Page 15 of The Merger
She runs a hand through the air. “Oh, that’s your great-grandma’s pot roast recipe. I found it stuck in a book when I was setting up the den. Your dad can’t get enough of it.”
Her laughter fills the cozy entryway.
Aurora is hard to dislike, and sadly, I’ve tried. Life would be so much easier if she were despicable. Instead, she’s beautiful and kind—a true double whammy. Thanks to a late-night detective session that Tate unwillingly participated in, I know she’s forty and works as a cosmetologist at a downtown salon. I also discovered she was a cheerleader for a professional football team in her early twenties.
I can’t help but wonder if we met under different circumstances if we’d be friends.
“Kent called, and he’s running late,” Aurora says, leading me into the kitchen. “He should be home soon. Would you like a drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?”
“I’d love a glass of wine, actually.”
“Of course. I just found a red from New Zealand that I’m obsessed with. Do you like red wine? I have white if not.”
“After the day I’ve had, I’ll take anything.”
She flashes me a perfect smile before selecting a bottle from her wine cooler. “Sounds like you had a more interesting day than I did.”
“I don’t know what your afternoon consisted of, but mine included a driver’s license, spilled matcha latte, and cleavage.”I still can’t believe I offered to show Gannon my cleavage.“Let’s just say it wasn’t my most graceful afternoon.”
“I was right. Your afternoon was more interesting than mine.” She laughs. “Mine consisted of a pot roast—not this one, floor wax, and lots and lots of tears.”
Tears?“Oh no. I’m sorry. That sounds bad.”
She winces. “It was. I slipped on the floor wax while carrying the roast and fell. Hard. I have an ugly bruise down the right side of my back. I’m hoping this wine will help take the edge off.”
“I have some pain reliever in my car. Do you want me to get it?”
Her eyes soften. “You’re too sweet. I took something a couple of hours ago. As long as I keep moving, I’ll be okay. It’s when you stop that everything freezes up.”
“This is why you shouldn’t wax your floors. That’s one step too far.”
“Your father likes them shiny, and I wanted them to look nice for you.”
We exchange a smile.Yeah, we’d be friends if she wasn’t married to my dad.
She holds her glass up in the air. “Let’s toast to our coordination. May tomorrow be a better day.”
“Let’s hope,” I say, touching my glass to hers.
Aurora takes a sip and then sets her drink gently on the counter. “I know you just got here, and I hate to do this, but your father got ready in the bathroom down here this morning, and I’ve been moving a little slow today. Would you mind me excusing myself to give the counters a quick wipe?”
I set my glass down, too. “Let me do it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You literally fell this morning. I?—”
“It’ll take me a minute, and then I won’t worry that you’ll need to use the bathroom and see the mess.”
“Aurora, really. Please let me help you. Or just leave the mess, and I promise not to use the bathroom.”
She moves around the corner of the bar. “Please, you’re our guest. Enjoy your wine. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home, Carys.”
Make yourself at home. That’s something that’s never been said at Dad’s house before.
We exchange a small, simple smile before she disappears down the hallway. It’s … nice.
Once she’s gone, the kitchen is too quiet, and I feel too uncomfortable to sit still. The pot roast—apparently a family favorite—is too fragrant, and the idea of it is too heavy.How did I never know this?Did no one think that maybe my great-grandma’s actual descendant would want a copy?
