He coughed, trying to divert her gaze. “It looks fine to me.”
“You haven’t seen many cobblers, have you?”
Her sarcasm made him laugh. “No, I guess I haven’t.” He kept his waist against the counter in an attempt to hide the stiff rod in his shorts. “Lily, I was wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me tonight.”
“Me?” She picked at the golden crust on the cobbler.
“Yes, you. I’m not a bad cook. I went to the grocery and got a few things. I’d like to have you over and show you some of the projects Nick had been working on.”
“Well, I…I don’t think that would do any harm. I guess I could come.” She slid her hands behind her back. “Can I bring this?” She gave the steaming dish a weary nod.
He eyed the oozing dessert. “That would be great.”
* * * *
Adam hadn’t lied to Lily. He could cook and did on occasion when he was home, which wasn’t often these days. The demand for his photos was off the charts. The money was good—he stretched his fingers, letting the tension in the scars release—but the price had been high.
Adam grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap. After taking a drink, he sat the bottle on the counter and picked up the knife to slice through a cucumber. He tossed the pieces into the salad. It was no wonder Nick had hired a manager for his gallery in New York. Adam knew if he’d met someone as special as Lily, he’d have left everything behind too. He couldn’t believe Nick hadn’t had sex with her. He’d written it over and over again in his letters, but Adam couldn’t believe it. Especially not after meeting her. Nick had sworn they were just friends, but the look on their faces said the caring went beyond friendship. They knew each other in a way people in love know their partners.
Adam questioned whether it was a good idea to get involved with the woman his brother may have been dating. Then a flash of Lily’s smile when she’d picked him up at the airport filtered through his mind. He did say they were just friends.
The salad was almost done when he started cutting the loaf of fresh bread. The hearty aroma made his stomach growl. Ellen had always done the cooking when they were together. She said he undercooked the pasta and put too many tomatoes in the marinara. Adam finally gave up and tasted the bland cuisine his fiancée insisted they eat. Choices were limited back then. The choice to get on the plane for Bosnia—that was a duty, Adam thought. The choice to expose the war in real time—that was a duty to the soldiers. The choice to marry Ellen—that was a godforsaken duty to his father. And the choice to walk away from the Catholic-wedding plans—well, that was his choice for a life without judgment.
Adam forced the image of Ellen out of his mind and replaced it with the picture of Lily sitting on the porch swing, mug of coffee resting in her hand, and him walking up to give her a good-morning kiss. Now that was a choice he’d savor every time.
LILY CARRIED HER grandmother’s heavy glass dish toward the stable house. The quick, stolen moments she was taking to gather her nerves weren’t working. The sunset cast a thousand shadows through the trees as she walked down the path, absorbing the coolness of the cobblestones through the bottoms of her bare feet.
“Let the sensation calm you,” she continued to repeat. She’d draped a thin sweater over her forearm before leaving the house. The spring nights seemed to cool as fast as the afternoons heated up, and she didn’t know how late he’d want her to stay.
As she approached the path leading to the pond, she looked over, remembering how the night air would creep in from the water, creating a comfortable breeze, sometimes chilly but pleasant all the same. Nicholas would sit on the porch for hours, playing cards with her, trying to help her fall asleep. Two friends sharing stories and tears. God, she missed him.
Lily sighed with the thought of her restless nights. They started once Keith decided she needed to leave. The thought of being alone the rest of her life, of never being good enough for anyone because of her depraved sexual needs, brought terrible nightmares. Tony had to come more often to help her get to sleep. He’d taken on more than he’d bargained for. Surely, he’d grown tired of her. A pang of sadness crept into her belly. Not now. Don’t cry now!
When she reached the stable house, Adam was sitting in the green Adirondack chair on the porch. His smile greeted her before his voice had the chance. “You came,” he said as he stood to take the heavy dish from her arms.
“Yes.” She scrunched her brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You sounded unsure earlier.” He opened the screen door for her to step through. “I’m glad you’re here.”