Page 114 of The Making of Marnie Jones

She tilted her head. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. As you said, I'm tired.” He rubbed his hand across his stubble-covered jaw. “If I can't cook for you…”

“Pizza.” She managed a grin. Obviously she’d be entertaining him until Olivia came home and, despite everything, she felt safe with him here. He’d never hurt her, so she might as well play gracious hostess. “I haven't had pizza in weeks.”

Relief flooded his expression. “Pizza I can do.”

She headed to the phone. “There’s a great little pizza place that delivers. Not as good as your gem, but close enough. I'll call them.”

Order placed, she returned to find him wandering around the living room.

His gaze stopped on a trio of photographs taken two months ago during the impromptu fashion show. “They look good.” He gestured a wide arc, encompassing all the shots. “Nicely displayed as well.”

“An amateur job, but it serves its purpose.”

“I was complimenting you, Marnie.” His eyes narrowed. “Please don't twist my words. Allow me to pay you a compliment now and again.”

Appropriately chastised, she ducked her head. She always questioned his kind words—never believing them to be true. “Well, thank you.”

“Please, tell me how things are going.” His entreaty held both concern and curiosity.

She waved him to a seat.

He sat, stretched, and draped his arm across the back of the sofa. Even in this room of peach walls and flowery patterns, he was at ease.

She envied that. “Olivia has been adapting well. Perhaps a little too well.” Her hands twisted in her lap.

“What does that mean?”

“She's been striving to be the perfect houseguest. She lives as if she's on probation. Tonight, she finally admitted she's waiting for me to find some fault with her so I can send her back to Toronto.” The scene replayed in her mind. Had she handled it appropriately? She dreaded making irrevocable mistakes. “I ought to have seen it sooner and reassured her that I have no intention of letting her go. She’s become like a sister to me. The best friend I always wanted. I hate we were brought together under such horrific circumstances, but that does nothing to diminish my feelings for her. If anything, it intensifies them. We also agreed that although we both love horses and riding, we’re both ready for more intensive therapy.” Finally, she drew a breath.

“What’ll that entail?”

“Most likely some form of talk therapy. For me at least, I need to work on behavior modification. I'm not living the life I want to live.”

He was about to reply when the doorbell interrupted him.

While he paid the driver, she arranged plates and sodas.

They sat at the table and ate in silence.

When the pizza had been consumed, Jake ventured to speak. “Apparently Olivia is struggling with cooking.”

“She told you?” Marnie stood, taking the plates into the kitchen. “I try to help, but she’s determined to go it alone. I remember my own disasters as I learned, but I think, from now on, she's going to be more receptive to my help.”

He took the drinks into the living room where she rejoined him.

She sat on the sofa, legs curled under her.

“You said you weren't living the life you wanted to. What did you mean by that?”

Trust him to pick up on her momentary lack of discipline where she admitted something she always tried to keep hidden. She closed her eyes, fighting self-pity. “I guess I was trying to say although I’ve made some progress, I need to make more. Lester Ulster is dead, and yet I live like he's around every corner, about to snatch me. I can't live like that anymore.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

His brow raised, giving him a pensive expression. “Have you ever talked about that day?” At her frown, he added, “the day you won your freedom.”

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