by Hart, Staci
“Marinated grilled chicken, lime rice, and a kale and spinach salad with edamame, shredded carrots, and sesame-soy dressing. It’s beige—with the exception of the salad—and it has your staple rice and plenty of protein. The salad is high in folic acid.”
Katherine glanced up, her expression closed but for the inquisitive look in her eyes.
“It’s good for the baby’s brain development.”
“It is. I’ve added spinach to my beige diet for that reason.” She glanced back at her lunch, her cheeks flushed again. “What a thoughtful meal. I can’t believe you cooked all this for me.”
I shrugged, busying myself with bottles of water and cutlery to avoid her eyes. “It was nothing really. I enjoy cooking. I made enough to feed Ma, too. I used to cook for Tommy, but now Amelia’s taken over my gig. Although I almost always cook the four of us dinner.”
“I’ve never quite understood it,” she admitted. “Cooking, even eating sometimes, feels like a chore. Filling my body with fuel. It’s a necessity, not a pleasure.”
“Well, now I have a new goal in life.”
Her head tilted.
“To turn your refueling into a pleasure.”
She chuckled, forking a bite of salad. Her face was down, her lips smiling. She seemed almost shy.
It was incredibly attractive.
And the sight gave me bravado I should have ignored. But I didn’t.
“How about our next meeting?” I asked. “Dinner at my place?”
She paused, fork mid-motion. A spinach leaf fell off the prongs and back into her dish. “I’d like that.”
I smiled, taking another bite.
Externally, I was calm and contained, eating lunch with a pretty girl in the park. Internally, I was in the middle of a touchdown dance in the end zone.
But there was a flag on the play. Nothing was certain.
I had no idea what the hell had changed since last week, but whatever the catalyst was, it struck a match of hope in my chest. We were going to have dinner in the privacy of my apartment. And today, she’d dressed up just for me. She’d painted her lips crimson even though I had a feeling lipstick probably bothered her. She’d worn heels, one of which had fallen off the back of her foot and dangled by her toes. She didn’t even seem to notice.
This version of her was an in-between—not quite Katherine, not quite Kate, but a hybrid of the two. And she’d agreed to come over for dinner. It’d be good practice. I’d have to keep my hands to myself when she moved in. Better to start building up my immunity now. Otherwise, I’d never be able to keep my promise.
She hummed her approval as she chewed. “I have to admit,” she said when she’d swallowed, “I wasn’t sure about the salad. Kale offends my senses on almost every level.”
“When I used to wait tables at a seafood restaurant, it was nothing more than an inedible garnish on which to place a lemon.”
“That’s a use I can support. Well, that and this salad.” She took another bite and moaned. “So good. I haven’t eaten a real meal in so long, I almost forgot what food tasted like.”
I frowned. “Does the nausea last the whole time?”
“No. By the time we’re living together, it should have subsided. Hopefully, at least.”
She said it so casually, without hesitation. Living together. I brushed the impulse to read into it away.
“I’ll plan a feast to commemorate. Cakes and pies and steaks and vegetables. Not a single thing on the table will be beige.”
Her brow quirked. “Can we have fries?”
I laughed. “Anything you want, Kate.”
“Thank you, Theodore.” She fished around in her container for more food. “I’m surprised you waited tables. I can’t quite picture you as restaurant staff.”
“Oh? I definitely was. Tommy bartended—way more money in it, but drunk people drive me nuts. He’d tap-dance around and entertain them, eat up the attention. I would have ended up laying them out or pitching them out the front door.”
She assessed me, head tilted. “I think it’s the suit. You look very…serious. Adult. I can’t even seem to imagine you young.”
“I’ll have to break out Ma’s albums for you. Tommy and I were wiry teens, tall and skinny and full of attitude. Well, Tommy at least. I just had to back his attitude up with a couple of spare fists.”
“I can’t imagine that either. You’re too civilized for brute force.”
Another laugh, this one a little too loud, the volume broken by my surprise. “You’ve met my brother, right?”
Her brow quirked. “Of course I have. You were there when I met him.”
“What I meant,” I said on a laugh, “is that he’s savage. He runs strictly on emotion, ruled by his heart. And all that’s done is lead him straight into trouble. It’s always been that way. He possesses a moral compass that cannot be swayed.”
“So do you.”
“True,” I conceded, “but the difference is that I think. Plan. Calculate. Act and react based on outcomes and consequences. Tommy doesn’t think a step ahead—he’s caught in the moment. I, on the other hand, don’t make many moves without thinking five steps down the line. But when we were kids, there was nothing to do but back him up. Hell, even now I back him up. At least now I get paid for it with more than a fat lip.”
Something hot burned behind her eyes like flickering embers. “Without a plan, I’m generally immobilized. I think everything through before taking a step as well. It’s why I’ve had difficulty coming to grips with so much change so fast.”
The simple honesty of her admission struck me. I lowered my container, resting it on my lap, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m having trouble with the uncertainty of all this. How do you plan for something you have so little control over?”
“You can’t,” I answered plainly, gently. “All you can do is plan for what you know. Make contingency plans. And above all else, be flexible.”
The embers in her eyes flared at that. “I’m trying to learn that. Flexibility. It’s not easy for me.”
“Me either,” I admitted, “but surviving my life and my brother has instilled that in me by conditioning.”
She nodded, pausing to think. And those thoughts were so loud, I could almost hear them. “Then I have another proposition.”
My heart lurched, sensing something I hadn’t anticipated. “I’m all ears.”
I expected her to argue the idiom, but she didn’t. She seemed too nervous to point out the impossibility of being comprised solely of ears.
“You are, by your own admission, somewhat of an expert at adapting to the unforeseen, and I am inept. I’d like to propose that you take the lead on decisions.”
I stared at her, unblinking. “Do you think that’s something you’ll actually be able to do? Let me lead?”
“Well, you did it so well at the club,” she joked wryly.
“It’s true, I did. But this is different.”
“I’m not saying it won’t come without its fair share of discussion. I need to be convinced. But you’re very convincing.”
I chuffed a laugh. “You’re not wrong there either. But I’m not sure if you really want to give me absolute power.”
“It wouldn’t be absolute. You’re right, there’s no way I could do that. But I’d like to open the lines of communication. I need input that’s logical and flexible and in opposition of my own. Because currently—and I’m guessing that for some time to come—I am emotional in ways I don’t know how to manage. I can’t untangle emotion from reason, and it’s been…difficult for me. And so, I’m wondering, can you help me?”
Her eyes were wide with uncertainty and open with earnestness. This woman who was so composed by law was vulnerable, laid out at my feet with her underbelly up. The weight of her request wasn’t lost on me.
And I had every intention of upholding the promise I made when I said, “Anything you want, Kate.”
She smiled, those transmutable eyes softening
with relief.
“But first, finish your salad.”
When she laughed and scooped up a bite, I was no less than a king among men. Because she’d given me power, given me a modicum of control over a kingdom I’d do anything to rule.
And I wouldn’t waste the chance.
12
Scientific Method
Katherine
9 weeks, 4 days
A week later, I was at Theo’s door, anxiously waiting just like I’d been since I saw him last.
We were just a few short weeks from our cohabitation date, which seemed to be approaching with a speed I wasn’t comfortable with but had no choice but to endure.
The only comfort was Theo.
Our lunch in the park had been another relationship step on a staircase that rivaled a Mayan temple. Agreement to dinner. The idea had struck me like a thunderbolt the second he said flexibility—a word I’d been trying to embrace. I could have him help me make all these decisions with logic and reason since my meter was busted.
Picking out a stroller-car-seat combo was one thing. But being rational about where I lived, how to change, how to assimilate to life with him…well, that was more than I could handle at present.
The truth was, I could use someone stable and rational to help me make decisions, and Theo was the prime candidate.
The downside was that I’d have to be frank with him about everything.
Everything, including my feelings regarding him.
Because I had a lot of feelings about him, and I hadn’t the slightest idea how to handle them.
They were irrational, the whole lot of them, betraying my original plan to remove myself from the situation entirely. Now I had no choice. And that put me in a precarious place, one I was hoping he could save me from.
I only had to tell him.
He answered the door with a smile. The spice and smell of cooking meat hit me in a wave that had me salivating.
Well, it was either that or the sight of Theo.
I always forgot how tall he was until in his presence, the height of him impressive and commanding, casting a shadow that all else fell under. It was a quiet magnetism, the draw of him inexplicable. He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie as he normally did, which was lamentable but for the fact that he still wore a tailored shirt and slacks. But rather than the strict neatness he usually possessed, his shirtsleeves were cuffed at his elbows, and the button at his throat was undone. One revealed wide wrists and broad forearms, corded with muscle. The other exposed the soft hollow of his throat and the angular knot of his Adam’s apple.
Both were undeniably masculine. The impulse to press my lips to that delicate hollow surprised and disarmed me.
“Hello, Theodore.”
His smile widened. “Hi, Kate. Come on in.”
He shifted out of the way, and I entered, passing through the ghost of his scent, which overrode dinner by miles.
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“I am. Thank you for having me.”
“Thanks for indulging me. I told you—it’s my new mission in life to make refueling a pleasure.”
I laughed, but the sound was tight, nervous.
Theo glanced at me, but the look was comforting even though I caught a glimpse of recognition and worry in his eyes.
“My mom’s just in the living room,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you still want to meet her?”
I nodded once, trying to be discreet as I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs. His eyes flicked to the motion, but he offered me a warm smile.
I both appreciated his perceptiveness and loathed how it exposed me.
“All right,” he said, laying a large, reassuring hand on the small of my back. “You’re lovely, as always, Kate. I really am glad you came.”
“Me too,” I said, which was only partly a lie.
I was glad to be there, and I was glad to be on the threshold of telling him how I felt about him. It was eating me alive to keep the words bottled up. I wasn’t a particularly successful bottler of things. I typically said what I felt, when I felt it, which was its own problem.
It actually hadn’t been until recently that I realized not everyone was interested in my opinion, on top of the realization that I didn’t actually have to say what was in my head the moment a thought entered it.
But I was not glad for the anxious feeling snaking through my guts at the prospect of coming clean with Theo. Or with meeting his mother.
Mostly because I didn’t give a very good first impression.
I was, from my cursory research and observation, generally taken as abrasive, too forward, and cold. My friends were all warm, with soft faces and pleasant smiles, gentle natures and breezy attitudes. Well, Val was closer to running hot than warm, with a penchant for saying what she felt that ran as deep as my own impulses. The difference was that she was funny and charming about it, where I was just blatant and harsh.
The present issue being that I wanted Theo’s mother to like me. I wanted that very much.
The entryway opened up to the living room, and sitting on the modern, low-backed couch was Sarah.
She shifted, picking herself up to stand with far more effort than it would have were she healthy. Theo rushed to her side, cupping her elbow and offering his hand for support, which she took gratefully.
I stopped on one side of the coffee table, unsure of where to stand or how to greet her. Rather than make a wrong move, I waited where I was with a practiced smile on my face. I hoped it looked more natural than it felt.
Theo helped her around the table—I batted away the guilt that she would go to trouble for me—and they came to a stop in front of me. She was beautiful, though small, frail, especially next to the vitality of her son. They had the same thick black hair, and her eyes matched her boys’—unfathomably dark and deep. Her smile felt like a hug. And, since I didn’t particularly like being hugged, my preference for her warm smile was easy and welcome. I wanted to wrap myself up in that smile and live there.
“Katherine. It’s good to finally meet you, honey.” Her voice wavered, her hand trembling as she extended it.
I didn’t miss that Theo held on to her.
I took her hand and clasped my free hand to the back of hers, enveloping it like I’d seen Amelia and Rin do. Val was a hugger. I wasn’t quite ready for that though.
“Hello, Sarah. I’m glad to meet you, too.” I paused, feeling like I should say something else but unsure as to what.
“Come sit with me for a minute before dinner?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course,” I answered, composing a list of topics in my mind to carry the conversation as I followed them back to the couch.
“So, Teddy tells me you’re a librarian,” she said as she settled in. “I bet it’s a real treat, being around books all day. I love the smell of old books.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “And it is a treat. I’m a page, which means I shelve books all day. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything so immediately satisfying as putting things where they belong for a living.”
“Does it bother you to be alone all day? I’d probably be talking to myself a couple hours in like a crazy person.”
“Oh, no—the solitude suits me, always has. My parents thought I was odd for preferring books and the comfort of my room to playing outside or making friends.”
She chuckled. “Depends on the kid. Tommy and Teddy were always outside, and they had about a hundred friends. It coulda been thirty degrees and snowing, and they’d be too busy scheming places to sled with their gang to be cold.”
Theo’s face was alight with adoration as he watched over his mother. “There was a hill in Mount Eden, and if we got it before it was plowed, we could sled down the sidewalk on a cardboard box fast enough to give you whiplash.”
“Especially when you hit a trash can,” she added.
Theo smirked. “Tommy lost a tooth. One of many.”
“A third of what he’s got left is porcelain,” Sarah said
with a laugh.
“I’ve never broken a bone,” was all I could think to say.
“No, you?” Theo teased. “I was sure you played field hockey.”
My brows drew together in confusion. “Whatever would make you think that?”
He laughed. “Call it a hunch.”
“Contact sports make me uncomfortable. Why would you willingly do something that might injure you? I’ve never understood.”
“That’s because you’ve never played. Or broken anything. It’s almost always worth it.” I must have looked unconvinced because he added, “The adrenaline high. Really, the risk is half the fun.”
Sarah laughed. “I’m with you, Katherine. I’d much rather be reading than risking my neck for a rush. But my boys…well, they were always out for trouble.”
“I’d suspect it’s their testosterone production. It makes males much more aggressive and willing to take risks. It also makes them more competitive. Considering their muscle mass and density of hair, I’d say theirs is quite high.”
This time when Sarah laughed, it was with surprise and what I thought might be a touch of discomfort. I was glad I’d stopped myself before mentioning sexual capacity.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling myself flush. “I have a photographic memory and sometimes recite facts when I’m nervous.”
Theo’s face softened.
Sarah’s warmed. “Oh, honey, don’t be nervous. You’re already a part of our family. There’s nothin’ you need to do to hang on to that spot. It’s yours.”
My ribs were a vise, tight around my lungs. “Thank you,” I said quietly, automatically.
“Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind to me,” she said. “Not about anything, testosterone or otherwise. Anyway, I don’t mean to intrude on your night.” She shifted, bracing herself on the arm of the couch so she could stand. Theo helped her up. “I’ll leave you two to dinner. I’ve got a date with a serial killer.”
I blinked, my lips flattening.
She caught my expression and smiled. “Netflix. The Ted Bundy documentary.”
“Oh, of course,” I said with a sigh.
