Page 65 of Entwined
“I made dinner,” I said, changing the subject. “Beef stew.”
His eyes lit up. "Margaret’s recipe?"
I nodded. My mother had passed down her recipes to me, and I’d made a habit of using them. It was comforting in a way, grounding. “And fresh apple cake. It’s not lobster or caviar, but it’s good food for cold nights.”
Vaughn checked his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair again before pulling a sweatshirt from his bag. The sight of that suitcase in the corner reminded me he was planning to stay, fully prepared to camp out in Mystic until I forgave him. A part of me admired his persistence, but another part bristled at his confidence.
He followed me out of the bathroom and took a seat at the granite island in the kitchen. I ladled stew into a bowl and slid a plate of freshly baked bread toward him.
“This smells incredible,” he said, lifting the spoon to his mouth.
I smiled faintly, pleased with the compliment. I had grown used to cooking for myself these past months, taking care of everything without help—no chef, no maids, no one to rely on but me. It had been empowering, in a way.
“What did you do up here all this time?” Vaughn asked between bites.
I shrugged, leaning against the counter. “Everything I used to do before I got tangled up with your family. It’s not so bad getting your hands dirty.”
He raised an eyebrow, dipping a piece of bread into his stew. “We didn’t grow up so different, you know.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “Vaughn, we were worlds apart. You grew up in couture clothes, skiing during holidays, anddining in Michelin-star restaurants. I was in worn jeans, reading in my spare time, and cooking dinner for my family.”
He set his spoon down, looking at me seriously. “Joey… I should’ve asked you out back then. I mean, it worked for Logan and Simone. He was her first, you know that, right?”
I blinked, caught off guard. My brother had always been popular in high school, but I had no idea about him and Simone. “I didn’t know,” I admitted. “She wasn’t exactly nice to me in high school. When she graduated, I was relieved. But even then, the snubbing never stopped. I wasn’t wealthy, or part of the elite, but I did get a great education.”
Vaughn stood up slowly, moving around the counter toward me. My hand instinctively went to my belly as our son kicked, a reminder of everything that had changed.
He paused, eyes focused on my hand. “May I?”
I nodded, and he reached out carefully, resting his palm on my stomach. The baby kicked again, harder this time, and Vaughn’s brows shot up in surprise.
“He’s strong,” he murmured, a mixture of awe and something deeper in his voice. “A strong boy.”
“He’s an Ashworth,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.
Without warning, Vaughn leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes at the warmth of his lips, feeling them linger for just a second longer than necessary. I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve kept my guard up. But in that moment, with his hand on my belly and his lips on my skin, all the hurtand betrayal swirled together with the undeniable connection between us.
When he finally pulled back, I opened my eyes, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us. But the walls I’d built around my heart weren’t so easy to tear down.
“Vaughn, this doesn’t change anything,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “You still have a long way to go.”
He nodded, but his eyes held a quiet determination that made me uneasy. “I know. But I’m not giving up. Not on you, and not on our son.”
The tension between us thickened, unspoken words hanging in the air. I wasn’t sure what came next—whether we could ever bridge the chasm that had formed between us—but I knew one thing for certain.
Vaughn wasn’t going to let me walk away without a fight.
Chapter 25
The morning light filtered through the curtains as I padded down the hallway, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound in the quiet house. Vaughn had settled into one of the guest rooms, his presence still foreign, even though he’d been here a few days now. He set up shop in my office, running Ashworth Financial like it was just another day in the city. But this wasn’t the city, and he wasn’t just another houseguest.
I had to admit, it was nice to have the house to myself for the most part. Vaughn was quiet, leaving me to go about my business, and I spent most of my time working on the nursery. The soft, muted colors of the walls were soothing, a delicate contrast to the tension that simmered under the surface between us.
As I arranged a stack of baby clothes in the drawers, I tried not to think about the fact that Vaughn was just a few rooms away, undoubtedly scheming how to win me over.
The distant sound of a phone ringing pulled me from my thoughts. Vaughn’s voice, muffled but stern, carried from my office. He was in work mode—sharp, calculated, andprobably barking orders at some poor underling who’d screwed something up. I rolled my eyes and returned to folding onesies.
A while later, I made my way downstairs, the scent of simmering stew filling the air. I was almost enjoying this, the sense of normalcy, of reclaiming my space, even if Vaughn was part of it. I heard him moving around, his heavy footsteps echoing off the hardwood floors. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, his sleeves rolled up, a slight shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. It didn’t escape me that he was making an effort, even if I wasn’t sure what his endgame was.
