Recipe for Romance

by Olivia Miles

  Just old friends who had kissed.

  Julia held her gaze, her expression impassive, her head tipped. Finally she shrugged and bit into the corner of a triangle of toast. “If you say so.”

  Emily narrowed her eyes in suspicion. It wasn’t like her sister to let things drop so easily. “Well, I do say so,” she said with a huff. She blew at the steam curling up from her mug and took a tentative sip, her pulse twitching at the memory of last night.

  She set the mug on the table. It was different now, she reassured herself. Scott was a grown man. He wasn’t going to behave like a teenager and leave her hanging without so much as an acknowledgment.

  “Well, I guess if you’re just friends then you won’t care that he stopped by here again, looking for you this morning,” Julia said mildly.

  “What? When?”

  With a glimmer in her eyes, Julia pushed aside her plate of toast and met Emily halfway over the table. “About half an hour ago. I told him you were sleeping.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he’d look for you later.”

  “He told you that?” Emily gasped.

  Julia looked insulted. “Would I ever lie to you, Em?” She sat back in her chair and played with the handle of her coffee mug.

  “No, of course you wouldn’t lie to me.” Emily glanced at the clock once more. Realizing it was nearly time to leave for work, she gulped the rest of her coffee, hoping the heavy dose of caffeine might help clear all the conflicting emotions muddling her head.

  She washed her mug in the sink and then turned to face Julia, who had already recovered and was grinning suggestively. With a knowing chuckle, Emily shook her head and patted her sister on the shoulder as she walked out into the hall, craning for the slightest sound behind Scott’s door. With only a twinge of disappointment, she deduced he had left for the day, probably hard at work already. Last night he’d told her the library project was moving ahead and a crew was already on-site to clear out the rubble. What that meant for the two of them, she didn’t know—she hissed in a breath, catching herself. The two of them. Was it really possible?

  Emily pressed her lips together and hurried to the stairs, dropping her to hand to the rail as she quickened her step. She stopped at the landing when she spotted Scott standing in the vestibule at the base. The faintest furrow gathered between his brows when he looked up at her.

  She paused at his hesitation and then offered a tentative smile. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets as she slowly took the remaining stairs. His low voice sent a shiver down her spine. She waited to see if he would reach out to her, touch her, give her a sign that last night hadn’t been a fleeting occasion. A mistake.

  But all he did was stand there.

  “Julia mentioned that you stopped by this morning,” she managed.

  “You off to work?” he asked, and Emily frowned.

  “Yep.” Her tone was clipped but she didn’t care. Something between them had shifted since last night. The spark that seemed to have been reignited in the past week was suddenly snuffed out.

  She drew a breath and turned to the mailboxes. Yesterday’s mail still filled their box, forgotten in the midst of everything else. Emily paused, realizing how consumed with Scott she had allowed herself to become, and then pulled the stack free from the slot, her heart lurching when she saw the thick, solid envelope with the telltale return address. She held it in her hands, blinking in disbelief, as her breath wedged in her throat.

  Scott inhaled. “Free for dinner tonight?”

  Emily turned her attention back to him, trying not to think of the letter in her hands, the decision she would soon be forced to make. “Sure.”

  “I have to go through some paperwork over at the office, but how about I swing by your place around...seven?”

  Her mind immediately went to Julia, who would surely be home and who would undoubtedly get carried away with the idea of a date—Emily stopped herself. A date? Was this what it was?

  “Seven will be perfect,” she managed, her voice latching in her throat.

  “Good, good.” He nodded his head, holding her gaze, and she clung to his stare, unable to peel her eyes from him just yet. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Her breath snared in her tightening chest, wondering just what he had to say, and wishing she didn’t have to wait until this evening to find out.

  Julia’s words rushed back to her, speaking the unspoken thoughts she had harbored all those years. Maybe, just maybe, she had let him get away once. But not again. Not this time.

  Before she could process what she was doing she took a step forward and carefully, slowly, clasped her lips to his. He remained still at first, but he didn’t resist her, and she tried again, parting her lips to his, sighing as his tongue skimmed against her bottom lip. She felt his hand brush against her hip as the other slid behind her back and then she was against him, the hard, solid plane of his chest, her mouth clamped on his, their tongues lacing more quickly, hungry in their need. He tasted like coffee and mint toothpaste, and his hair smelled like soap. She grazed a hand down his chest, feeling the hard ripples under her fingertips and then she spread her palms to his arms. The dusting of hair against his smooth, warm skin prickled her desire on contact, and she rubbed her hands over the hard curves of his biceps.

  She combed her fingers through the thick hair at the base of his neck, moaning into his mouth as he searched her with greater need, her body melting into his, and she felt in that moment that she could become his, that a part of her had always been right here in his arms, holding on to this feeling. All she needed was him—him and the sensations he aroused in her. Nothing else would matter. Not the pain he had caused her, not the loss she had endured, not her lonely childhood. Nothing. She didn’t need anything other than him. This.

  Slowly, Scott pulled back, ending the kiss. “I’ll see you tonight, then,” he said, and Emily could only nod, frowning at the change in his expression. His smile seemed too tight. His eyes looked flat.

  She waved as he slipped out onto the sidewalk and she watched his back retreat until there was nothing left to see but the slew of familiar faces passing down Main Street. He felt like a ghost again—like a person she had once held and whose memory she still clung to, but a person who had slipped away from her a long time ago.

  Emily shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. The envelope in her hands felt heavy—like a burden rather than the relief she had expected it to be. She stuffed it into her bag unopened and then ran as fast as she could to Sweetie Pie, and despite knowing Lucy was waiting for her, she felt more alone than ever.

  She was pinning her hopes on dreams, and she had a bad feeling they were all about to come crashing down.

  * * *

  Scott hated being at the offices of Collins Construction. Everything about it, from the beige Berber carpeting to the awards and plaques lining the walls, made his insides churn. The office felt like a sham—a cover for a well-preserved scandal. One of their own had died, but the company had continued, and these four walls and everything they contained felt hypocritical. Callous. Cold.

  He had once again slipped in through the back door, even though the offices were closed on the weekend. The files he needed were in his father’s cabinets, and he flicked through the folders, pausing to study their contents. Scott pulled up the details of the library project, adding a few ideas here and there as he cross-referenced the blueprint spread before him. It was a shame, he knew, that such a large part of the old library had been damaged, but the reconstruction would turn the entire building into a monument, a pillar of the town. The architect had been clever with his details, ensuring the new wing would maintain the authenticity of the quaint New England town and the existing structure that hadn’t been damaged, while inside, the
most modern amenities would guarantee it could last long into the future. It was an important building, a community center in many ways, and despite the wall he had put up around this town, Scott couldn’t help but feel a little proud to be a part of this project. It felt good to be able to do something positive for the town. For Lucy.

  Scott stood up and paced the room, looking at it with fresh eyes. As a child, he used to think his father’s office was enormous, but now it felt cramped and dim. The furniture he once thought so stately just looked old and worn. The room had always been like this, he supposed, but back then he just wasn’t disillusioned to it yet.

  On a console table near the window, Scott noticed a picture of himself wearing a hard hat and holding his father’s hand. He turned it face down on the table with a scowl.

  It was really time to get out of here.

  Gathering a stack of files together, he grabbed his keys to leave when his sister’s voice cut through the silence. “Scott!” It was a panicked cry. A cry he had heard once before, a long time ago. A cry of fear before the commotion dimmed his clarity, big men came running, shouting and his dad was grabbing him by the back of the shirt, pushing him faster than his legs could carry him until the car door slammed shut, locking him safely inside. “Scott! Scott!” His blood went still.

  “Scott!” Lucy’s voice sounded strangled, frozen in fear. Before he could react, she burst into the room. Her face was tearstained. Scott noticed the red rim of her eyes, the clutch of wet tissue in her hand.

  “Thank God I found you,” she gushed.

  “What is it?” His tone was brusque, hardened in a way he hadn’t intended. He was bracing himself for the worst. The anticipation was nearly choking him.

  “It’s Dad,” Lucy whispered as her words caught in her throat. “He’s been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. We have to go. Now.”

  He nodded abruptly. “I’ll drive.”

  His focus remained on the back door at the end of the hall as he wove his way to it and pushed it forcefully, until it ricocheted off the back of the building. Lucy was crying harder now, explaining what had happened, if only to walk herself through it.

  “I guess he passed out and hit his head on the corner of that desk near the window. I was just out there this morning, too, and he almost seemed a little better. I dared to hope...” Lucy sniffed. She hesitated before adding, “He was asking about you.”

  Scott ground his teeth. “That’s nice,” he said flatly.

  “He’s so proud of you, Scott,” Lucy said hopefully, and Scott felt his anger begin to stir.

  “Please don’t, Lucy.”

  “Why? Why shouldn’t I say something?” She almost shouted. Scott gripped the steering wheel, his mind whirling as he made a quick right at the intersection. “Why should I always have to pretend that none of this has anything to do with me? That it’s only between you and them and that somehow I am just unaffected?”

  “Because this isn’t about you, Lucy,” Scott said, determined to keep a clear head.

  “Yes, it is! Of course it is!” Lucy insisted. “You’re my brother! They’re my parents! You disappeared for twelve years—twelve years—and now you finally come back just in time to watch Dad die! Do you know what this feels like to me? Do you, Scott? Do you even care?”

  Scott kept his eyes on the road. “Of course I care.”

  “Then why did you have to come back and ruin everything?”

  “I came back because you asked me to.”

  “But why couldn’t you have just let things go? Why did you have to come over to the house and make everyone upset?”

  Scott forced a breath, willing himself to remain calm. “I told you I shouldn’t have come. You didn’t listen to me.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Lucy.” He could no longer keep the frustration from his tone. “I didn’t come over to make everyone upset. I can promise you that.”

  “All I wanted, all I hoped, was to have my family together again. I never knew what happened or why there was a rift, but I thought maybe someday...someday...” She trailed off, crying.

  “Don’t you think I wanted the same thing?” he asked.

  “But you made it worse!” she accused.

  “Maybe. Maybe so.” He sighed. He certainly hadn’t made it better. Scott drove on, his heart aching as her weeping filled the car. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this, Lucy.”

  “They wanted you to come back, you know,” she hissed, fury flickering in her watery gaze. “It was you who stayed away, Scott! You tore this family apart!”

  Scott fought back the mounting emotion that seized his chest. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I just don’t understand why you can’t be the bigger person here, Scott.”

  “You’re right, you don’t understand,” Scott repeated.

  “Try me.”

  Scott slammed on the brakes at the red light and turned to lock her heated stare. He took a few breaths, and then steadied himself. “Now isn’t the time,” he said. “Our father is in the hospital, he’s terminally ill, and I want your last image of him to be the good one you’ve always had. So don’t make me turn you against him.”

  Lucy blinked. She held his gaze until the light turned green and then deflated back into her seat, crying until Scott thought he couldn’t take another second of it. Had he not been punished enough? Had he not atoned for his sins? Had he not spent twelve years hating himself, wishing he could undo the irrevocable damage? Of all the pain he had endured, this was by far the worst. He could bear the self-loathing and the sleepless nights, but listening to the hopeless cries of someone he loved and knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her pain was unbearable.

  His mind immediately trailed to Emily.

  * * *

  As the theme song of Passion’s Crest gained momentum and Fleur studied the results of the paternity test with shaking hands, the television screen faded to black. Julia leaned back against a sofa cushion and sighed. “Fridays are such a good cliffhanger,” she mused, smiling wistfully. “It was killing me to wait this long to catch up, but what choice did I have with how busy you’ve been lately. Out and about. Working. Dating...”

  “Hmm,” Emily said distractedly. She had long since stopped watching the clock, but her heart still seemed to register each passing minute with a sharp pang. Nine-thirty. The only relief she could garner was knowing that Julia wasn’t aware of the silent humiliation she was suffering all through the episode of Passion’s Crest.

  It wasn’t like her to keep secrets from Julia. After all, she wasn’t just her sister—she was her best friend, too. Sitting catty-corner from her now, Emily felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She wanted to just blurt out all the emotions she was keeping bottled up inside her, but for some reason she just couldn’t.

  Scott had stood her up. Tears stung her eyes and she held them back, feeling more angry than sad. She blinked furiously, pressing her lips tightly together. She had only herself to be upset with now. She had dared to open her heart, and once again, he had let her down.

  It was her own doing for pinning so much hope on one man. A man who had made her no promises. A man who had made it very clear that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. A man who had once told her he loved her and then disappeared.

  But then, Scott’s actions were never consistent with his words.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Emily glanced at her sister and forced a tight smile. “I’m just tired is all.”

  “Well, get some rest.” Julia sighed, flicking off the television. “I think I’ll take a shower and turn in early myself. It’s been a busy weekend.”

  Emily walked into her room and closed the door behind her. Her heart felt heavy, like deadweight wit
hin her chest. Pulling open the top drawer of her nightstand, she fished out the letter from the culinary school, not stopping to pause as she ran her finger through the small opening and tugged free the folded piece of paper enclosed. She read the letter impassively at first, but as the meaning of the words took hold and she processed their implications, she felt her pulse begin to race.

  They’d accepted her.

  A tapping at the front door caused her to jump guiltily, and she quickly stuffed the letter back into the envelope and into her drawer. Opening her bedroom door, she held her breath, listening for the sound she had just heard. There it was again—she hadn’t imagined it.

  Emily walked through the kitchen and opened the door, gasping when she saw Scott standing in the hall. His usually broad shoulders were slumped, his ash-brown hair tousled, and his eyes... Something was wrong.

  “Scott,” she breathed as anger left her body. “Is everything okay?”

  He shook his head. “My father’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh, no. Is he going to be all right?”

  Scott rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes were tired, and the frown seemed cemented into his squared jaw. “He’s in intensive care. Lucy’s there, with my mother. It’s just...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I should have called.”

  Emily stepped into the hall, dismissing his concerns with a wave of her hand. “No, no. I’m just sorry to hear about your dad. How are you holding up?”

  He managed a hint of a smile. “Not great.”

  She tipped her head. “Can I do anything for you?”

  He locked her gaze. “Some company would be nice.”

  She smiled and followed him down the hall to his room, waiting as he unlocked the door and flicked on the bedside light. The bed was made—poorly—and she recognized the stacks of paperwork and blueprints spread out on the little table where they had eaten their pie just a few nights ago.