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He wipes his brow, but then smiles. “Yeah, I’m fine, really. Do you need any help in here with di
I hover over the opposite side of the island, reaching in until my lips find his. I give him a chaste but heartening kiss, one that signals my devotion, and that screams reassurance. I slowly move back to my side of the countertop and entangle my fingers with his, which are clawing into the granite. “I’ve got everything under control in here; why don’t you relax? You seem wound tight tonight. Is everything going well at work?”
He tilts his head to the side incredulously. “Work?” he laughs. “Work is fine; we actually just closed a multi-million dollar deal this week, and I was thinking of asking Amanda to do some of the advertising and public relations with the project.”
“She’s been very busy, but I’m sure she would be interested.” I pause for a moment, trying desperately to see into the eyes of the man before me. I attempt to read what’s plaguing him.
Brooks steps around the corner and draws me to him, his firm arms winding around my waist. “I know I seem a little off, but I promise, there isn’t anything wrong. I’m pla
I let my eyes penetrate his crystal blue irises, looking for any ounce of deceit, but there is nothing evident. I relax into his arms and sigh. “Okay, but if something was wrong, you would tell me, right?”
“Of course, I don’t want to ever keep things from you, if I can help it,” he says as he bends down to kiss my lips. My tension releases and I melt into his arms. He finally pulls away, but I follow his lips, searching for more contact. He laughs and plants a soft kiss on my forehead before breaking away completely.
“I’m going to go outside with the kids; I need to talk to them about something. Holler out if you need me for anything.” He grabs my waist once more and yanks me towards him, causing me to stumble into him. “I need a little more of you before I go,” he whispers in my ear before crashing down on my lips.
The gentle, soft Brooks is gone, replaced with my urgent and greedy man. He took everything that I was willing to give and still searched for more. Chaste and overpowering, when he finally pulled away and walked out the backdoor like nothing had occurred, I was left fighting to catch my breath, my lips tingling and swollen, my stomach’s butterflies in hyper speed. The man could make me go from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds with only a look, and damn if I didn’t love him for it.
I slowly make my way to the fridge, my wobbly legs struggling to aid in the task. Gathering the tomatoes and lettuce to garnish our Mexican feast, I take them to the sink to prep them, but my actions are halted when I see Brooks with the children outside. I watch out the window at my boys playing catch with a football, and the girls standing to the side cheering them on. I can’t help but smile at the thought of how this really could be our life if we took the next steps forward.
I know I really love Brooks, and I can see a future with him but, there are still unanswered questions for me–questions that I have been too afraid to ask. I have never pried about what happened between us ten years ago. He’s never told me why he not only led me to believe that he cheated, but then left school completely. At the end of the semester, I assumed he transferred, and I had heard that it was to the University of Northern Colorado, which was only a town away in Greeley, but those were only rumors.
Not discussing it and not revealing the old secrets has allowed my mind to run rampant as to why he would do it. Thoughts of a drug problem and Brooks checking into a rehab center were at the top of the list. However, when I really think back, I did not see any signs of drug use. He acted strange towards the end, but nothing that led me to believe he was doing drugs.
I desperately want to let it go, pretend that it does not matter. I know I have already forgiven him for his actions, and I know he was trying to protect me from whatever it was he was hiding. No matter how hard I try, though, the thoughts of what could have caused his extreme behavior nags at my brain like nails on a chalkboard. It’s preventing me from completely wanting to take the next step. He says the issues of the past are gone, but what worries me more is that he’s never taken it upon himself to explain what happened. Maybe I’m overreacting, and maybe I’m acting too much like an emotional girl, or maybe the foreboding feeling I have about the situation should push me to be strong enough to ask him. More than anything, I need him to tell me on his own accord. I don’t want to have to ask; I want him to want to tell me.
I look out the window once more while I shake the vegetables dry from the thorough rinsing I had given them. My worries ease as I glance out at the sight of Brooks huddled in a circle with all three kids. The way that he is with them tugs at my heart, he has stepped in to fill the hole that Will left behind. No matter what he’s hiding, I’ll still always be grateful for how he treats my children. He has taken them in like his own, loving them no different than Grace.
It is almost unbearably cold outside this afternoon. While the sun is still out providing slight warmth, a cold front has made its way through the state in preparation for a wintery Thanksgiving. The evergreens are the only trees with needles or leaves left on them, and other than the occasional deer you might see on Brooks’ property, wildlife was pretty scarce. The chill is taking effect, and Brooks attempts to warm the girls by wrapping his arms around them both. They are all bundled in coats and hats, but Grace’s wide grin can still be spotted from under the mountain of fleece.
All three are intently listening to whatever story Brooks is sharing with them, but Grace’s smirk leads me to believe that she knows the tale already. I finally see Blake nod and Emma throw her arms around Brooks, knocking him back into the dead dry grass.
Feeling like I’m eavesdropping on a special moment, I turn from the window to begin chopping the vegetables on the cutting board laid out on the center island. Slicing my way through a tomato, I continue my assault on the lettuce, careful not to chop off a finger. I’m not exactly handy with a knife. The laughter from outside fills the atmosphere once more and I can’t help but feel the warmth of the situation, even with the glitches that it contains.
Bringing my knife up to settle on the top of the head of lettuce, my blade stops when the sound of the doorbell reverberates through the house. I consider stepping outside to let Brooks know, but I decide not to interrupt the special time he’s having. So instead, I set the butcher knife down carefully on the counter and head towards the front door.
I brush off any wayward food from my shirt, and wipe my hands on my jeans before reaching for the latches on the door. The solid oak door is heavy, and I have to use effort to even open it. Standing on the steps is Brooks, thirty years from now. The tall man before me is slim and has a haggard appearance, but the resemblance is undeniable; he without a doubt is related to Brooks. The dark hair that has sprinkles of white mixed throughout, and the same sapphire eyes that I love are peering back at me. I feel like I should know who he is; he seems familiar to me, but I can’t place him.
He looks nervous, shifting from one foot to the next, his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m sorry to bother you, miss,” he says, almost stuttering the words.
“Oh, no worries at all, sir, what can I help you with?” I ask. I try to alleviate some of his apprehension.
“Um, I believe my son lives here, Brooks Ryan. I was hoping to speak with him.”