The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(77)
“What about you?” Ethan asks. “Any progress with the grocery store offer?” He takes another bite of cake.
“Not yet,” I admit. I’d spoken to Matt DeSalvo twice last week, rather disappointed when he didn’t offer to meet face-to-face so I could see if he really looked as much like Jimmy as I thought. “There’s still a lot to talk about. But I’ll probably take it.”
“I thought you weren’t sure you wanted to bake bread,” Ethan comments.
“I’m not. But it’s better than going bankrupt.” There’s a splotch of mustard on my jeans, and I scratch it idly. “And,” I admit, “it’s a way of becoming someone, you know? It’d be nice to write into the Johnson & Wales alumni magazine and say my bread’s distributed statewide. And Matt said maybe we’d go into Connecticut and Massachusetts, too. So.” I look up at Ethan. “A nice offer.”
He nods. “This cake is fantastic,” he says. “Try some.”
“I don’t—” I begin, but he leans forward and pops a chunk into my mouth. The rich, velvety texture of the dark chocolate melts on my tongue, and the hazelnut frosting is like a bit of divine perfection. It was a great idea to roast…roast the…
“Well?” Ethan says, then notices my expression. “Lucy?”
“It’s…it’s good,” I stammer. And it is. And I can taste it. I swallow. Yes, there’s the hint of coffee, just the slightest murmur of cinnamon.
“Here,” Ethan says. He smiles as he feeds me the last piece, and I close my eyes and concentrate. The cake is so good, Ethan’s right. I can’t believe I can finally, finally enjoy my own baking again after such a long time. Something that was gone has come back, something that was part of my daily life for a long, long time, something I’ve missed so much. But now, today…today, I can once again appreciate something I made with my own hands, that I made with attention and care for the man in front of me, and to be able to have that back…
My eyes are wet when I open them. Ethan’s smile drops.
“Are you okay, honey?” he asks, and with that, I reach out and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, tasting chocolate and Ethan, his gentle, beautiful mouth, the heat of him. His arms go around me, one hand cupping the back of my head. And I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, feeling his heart beat against mine.
I pull back and look into his eyes. His gaze drops to my mouth, and he pushes a piece of my hair off my face.
“Make love to me, Ethan,” I whisper, and he stands and gives me his hand.
The sunlight comes in patches through the little windows that line the cabin. Ethan pulls the couch out, then straightens, not saying anything. I sit down, and he kneels before me. I touch his cheek, then unbutton his shirt with shaking fingers. His skin is beautiful, olive and smooth, the muscles hard underneath. I press my palm over his heart, feel the reassuring beat there, steady and constant. Just like Ethan. Then I look at him, into eyes made of gold and brown, like fallen leaves in a clear stream.
Then he leans in closer so that our foreheads touch. “You sure, honey?” he asks
“Yes,” I whisper, and his mouth is on mine. His hand slides under my T-shirt and cups my breast, and my breath catches. He tastes so good, feels like heaven and I can’t believe I’ve waited so long for this. His mouth moves to my neck, a hot jolt shudders through me, and I sink into the bed, the sun hot on my skin, and give myself away.
And I realize that despite my intentions, I’ve fallen in love after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
IT’S MUCH COLDER WHEN WE HEAD BACK…the sky clouded up while we were in the cabin, the ocean turning slate and choppy. We don’t talk much; Ethan is fairly busy negotiating the rough waves around Point Judith and adjusts the sail frequently. We keep a fast clip, bouncing over the waves, and I watch my captain warily as I grip a cleat, spray stinging my face, and worry that my grim fantasies of Ethan’s death will come true as we whisk and smack through the water.
Everything’s gonna be all right, everything’s gonna be all right…Everything’s gonna be all right… It’s not lost on me that this snippet of Bob Marley was my mantra after Jimmy died. But every time Ethan looks at me, so damn happy, fear strikes my heart. Don’t let me hurt him, Jimmy, I pray. Abruptly the thought comes to me that maybe Jimmy isn’t all that happy that my heart has opened to someone else. That maybe he wants to be the first, the best, the most. Forsaking all others, all the days of my life, that’s how the marriage vows went. And being widowed…that’s not like Jimmy betrayed me. He didn’t ruin my love for him. He just died.
I try to imagine how it would be if my soul had to watch Jimmy struggle through life without me. Of course I’d want him to find someone wonderful. But, I admit, clutching my stomach as we bounce over the wake of a lobster boat, I’d also want to be the love of his life. To be the one by which all others were measured.
“Doing okay?” Ethan calls over the rush of wind.
“I’m great,” I answer, determined to make it true.
When we finally make it back to the marina, I can’t wait to be on solid land again. Ethan looks at me as he wraps the line around a cleat. “You look a little green,” he says, taking my hand as I rise. “Want me to drive you home?”