a few more days? Even through Christmas?”
Spend Christmas with Mari? His heart leapt at the possibility. His other options were staying with Tseten or visiting his mom in Denali. He tried to moderate his tone and not sound too eager as he said, “I’m available.”
Nima paused. He needed to ensure Mari was truly okay with this arrangement.
“But if you want help from someone else, like Tseten or another friend, just say so. It won’t hurt my feelings.
I want you to be comfortable.” If Mari chose Tseten over him, it would most definitely hurt his feelings, but he’d understand.
Nima and Mari’s relationship baggage was oversized and heavy.
As if to underscore this, he realized his hand had gone to the rings under the collar of his shirt.
Mari’s lips twitched as her gaze tracked his hand’s movement.
He quickly lowered his arm, and she said, “It’s okay, I played with the rings a lot too.
I want you to stay, Nima. I appreciate your help, and I’m comfortable with your being here.
This will give us a chance to start over again with a friendship. ”
A knot of emotion formed in his throat. He was so grateful for this opportunity.
“Okay, sounds good. Let’s begin by celebrating your big achievement.
I understand congratulations are in order for the new owner of the Wildwood Bakery.
” Her megawatt smile lit the room, and Nima’s heart swelled with pride for her.
“Tseten said you’d been planning a quiet celebration last night with a movie.
If you’re up for it, we could settle in for movie-night after dinner. ”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Did Tseten tell you the name of the movie?”
Nima shook his head. “No, but I’m up for anything.”
Mari chuckled. “I was going to watch The Gingerbread Soldier’s Christmas Crush. It’s guaranteed to have Christmas baking, a secret identity, a crisis solvable only with cookies or a formal Christmas ball, and a secret royalty reveal at the end.” She paused as if letting that sink in. “Still game?”
Nima didn’t fucking care what they watched. He’d be sitting through it with Mari, and she wanted to see it. That’s all that mattered. “I’m game.”
The way Mari’s eyes twinkled up at him made him feel like the luckiest yeti ever. She swung her air-casted-foot off the bed but paused as he handed her the crutches. “Did I have lentils in my cupboard?”
He helped her stand. “No, Tseten dropped off groceries while you were asleep. There should be enough food in the fridge for a few days. Tseten’s willing to arrange another delivery tomorrow if you need it and if the store does same-day orders on Christmas Eve.”
“That was nice of him, but I’m having a hard time planning beyond the next few minutes. I have an emergency stash of canned food if we need it.”
Nima would have a hard time planning too if he were in her shoes. “We can talk about it later. Right now, you can concentrate on walking to the dinner table on those crutches, and I’ll try not to be too overprotective as I hover behind you.”
Mari huffed a laugh, then grimaced. “No making me laugh.” She took a step forward, supported by the crutches. “I’m going to stop in the bathroom first. Let’s see if I can take care of some basic needs on my own.”
Of course Mari would push herself and recover fast. Nima was glad, but his chest panged nonetheless. Their few days of Christmas bliss were going to be over too soon, flying by faster than Santa’s sleigh with all his reindeer.
Mari glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror and froze.
Woof. She looked rough. But based on the chainsaw she’d heard Nima using earlier, the spruce tree had to be in worse shape than she was at this point.
Besides, she could do little more than run a washcloth over her body.
A shower wasn’t an option, not without handrails and a bench.
Maybe she could talk Nima into helping her into a bath tomorrow—if he promised not to look.
Her face heated, remembering how he’d leaned over her in the clinic, his giant, firm hand on her hip as he reminded her how he’d dropped, his cock becoming huge and hard when she’d pressed her backside against him in the closet.
So fucking hot. She fanned herself, her skin heating at the memory.
She would definitely replay that scene one night with Big Blue finishing her off.
“Everything okay in there?” Nima asked, and she startled as if caught with her hand down her pants.
He was likely waiting outside the door in case she fell on her face trying to get off the toilet.
She smiled at that. It had been ages since anyone fussed over her, and she found she didn’t mind, not when it was Nima.
“All good,” she called before grabbing her crutches once again. The door was a little awkward because it opened into the bathroom. Nima helped her maneuver out of the tight spot and make her way to her too-cluttered kitchen.
Except her table wasn’t as messy as usual.
Nima had cleared an area for dinner. He’d included champagne flutes, what looked like a chilled bottle of sparkling cider, and an envelope with her name on it next to her place setting.
Mari’s heart raced. Leave it to Nima to find small ways to make her feel special.
Acts like this were one of the reasons she’d fallen for him years ago.
“I hope it was okay to move a few things around so we’d have room to eat at the table.” The hesitancy in his voice snapped her out of her daze.
“It’s perfectly fine,” she said, accepting his arm as she lowered herself onto a chair.
“I rarely entertain.” She shrugged. “I guess I don’t have many reasons to keep my table clear.
” When she ate at home, she often lounged on her couch watching TV or stood in the kitchen.
A depressing image of herself eating cold, leftover Thai food straight out of the container while leaning over the kitchen sink flashed through her head.
“Well, you’ll have a reason for a few days, then you’ll be on the mend and can have your place back to yourself.”
Mari forced a smile. “Right.” Her chest twinged in discomfort, completely unrelated to her rib injury. She enjoyed Nima’s company and having her table set for a cozy dinner for two. It sure beat soggy leftovers eaten alone. “What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing at the cider bottle and the card.
Nima placed a bowl of soup and a hot roll in front of her. “Part of the celebration.” He joined her a moment later with his own serving. Then he unscrewed the cider bottle cap. “It’s not as impressive as uncorking sparkling wine, but we shouldn’t mix alcohol with your pain meds.”
Mari nudged her glass toward him so he could pour.
“This is so thoughtful of you, Nima.” She hadn’t wanted a celebration yesterday.
Her friends and family were out of town, plus the bakery itself would have its own grand reopening event in a few weeks.
But this small recognition was perfect, and she appreciated Nima’s efforts.
“Open the card,” he urged.
She slid a finger under the envelope’s flap and pulled out a card covered with a beautiful hand-drawn field of lupine. The various shades of lavender took her breath away. “Lupine are my favorite.”
Nima rested an arm on the table. “I know.” His face was nearly the color of the flowers on the card, as if embarrassed by something.
“Where did you get this? And how did you arrange all this so quickly?”
The tips of his ears turned darker than monkshood in July. “I told you. I gave Tseten a list, and he brought groceries.”
“Did he pick out this card? It’s gorgeous. I’ll have to thank him.”
Nima fisted his napkin into a tight ball. “I picked out the card for you.” He looked away. “Five years ago. An artist from Denali sketched it.”
Mari blinked. Five years? Like . . . in the middle of the ten years they weren’t talking to each other?
He set his abused napkin on the table and finally met her gaze. “Look, I saw it and thought you’d like it, so I bought it. I basically live out of my truck, so I had it with me. This celebration was the perfect occasion to give it to you.”
Mari blinked at his admission. No wonder he’d been blushing purple.
Had Nima been thinking of her as often as she’d thought of him all these years?
A lump formed in her throat, tears threatening again.
They’d lost so much during their time apart.
Regret simmered as she thought about how she’d blocked his number.
She would do better from this day forward.
With a slightly shaky hand, she opened the card.
My heartfelt congratulations, Mari. Running Wildwood Bakery was your dream. And now you not only run it, you OWN it. I’m so proud of you.
Yours,
Nima
The tears came. Especially as memories from their youth flooded her mind. Her parents had been supportive, but Nima had always been her biggest fan, so willing to try all her culinary creations.
She clasped his hand and squeezed. “Thank you for the thoughtful card, your support, and this celebration. It means a lot.” Her damn voice cracked.
Nima raised his cider flute. “Congratulations, Mari. To your new start.” His gaze never wavered from hers as they clinked glasses and sipped.
It might only be apple cider, but it was the best toast Mari had ever received.
She cleared her throat, trying to chase away the threat of tears. “So, what did you do all day?” she asked before scooping a spoonful of soup. “I mean, besides care for me, cook dinner, and plan a special celebration. I heard the chainsaw.”
Nima slathered butter on his roll. “I walked around the outside of your house looking for signs of damage. I didn’t smell natural gas or see cracks in your foundation.
But your deck railing will need repairs.
The tree that hit you is now nothing more than firewood stacked by your shed.
” He paused, holding up a finger as he chewed and swallowed. “All but the top.”
After wiping his mouth, Nima rose and walked over to Mari’s door. He lifted what she presumed was the spindly top of the giant spruce tree. “We could either douse it in lighter fluid and torch it or decorate it for Christmas.”
Mari loved both ideas. She clasped her hands together. “Let’s decorate it, then torch it after Christmas. There’s a tub of decorations in my shed. Can you bring them inside in the morning? I hadn’t gotten around to setting up a tree this year.”
Nima agreed, and Mari placed her spoon in her empty bowl.
Despite her aches and pains, she found herself immensely content.
She’d eaten a home-cooked meal prepared for her in her house and sat at the dinner table like an adult while asking Nima about his day.
They had a movie night planned. And tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, they’d decorate a tree together.
She refused to overanalyze how much she enjoyed spending time with Nima.
She needed to live in the moment. Besides, she deserved to experience a little holiday magic and be happy—for once.