Page 132 of Things We Burn

“He’s also likely seen a mirror,” she countered. “So he knows he’s hot. And it means good things for your child, because you’re hot too. Not that her worth is tied to her looks.”

I rolled my eyes good naturedly at my sister.

Her face turned serious as she looked back to Kane. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For calling my mom, for bringing us here and braving her wrath.” She jerked her head to me “We would’ve been heartbroken if we missed this.”

The air in the room became heavy. There was no blame or guilt weaved into my sister’s tone. She didn’t have a malicious bone in her body and wasn’t trying to make me feel bad.

Yet I felt bad nonetheless.

Feeling the warmth in the room, smelling the scents of Maisie’s perfume, Mom’s cooking, the ocean air, I struggled to find all the reasons why I’d pushed them out of my life.

Except the reasons never had anything to do with either of them. It was me. I’d changed. Because of Kane. Because of this baby.

I had a family now.

Whether I liked it or not.

And I did, like it. Which was the scariest thing of all.

Twenty-One

Even though Kanewas sure Mabel was going to surprise us all by coming before her due date, there was no havoc or drama, no water breaking in the middle of a restaurant, no baby born in the car on the way to the hospital.

No, on the night of my induction, there was a dinner at home, one I made even though Mom and Maisie fought me on it.

“It’s the last thing I’ll be able to take my time cooking,” I argued to them.

And Kane, usually—infuriatingly—on their side with most things pertaining to my ‘care,’ sided with me.

“You got this, Chef,” he said, kissing my neck.

He was doing that more lately. Easy affection, affectionate tones. He wasn’t punishing me anymore. Although he hadn’t truly punished me since that first night. Maybe I was punishing myself.

Whatever it was, we were still tiptoeing around each other in a way. Relearning each other. I wasn’t Avery Hart, chef, anymore. And for the time, it seemed Kane was no longer Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes either.

Through some miracle of fate, no one here had taken photos of him, posted anything. The media hadn’t found him yet, and I knew they were looking because there were articles online.

I shouldn’t have read them. I hadn’t in the past, knowing they were toxic. Yet now, for whatever reason, in the rare moments I wasn’t with Kane or my mother or Maisie, I was scrolling through the articles.

Kane Rhodes out of prison, conviction overturned… But where is he now?

Mixed reception on Rhodes’s release from prison. Did he deserve to get out?

DuBois, currently under investigation for sexual violence charges, has ‘no comment’ on Rhodes’s release.

Has Avery Hart, the Ice Queen, managed to put Kane’s fire out? Where has he gone?

The respite wasn’t permanent. Some determined reporter would find him. Someone would leak his location. Or he’d go back for an event, a game, the freaking Olympics for all I knew. Kane was a thrill seeker to his core, so he couldn’t stay in Jupiter indefinitely.

That reality hung in my head too. My career, as I knew it, was over. There weren't any twelve-hour days at a restaurant. No more commanding a kitchen … or my life, for that matter.

And I didn’t know how I felt about that. I knew I already loved Mabel more than anything, that I wouldn’t change mysituation for the world, but the unknown future ahead of me made my throat uncomfortably tight.

“My only request is that I be sous chef,” Kane murmured, bringing me out of my thoughts and into the present.

The present being a kitchen in Maine, with my mother and sister sipping wine at the breakfast bar, the ocean air blowing in, Kane Rhodes next to me, a baby kicking in my belly and a midnight admission to have the aforementioned baby.

“Sous chef?” I craned my neck to examine him.

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