a garden that made her salivate. The dining room was more elegant—wooden floors and a black dining room set that was decked out with cutlery and crockery that looked incredibly expensive.
‘This is not what I expected from you.’
‘Did you think I lived in a cold black and white room?’ He smirked as he said it, but his eyes grew serious when she nodded.
‘Something like that. This is a lot more...inviting than I expected.’
He looked around, as though seeing it for the first time. ‘It is, isn’t it? Though it’s wasted on me. I’ve barely spent any time here, and the decor was pretty much left to the interior designer I hired.’
‘Perhaps they decorated according to what they thought the house needed instead of thinking about its owner.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not sure if you just complimented me or insulted me.’
She laughed, and felt a bit of the tension of the day leave her. ‘I was only agreeing with you that this house needs to be somewhere people are invited to.’ She ran a hand over the kitchen counter. ‘It deserves a family.’
The words felt fatalistic as she said them, and although she knew why it felt that way for her, she wasn’t sure what the expression on Blake’s face meant.
Then it cleared and he smiled. ‘Well, you haven’t seen the second floor, where I spend most of my time. It’s a lot colder than this.’
He winked and she laughed.
‘Now, shall we have some supper?’
She nodded, and settled back on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. Though she wanted to offer her help, there was something about watching him go through the motions of making a meal that helped soothe the turmoil inside her. She also wanted to speak, to tell him of all that was going through her head, but she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt what seemed surprisingly easy for him. So she just sat and watched him—watched as he spiced the meat, seared it in a pan, and popped it into the oven.
He took out two wine glasses, poured a liberal amount of wine into each, and handed a glass to her.
‘Now, will you tell me what’s happening in that head of yours?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, but she didn’t look him in the eye.
‘Callie, come on. You and I both know you’ve been distracted today. We promised each other we would be open.’
She looked up at him when he paused, and felt alarm go through her as he clenched his teeth.
‘If this is because of Julia, then—’
‘What?’ she exclaimed, and then she placed her wine down and walked around the counter until she was in front of him. She brushed the piece of hair he should really have cut out of his face and kept her hand on his cheek for a moment. ‘No, Blake. This isn’t about Julia—or you.’
He took her hands and squeezed. ‘Then what’s wrong?’
She bit her lip and then she said, very softly, ‘Connor is going to be a father.’
* * *
Blake felt his eyebrows lift, and then carefully rearranged his features. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
She walked back around the counter, and Blake thought it might be symbolic, somehow, her placing an obstacle between them.
‘I mean, it isn’t the best thing that could happen to him right now, what with our jobs being on the line and him only knowing his girlfriend for six months...’
This time Blake didn’t try to hide his surprise, and Callie grinned at him.
‘That’s not like the man you thought you knew so well, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t.’ He looked up at her, and saw something in her eyes that prompted him to ask, ‘Or is it?’
‘I’m beginning to think it is.’
She lifted her wine glass slowly, not meeting his eye. And when she did, he saw a flash of pain that quickly settled into something he couldn’t quite identify.
‘I mean, not the getting-a-girl-pregnant thing. But the baby...’ She trailed off. ‘I think it helped Connor cope with my parents’ deaths when he had to help me.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked at him, then sighed. ‘Should we be making a salad, or something else to go with the steak?’
He didn’t respond, recognising her ploy, but walked to the fridge and started removing vegetables. He was glad he had made a visit to the shop the day before—he’d wanted steak and his conscience had guilted him into buying the ingredients for a salad. He’d have to do it more often if Callie visited regularly.
And then he stopped, remembering her earlier words about his house needing family, and something nudged at him. But he forced it away and handed her cherry tomatoes and an avocado to cut. Before he knew it—and, he thought, before she was ready—they were done.
‘Nothing left to distract you now,’ he said, and laid a hand on her cheek. ‘Tell me.’
She sighed again, walked back around the counter and sat down. Then she spoke without looking at him. ‘I just mean that family has always meant something to Connor. To both of us, really, but to him most of all. And when our parents died they left a void that we both felt.’ She paused. ‘I thought that we’d filled it for one another. But I think this baby is going to do it for him.’
Blake watched her as she spoke. Her shoulders were tight, and he realised that she was embarrassed by what she was saying. Suddenly it clicked.
‘And you’re going to be left alone?’
She didn’t look up at him, but he thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek.
‘Yeah, that’s it. Except that admitting it makes me sound selfish.’
Before she had finished speaking Blake pulled her into his arms. He wanted to comfort her—needed to, perhaps—because he was feeling less and less comfortable with what she was saying and he wasn’t sure why. So he focused on her, and said what he thought she needed to hear.
‘Callie, I know that Connor helped you get through your parents’ deaths. And you have every right to be grateful to him for that. But he isn’t the reason you got through it.’ He leaned back so he could look into her eyes. ‘You are.’
She blinked, and two more tears escaped from her eyes. ‘Connor did help me get through my parents’ deaths.’ She said it slowly, deliberately, as though trying to convince him of the fact.
‘I know he did. But just because he helped you, it doesn’t mean he’s the reason you made it through.’
He repeated it, stopping only to check how his words were affecting her.
‘Callie,
