Page 23 of A Taste of Whiskey
He found Sasha standing at the counter in those sexy shorts, wearing one of his zip-up hoodies, eating a piece of the spinach and feta spanakopita he’d made Sunday night.
She looked over, cheeks full, eyes wide, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Hi. I thought you were going out for a drink with the guys.”
“I decided to come home instead.”
She glanced at the last bit of spanakopita left on her plate. “I hope you don’t mind that I dug into this.”
He loved that she helped herself to his things without feeling a need to apologize. “Do I ever mind?”
“No, thank God, because you really outdid yourself. This is the best thing you’ve ever made. Want a bite?” She held up a forkful.
Either he was seeing what he wanted to, or she was looking at him with a seductive glimmer in her eyes. Either way, it drew him closer. He put his hand over hers, guiding the fork into his mouth.
“So good, right?”
I can think of something much tastier.“It’s not bad.”
“Bullshit,not bad.” She poked him with the fork, then ate the last piece. “Delicious.Other than the whole inability-to-bake thing, you’re going to make someone a great husband one day.”
He couldn’t bake worth shit. He burned cookies every time he tried to make them for Gus. “I think I’ve already proven otherwise.”
“I call bullshit again.”
He hadn’t given his all to Tina or their marriage, but he wasn’t about to get into that. “How was Gus tonight?”
“Good. We had fun. We took a walk and played guitar and Legos and colored. He asked me if I would sleep over again.”
“My boy has good taste.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” she said with a sweet smile.
“Did he say anything about his mother?”
She shook her head. “He never does, but as always, he said he was excited to see Daddy in the morning.”
“Really?” That made him feel good all over.
“Yes. I’ve told you that before. And as far as Tina goes, youknowhow I feel about her. She doesn’t deserve either of you.”
She was as protective of him as she was of Gus, and he fucking loved that about her, too.
“I know it’s none of my business,” she said as she carried her plate to the sink and began washing it. “But I still don’t understand why you continue to allow her to see Gus when she lets him down all the time.”
“I allow it because I don’t want him to feel like I did when my mother left.”
She set the dish and her fork in the dish drainer and turned to face him. “You’ve never really told me how you felt, but I can imagine how awful it was. I would’ve been devastated if my mother took off and left me behind, not knowing where she went or why.”
“I told you I was fucked up for a long time.”
“Yes, and you told me it was a big part of why you were so rebellious, but that doesn’t tell me how youfelt. I care about you and Gus, and I want to understand what you’re really trying to protect him from.”
He hated admitting to what had felt like a weakness for so many years. As a trained therapist, he knew it wasn’t a weakness but a trauma response he’d dealt with and overcome years ago. But that didn’t take away the unease of sharing it with a woman he admired, or the fact that given her relationship with Gus, she had a right to know.
“A mother is supposed to love her kids unconditionally, above everything else, the way your mother does. When mine left, she made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of that kind of love, and my father shutting down and shutting me out didn’t help.”
“I think that’s how anyone would feel in that situation. I’m so sorry you felt like that.”
She hugged him, and he soaked in her comfort. But she felt too damn good, and when she looked up at him with warmth in her eyes and said, “I hope you know you’re worthy of the best kind of love,” it felt like an invitation, and he forced himself to step back.
