Page 95 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“I nearly burned down the kitchen. Smoke everywhere; the fire department showed up, and that’s that. My mom was furious, but my aunt just laughed and said it was time to teach me properly.”
“Is that when you learned to cook?”
“That’s when I learned to respect the kitchen. The actual cooking came later.”
I nestled deeper into his warmth, listening to the rain against the windows and the soft crackle of the fire. “What about you?” he asked. “What were you like as a little girl?”
“I was a serious little girl. My parents used to worry that I didn’t play enough.”
“Why were you so serious?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because my dad was away so much when he was deployed. I felt like I needed to be responsible and help my mom.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for a kid.”
“I didn’t mind it. I liked feeling useful, like I was contributing.”
“Is that why you wanted to be a teacher? To help people?”
“Maybe. I loved the idea of making a difference, of helping kids learn and grow.” I paused.
“That’s similar to why I wanted to be a chef. Food brought people together. Every Sunday, my whole family would gather at my aunt’s house for dinner. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors—it didn’t matter. There was always enough food, and enough room at the table. I wanted to carry on that tradition but for all households, not just my own.”
“I feel that when you cook for me, warm and welcomed.”
Christian pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s what I was going for.”
“Yeah… you might not have been a chef but at least you didn’t abandon your college experience for other pursuits.”
His brows rose. “You can’t just end with that and not elaborate.”
I smirked. “I was valedictorian of my high school class but turned down a full scholarship to Harvard because my father had just returned from his last deployment and needed surgery. My entire life could’ve been different, but I stepped into a moremature role, learning to change a tire, doing my own oil change, and fixing other mechanical issues under the hood.”
“I helped my mom with her car by doing this. If I sound full of regret, that’s not what I’m trying to get across. Again, I loved to help, but I still wonder what could’ve been. Then I grew up, and my ex came along. That was a disaster. My friends, Journey and Frankie, came over constantly, brought me food, and forced me to shower. But I was so ashamed. I felt like such a failure.”
“You weren’t a failure. You were grieving.”
“For a marriage that was never real in the first place.”
“That doesn’t make the grief any less valid.”
The understanding in his voice made tears sting my eyes.
“I don’t want to be that woman again,” I whispered.
“You won’t be. You’re not the same person you were then.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that woman wouldn’t have had the courage to tell me she was mine. She would still be hiding from moving forward. You’re not hiding anymore.”
He was right. Sitting here in his arms, in his clothes, in his space, I wasn’t hiding. For the first time in years, I was completely present, completely open, completely myself. But I could admit, there was a piece of me who wanted to retreat before this became another mess I’d have to clean up.
Outside, the storm raged on, but inside, wrapped in Christian’s arms by the dying fire, I was where I belonged.
Chapter
Twenty-One
