Page 66 of Silos and Sabotage

“I really mean it.” His expression darkened with so much pain that it was impossible not to believe him. “Avery, I have a question to ask you before my dad returns with the crème brûlée.”

As difficult as it was, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “What?” The word came out as breathy as a whisper.

“Can we finally stop being enemies?” He gently squeezed her fingers. “Now that we have Ella in our lives, it feels wrong to keep giving each other the cold shoulder.”

They’d been at odds for so long that she wasn’t sure she knew how to be anything else around him. However, he was right again. “Ella has certainly suffered enough at the hands of our two families.” A tear of regret slid free. “There are so many things I could’ve done differently. So many things I should’ve.”

He studied her enigmatically. “Someday, I’m going to ask you why you didn’t want to be a mother. Not tonight, though,” he added quickly when she started to protest. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Good ones.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. We’re not parting on this note.”

“Who said anything about parting just yet?” Hope glinted in his gaze. “My dad should be about finished with the dessert.”

“Please hear me out, Raleigh.” Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. “I wear a bullet scar on my ribcage that was intended for Ella while I was carrying her.”

He muttered something harshly beneath his breath that she couldn’t understand.

“It was one of many life-threatening incidents that Mick and I endured during our short-lived marriage. It was clear that someone didn’t want us together.”

“Who?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.” Another tear slid down her cheek. “I was so young, dumb, and scared. At the time, the only solution I could see was the dissolution of our marriage. It just about killed Mick. If I had to do it again…” She shook her head.

“Don’t.” Raleigh reached for her other hand. “Beating yourself up about the past never solves anything.”

“But I’ve made so many mistakes.” Her face crumpled. “I can see that now. I should’ve stayed with Mick and fought for our marriage. Although I remained in their lives from behind the scenes, it wasn’t the same as being present. I missed out on so much. I didn’t even realize my own child’s kidneys were failing her until Mick blew into town five years ago to whisk me to the hospital.” Without realizing what she was doing, her hand crept to her midsection.

Raleigh followed her gaze. “It was you!” His voice was infused with awe. “You’re her organ donor, aren’t you?”

Avery nodded weakly. “She’s my daughter. How could I have said no to that?”

“You couldn’t.” Raleigh slowly towed her back to the table. He passed up their previous spots and pulled out the chair for her at the head. “Sit.”

Though she didn’t see him do it, he must have somehow signaled his father. Creston reappeared with two white dessert bowls of the crème brûlée. A pair of raspberries graced the top of each one, along with a tiny sprig of green garnish.

“Thank you for staying, Avery.” He cast a worried look at her tear-stained cheeks as he served them with a flourish.

“This looks amazing. Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile for not commenting on her disheveled features. “Raleigh didn’t give me much choice.” She started to reach for her napkin, but Raleigh was already sliding a white monogrammed handkerchief into her hand. “He’s such a bully.” She wrinkled her nose playfully at him as she dried her tears with his handkerchief.

“I thought I raised you better, son,” Creston grumbled, but she could tell he was teasing.

Raleigh snorted as he claimed the seat to her left. “I’m not the one who attacked a perfectly innocent piece of crystal this evening.”

“I’m sorry.” Avery ducked her head over her dessert, breathing in its delectable scent. “I agree it was a little much.” It had been enormously satisfying, though, to vent her spleen like that. She’d kept so much bottled up inside her for so long.

Raleigh waited until his father left the room to fetch his own bowl of dessert before confessing, “I enjoyed every second of it.”

Her head came up. “Of watching me lose my temper?” It was a peculiar statement. She reached for her spoon.

He leaned her way. “It was nice to experience something besides your indifference.”

Her hand stilled on her spoon. “Are you flirting with me, Raleigh?” She hoped not, because she couldn’t think of any worse idea than getting involved with another Bolander. The last time she’d done it couldn’t have ended more disastrously. Her stomach knotted just thinking about it.

“I want to.” He picked up his own spoon and took a bite of the crème brûlée. “This is good. It always is. If running a granary hadn’t worked out for my dad, he could’ve easily opened his own restaurant.”

“I thought his chef made it.” She specifically recalled Creston saying so.

“He was only being modest. She creates most of the main courses. He creates most of the desserts, each one more divine that the last one.”

---