Page 10 of Finding Home with You

I smile and press a kiss to her cheek, pulling her against me. I know she’s changing the subject in an attempt to move the conversation away from her. It annoys me, but in this moment, I let it go, knowing she needs it. “This tiny little place in Maine called Eddington,” I say instead.

“Never heard of it,” she says, her head falling back against my shoulder. “Guess that’s why you moved to Boston, huh? Wanted more of the big city life?”

I take a sip of my beer before I admit something to her that I’ve never told anyone else before. “Actually, I always saw myself moving back someday, or at least to somewhere like it. The city is great and there’s never a shortage of things to do, but long term I always saw myself settling down in a coastal town.”

Erin turns to look at me and I can see the shock on her face. “Really?”

I smile as I lean in and kiss her lips. “Really.”

“But what would you do?” she asks.

I take another sip of beer. “Find a wife, have some kids. Maybe open a little restaurant or something,” I say, not really sure why I’m telling her all of this. Maybe a part of me is opening up to her in the hopes that she’ll do the same to me. Erin’s always been so guarded and I hope that by admitting these things to her now, she understands that she can confide in me too.

I can also tell she’s shocked by what I’ve just admitted to her, especially when she doesn’t say anything more. I’ve learned it takes a lot to shut this woman up, and somehow, my admission has done it. “Not what you expected, Red?” I ask, running my fingers through her half-dry hair.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I always thought I was the only one who chose to leave the big city for a small town.”

I smile before pressing a kiss to her hair. “Guess we’re more alike than you thought.”

Erin doesn’t say anything, just leans her head against my shoulder. We finish our beers in silence and when I turn to suggest we start on the cupcakes, I see she is now fast asleep. I gently take the beer from her hand and slide my body out from under her. Laying her down on the couch, Erin lets out a deep sigh and for the first time since I got here, I see her fully relax.

I stand for a second, just watching her sleep. As I do, a strange feeling starts up in my chest. I don’t know what it is and I’m not really sure I’m prepared to work it out, so I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek before walking into the kitchen.

I grab another beer from the fridge before looking through the shopping bags. I smile when I see what she’s bought, suddenly eternally grateful for all the cooking lessons Mom made me endure as a kid. Growing up with three sisters was never an excuse for me to stay out of the kitchen. Mom was always determined to make sure I knew how to treat a woman.

“Cooking, Ryan, is the easiest way to win them over. No woman likes it when a man assumes she’s going to be the one making dinner every night.”

I’d rolled my eyes, but stuck with it, and in the end, I realized not only was she right, but I actually enjoyed it.

Not that I’d cooked for many women since then. Even though I knew how, strangely enough, I’d never found one I’d wanted to cook for. Until now.

Shaking my head, I turn on the oven and get started on the cupcakes. By the time they’re cooling on a wire rack, I’ve opened another beer, checked on Erin and am listening to the basketball game on the radio.

When I’m finally done, it’s after midnight. So I pack everything up and quickly clean the kitchen before walking into the living room. Erin is still dead to the world, so I gently pick her up and carry her down the hall to her bedroom. Sliding into bed beside her, I pull her into my arms, smiling as she lets out a deep, contented sigh.

Then I close my eyes and go to sleep.

The next morning, I wake to nails scratching across my stomach and Erin scrambling from the bed.

“Fucking shit fuck!” she yells, arms and legs flying everywhere.

“Babe, what is it?” I ask, sitting up and reaching for her.

“The fucking cupcakes,” she says, hair wild as she turns to face me. “I forgot to make the cupcakes. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

I smile, brushing the hair back from her face. “Relax, I took care of it.”

“What?!” she practically shouts.

I fall back onto the pillow, tugging on her arm so she’ll come with me. “I said, I took care of it. Now, how about you come over here.”

But Erin resists, scrambling from the bed and running from the room. I hear her the second she hits the kitchen, the “Holy shit,” reaching me all the way in the bedroom. I chuckle at her surprise as I lay here, hands behind my head, waiting for her to come back. A few seconds later, she’s standing in the door in my Red Sox t-shirt, bed hair and one foot propped against her knee.

“You made my cupcakes,” she says, her voice quiet.

I smile at her. “I did.”

“Why?” she asks.

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