Page 53 of Hiding Rose
Chapter Fifteen
We sat on the front of Niko’s boat, the new appliances loaded and our trip back to Maui nearly complete. “I can’t believe we paid over fifteen grand for the appliances,” I lamented. “Gideon is going to have a cow,” I said for the tenth time since yesterday afternoon.
He rolled his eyes to the sky. “We already talked to him and he okayed it. Gideon knows what it costs to run a business, but he also knows it’s important to buy quality or you’ll be buying it again in a year when it breaks.”
“I suppose, but man, three grand for a microwave?” I shivered, and he laughed.
“I’ll have you know the microwave we bought is like the Cadillac of microwaves. It steams the food and does it fast.”
I held up a finger. “And it’s programmable with a flash drive, so even I can’t burn stuff.”
He laughed and leaned over, kissing my lips. “You joke, but I know you’re capable of cooking the basics. The convection oven I picked up will be a lifesaver for both of us, since we have to plan meals that are easy to make, and meals kids will eat.”
“I agree, and I’m mostly giving you a hard time, even though I do think it’s outrageous cost wise. I know we have to have it. I loved how you thought about the kids with the fridges.”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean? Of course you need fridges.”
I laughed, my head tossed backward to soak up the warm January sun. “I mean when you told the salesman we should have one metal fridge so the kids can use magnetic letters on it, and one see through fridge so the kids could see their healthy food choices like juice, fruit, and vegetables. You’re going to make a great dad someday. Especially if you put as much love and care into their meals as you do when you feed me, which you’re always doing, by the way.”
Last night after we finished shopping he took me back to Orchid Reef Resort, sat me down in the private dining room, and cooked our meal with the chef in the kitchen. He brought out a beautiful meal of Hawaiian spiny lobster grilled with garlic butter, and salad with avocado buttermilk dressing. The lobster was sweet and savory, and I may have slurped a few times while eating. The salad made of fresh greens and topped with celery strips, green onions, water chestnuts, pineapple, sesame seeds, cucumber, baby carrots, and grape tomatoes was almost a meal in itself, so I was thankful we shared the plate, rather than each having our own. Executive Chef Winehouse was very accommodating and seemed to truly enjoy the time he and Sawyer spent together.
Sawyer clasped my hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. “I feed you because I love you. It’s my job to cook food, it’s true, but when I cook for you, it’s more a mission of love. I try to perfectly balance the food I feed you, to strengthen your muscles and add some weight to your frame in a healthy way.”
I shifted in my chair, attempting to straighten my leg more before it spasmed. “You think I’m too thin?”
He stared off over the water for a few moments before he answered. “I’m not you, and you know how you are most comfortable in your skin.”
I chuckled. “Very diplomatic, Sawyer.”
He shook his head a few times. “I’m not trying to be diplomatic. I want you to know I love you regardless of how much you weigh. Do I want to feed you and strengthen your body? Absolutely, because I can see how the recovery has taken a toll on you. You’re run down and weary. Am I right?”
I sighed. “You’re right. I’ve lost over thirty pounds, and no matter how much I eat, I can’t keep the weight on. The doctors told me I would burn more calories than I used to now, and they must be right. I’m not hungry a lot of the time either, which probably works against my efforts.”
He slipped his hand across my cheek and cupped my neck, drawing me closer to him. “Why aren’t you hungry?” he asked, his lips tasting mine.
When he stopped kissing me long enough to answer, I did. “I’m sure it’s a combination of my medications, depression, fear Jarrett will find me, and pain.”
He rested his head on my forehead. “I wish I could make all of this go away for you. It makes my heart clench to hear you say you’re depressed and in pain.”
I slipped my right hand up to his cheek and rubbed his temple with my thumb. “You’ve helped,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the yacht plowing through the water. “You remind me I have a new life now and I can stop living the old one. Even if Jarrett is on the loose, one day he’ll be captured and out of my life for the most part.”
“For the most part?” he repeated, turning it into a question.
My hand strayed to the pendant resting on my chest. “I’ll always be tied to him because of my baby, and in a way, my injury. I don’t want to forget about my baby, even if its father is a maniac. The baby was part of me, and one day I want to tell my children about their baby brother or sister in heaven. Does that sound melodramatic or corny?”
His head swayed back and forth as our eyes locked. “It sounds like something a mother who loved her child would say,” he answered. “You get to feel any way you want to feel about the events of the past year, and if keeping yourself centered on your baby helps you get from one day to the next, then I don’t think that’s melodramatic or corny at all.”
I bit my lip and nodded a few times. “I’m doing okay. I know it seems like I’m focused on the baby right now, but if things hadn’t gone the way they had, I would now be holding him in my arms. Now that my due date has passed, I hope it’s easier to let the anger and sadness go. I’ll never forget, but I also don’t want to become a bitter woman who can’t see the future because she’s stuck in the past.”
“You’re doing better than okay. You’re doing fabulous, even if you don’t think you are. The rest of us see how hard you work and your dedication to Kate and the resort. No one wants you to forget about your child. He or she was part of you. Did you have a name in mind?” he asked out of the blue.
I cocked my head. “A name? For the baby?”
He nodded. “I was thinking maybe you should give the baby a name. I know you don’t know if it was a boy or a girl, but I think a name would be better than saying ‘the baby’ all the time. Using a name makes he or she real, and lets them live in our memory as an abstract personality rather than an unnamed memory.”
I held his face in my hands. “I still think it was a boy.”
He smiled and fought against my hands to kiss my lips. His tenderness made me want to cry and hug him at the same time. “They say mothers can sense those things, so let’s choose a boy name?” I shifted uncomfortably and stared over his shoulder, until he tipped my chin back to lock gazes. “Did I say something wrong? You don’t have to name him. It was only an idea.”
