The front door felt so heavy as Channyon pushed it open and dropped her huge keyring in the bowl meant to catch all incoming debris. After two months of working with Karla doing things other than standing on a concrete floor, her feet ached and she was ready to eat something—preferably a tub of ice cream—and kick up her feet.
She turned to head to the kitchen when a very familiar laugh stopped her where she stood. Becker was back. She tiptoed in the kitchen and found a slender, white flowerpot with a graceful orange sherbet colored orchid.
Channyon had always considered orchids superior because of how difficult they were to grow and because their fragrance wasn’t overbearing. A note lay propped against the base of the pot with her name on it. The back of the card was blank but she knew who’d brought it—the only one in the house who could afford an orchid like that.
Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. Food now would send her into fits. Whole revolutions had been staved off by people who didn’t want to deal with injustice. Her situation was no different. She may have been the catalyst, but she didn’t have to be the gasoline, too. If she went in that room, she would have to deal with Becker and how they’d treated each other. They were getting on with their lives just fine without actually talking...
But were they really? He was there. He’d followed her. Eventually, if she’d come to the same conclusion on her own that she’d realized with her sisters at the beach, she’d have been unhappy too. They had to talk. Sometime.
“Channyon?” Becker’s soft baritone crept across the room and held her like a hug after a long absence.
How she loved him. He couldn’t have hurt her half as much if she didn’t. “Becker,” she answered. Still not sure how to broach the past.
“I hope I got the right one?” He didn’t move from where he stood by the door.
“You did. As usual, your ability to buy gifts is spot-on.” She touched a delicate petal.
“Karla tells me you’ve started working at the pizza place again.”
The small talk felt so out of place. They hadn’t talked, really talked, in almost a year. Yet, here he was, acting like her work schedule was important.
“Yeah, I want to be able to help while we don’t have anyone renting the Tidewater.” A small part of her rebelled and reminded her that she might be working there because she’d be leaving her sisters and following this man back home. Just as quickly she shoved that from her mind. A year stood between them and a lot of trouble.
Shock hit her like a wave. Where did he live now? Where would home be? “You sold the house.” She knew as much because he’d given her the money from the sale, which she’d then given to Karla for the Tidewater expansion. “Where are you living?”
He chuckled. “Nowhere currently. I rented a furnished apartment while I was at home finishing up my business. I ended that lease right before I came and put everything of mine in storage. Nothing is currently tying me there except a log of clients who may need me in the future and name recognition.”
That wasn’t something to just toss in the trash, either. He’d worked hard to make his name one of the best back home. “And how long do you plan to stay?” She couldn’t turn and look at him. If she did, she might see his eyes and be swayed by them.
“As long as it takes to understand what happened. At the very least I’ll be here until the construction is finished, so I can see my plans in real life.”
“I’ll give you twenty minutes.” The words slipped from her before she could stop herself. The hunger was speaking for her.
“Why don’t you sit for a minute and I’ll make you some chicken soup?” Becker’s hands appeared on her shoulders in a reassuring squeeze, then he turned her around and sat her at the center island.
“Karla doesn’t believe in canned soup. It’s not as easy as whipping out a pan and heating it.” She couldn’t control the grump who’d taken over.
Becker went to the fridge like he lived there and pulled out a frozen chicken breast from a resealable bag. Karla had ranted just the day before how companies could put organic chicken in a resealable plastic bag. Channyon didn’t care as long as it was easy.
He popped it in the microwave to thaw. “Shouldn’t take long.” He searched the cupboards and drawers for everything else he needed.
Just having Becker there again filled her with a strange mix of contentment and apprehension. She both loved being with him again and feared every word he said.
“I forwarded the plans for the Tidewater to Sawyer a few days ago. So I assume you’ve seen them?” He finished cutting the onion and carrots while he waited for the chicken.
“I didn’t really look at them. I know Aryn and Sonica have considered becoming full partners in the business, but I’m just here for the grunt work and to support my sisters.” Especially since they now thought she might take off any minute.
“So, you’re not interested in tying yourself to North Carolina?” He didn’t look at her as he pulled the chicken from the microwave, still mostly frozen, and cut it into pieces.
“I’m interested in helping my sisters. It doesn’t matter to me where they live.” Except it did matter some. She missed the home she’d made with Becker and as much as all the beaches were nice, the Outer Banks was too full of people.
“Don’t you think your sisters are old enough to manage without you?” His body moved slightly as he sautéed the chicken and vegetables.
With the exception of Sonica, they were all in their thirties. Probably well into the age when they didn’t need help, but it wasn’t always about need. “You weren’t here long enough to see the situation with Karla just two months ago. She absolutely needed us here.”
“And you, specifically?” he answered quickly.
She wasn’t sure if he was simply being a lawyer looking for a loophole, or if he was truly trying to understand the situation. “Is there a specific reason you’re asking?”
He set the spoon down and turned to face her. The sizzle from the pan was the only sound in the room for a full thirty seconds. “Channyon, I’m trying to understand what was so important that you had to not just leave me—because that was difficult enough—but you had to leave the state. Without telling me.”
All thought of hunger slipped away. Channyon pushed out of her chair and cradled her elbows as she fought for the right words. “I needed my space. You pushed harder than you should’ve. You…” She wanted to blast him. To accuse him of every last thing that had gripped her for months.
But the words wouldn’t come. He was a lawyer and slapping him with accusations was the quickest way to lose any argument. He’d only think faster on his feet than she could and she’d end up feeling like she shouldn’t have ever felt that way. It didn’t matter that he would apologize later for making her feel bad. By then it would be too late.
“I know I pushed you. I said and did some things when I was so driven that I regret.”
“Like?” She needed to hear it, to hear him say that he’d gone too far in asking her sister to be a surrogate.
He turned back to the stove. “Lots of things. I have regrets I’m working through. Especially now that all that I worked for has evaporated right before my eyes. Worthless to even bother.”
Was he talking about work, or them? She wasn’t sure. “Well, it must not be worthless or you wouldn’t be here.”
He added the chicken stock to deglaze the pan and Channyon couldn’t believe how well he seemed to know what he was doing. “When did you learn to cook?” She or Sonica had always cooked for him because he’d lived on frozen dinners before they’d married.
“When I thought I might someday be a father, I took a class thinking it would be good for me to know how to cook a few healthy meals for you while you were with the baby.”
But what about her sisters? They had lived in the same house. Wouldn’t he have assumed they would do it? “I’m sure Sonica or Aryn would’ve come to the rescue, if I’d ever been able to have children.” Especially since Sonica actually enjoyed cooking.
“If you’d been able to get pregnant, I’d planned to ask you if we could move and live nearby or maybe even buy a place in the country with a mother-in-law house for your sisters. I know you want them near…but I always wanted you. I knew your sisters were a package deal, but I thought…” He shrugged and poured the soup into a large bowl, then rinsed the pan.
“You thought a lot of things. You had a lot planned and didn’t bring it to me.” She’d never known he’d wanted to be away from her sisters, but then again, what married man didn’t want to be alone with his wife?
“I did. There were so many things that I hoped for. So many things that consumed my thoughts. I still dream about holding a child.” He held out his empty hands.
His sadness mirrored her own. The feeling of emptiness when her own arms longed to hold a child was more than she could share with anyone else. Or so she’d thought. Men weren’t supposed to feel the weight of a biological clock, but obviously he did.
“I’m not young anymore, Channyon. I look around and I see all I’ve made and all I’ve done and what does it matter? If I die tomorrow, I’ll have a full bank account and no one to leave it to. If I don’t do something, what mark will I leave on the world?”
There was more to life than just personal happiness, she’d figured that out when she’d arrived at her sister’s and realized her pain wasn’t going away. She could be happy and help her sisters and do the things they always did, but her pain was still there, knocking on the back of her mind and waiting for notice.
“I wish I knew. I wanted to run just a few days ago. I wanted to get away knowing you’d be coming back. But I didn’t.” She couldn’t give him the key to her hurt yet. It was too soon. She’d only just discovered it herself. “I stayed to see if we could work this out.”
He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her. “Do you think there’s a chance? Because if there is, you’ve got my undivided attention.”
Somehow, those words hit her harder than “I love you.” “I’ll work to fix the problem” was infinitely harder than I love you, anyway. “I think, if we both step out of our way and try to understand the other person, we can.”
He brought the bowl over and set it at her seat, then got some oyster crackers and laid the bag and a spoon next to her bowl. He always remembered that oyster crackers were her favorite, above saltines. Even her sisters didn’t remember that.
“How do you know me so well?” And how had he managed to forget so much when he’d been focused on a child?
“When you think about someone constantly, you remember as much as they’ve ever told you. You hold onto every word that you can possibly recall.” He leaned on the counter across from her. “The bad and the good. I’m sure it’s been the same for you.”
She chuckled, finally feeling a release from the heavy weight of Becker’s return. “Are you insinuating I was thinking about you?”
“Well, I had hoped so.”
He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, especially since he was quite a few years older than her. But that made him more attractive to her. He knew himself. There wasn’t any showboating or fake chest pumping. Becker was a man who didn’t need to act, his simple comfort in his own skin, coupled with his intelligence, was very sexy to her. It had been from the day they’d met.
“I did think about that day Aryn ‘introduced’ us.” She held in a giggle because it was far from an introduction.
He rolled his eyes. “Worst day in the world.”
Aryn had been at the police station after she’d been assaulted by her then-fiancé. She’d called Becker because he was, among other things, a personal injury lawyer and well-off enough to run memorable commercials. They’d both arrived at the same time and fought over who would talk to her first.
“At least you took my card.” He laughed. “I was worried you’d punch me in the face.”
“I thought about it.” She sipped the hot soup and though she’d never seen him cook before, it was good.
“I don’t doubt it, now that I know you. I’m sure the only thing that held you back was that if you were arrested, you couldn’t take care of Aryn.”
More truth. More memories. Aryn had learned a lot from that awful relationship and hadn’t seriously dated since, unless you counted her current fling with the gardener. Channyon giggled aloud.
“What’s so funny?” Becker’s honey brown eyes stared into hers.
“Aryn is always finding herself in interesting situations. She’s currently flirting with the gardener. Which sounds so much more delicious than it really is.”
He laughed. “Do I need to hire you a pool boy? I suppose we’d have to add a pool to those plans, then a pool boy would be next.”
Channyon laughed, unable to keep it in. “I’m not so sure about a pool boy in a family-friendly inn.”
“Oh, I’m sure pool boys are family friendly. Lots of families have probably been started by pool boys.” He rolled his eyes.
The comfortable banter felt so welcome, yet so strange. “Well, hopefully we don’t have to worry about that with this gardener. I don’t think Aryn will go that far. She likes fun, but she’s not so big on commitment. Not since Jager.”
He nodded. “Well, Jager went to jail and the restraining order is still in effect for another year.”
“And we live in another state.” She figured pointing that out was important.
“That you do.” He suddenly got serious again. “And now we’re back to where we started.”
Channyon swallowed hard and swirled her spoon around her bowl. “That we are. You don’t understand how broken Karla was. You don’t understand what she’s still going through. Her husband is a first-class jerk.”
“She has good representation and two other sisters,” he pointed out.
Channyon bit her lip then finished the last bite of soup. “She does…but they aren’t me.”
Becker seemed to deflate. “So you’re not going to say any more than that? You’re staying and we’re still not talking? Not really.”
She brought her bowl to the sink and ran hot water and soap over the dishes. “Becker, I want to talk to you. I want to bring all this out in the open. But you’ve got to start this discourse. The problem, all this, started with you.”
He shook his head slowly and tensed his body. “I don’t see that. We were fine, talking, planning. Then you got angry, shut me out of your head, then walked away.”
He threw up his hands. “Please, tell me how that’s my fault?”