Page 29 of Speechless

“Tell me about her. Your mum. Would you?”

Her gaze travels up to meet my eyes. There’s a hint of surprise but it softens quickly.

“Umm, okay.” She readjusts herself on the couch and I can’t help but grin. She already looks more comfortable. “Well, it might sound weird, or maybe even a little pathetic, but she was my best friend. I know most girls go through phases of hating their moms, but I never did. We were always close, ever since I can remember.”

“It doesn’t sound weird at all, Luce. And if anyone’s pathetic, it’s me. I’m a grown man and I will gladly tell you my mum is my best friend in the world. I’ve even tried to get her to move in with me.” She chuckles at this, and I wonder if she thinks I’m joking. It doesn’t matter, I just love hearing the ring of her laughter. “You told me she was a chef, right? That’s where your cooking skills are from?”

“Not a chef; a caterer. She was completely self-taught, but everything she made was incredible. I’ll never be able to cook like she did.”

“What was her favorite thing to make?” Lucy smiles wide at this, and I love that she doesn’t have to think for a moment about her answer.

“Chocolate chip cookies. She was addicted.”

“Ahh, and now I see where the sweet tooth comes from.”

“You caught me. I have a major weakness for sugar.” She readjusts herself again and sinks deeper into the sofa. At the same moment Rowan pops up—I had no idea he’d been hiding under the couch—and nestles into her lap. “He must have heard us. He loves sugar too. I never should have introduced him to ice cream.”

I’m feeling a bit brave right now, so I move before I have time to think. I stand up and reach for Lucy’s hand.

“Come on. No more wallowing. Let’s go make some biscuits.” Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to correct me but I cut her off. “My mum would have a stroke if I used the C word. Please don’t make me do it.”

She just laughs and follows me into the kitchen. And then, almost under her breath, she says, “I hope we have enough butter.”

* * *

“You know,you might actually be the first guy to bake with me. Is that crazy? Jack would never help out in the kitchen.”

“I feel honored. How many cups of flour did you say?” I’m trying to act confident, but I’m afraid it’s quite obvious I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s also difficult to keep my eyes off Lucy. I like to consider myself a feminist but there’s something undeniably sexy about watching her in the kitchen. Maybe it’s just seeing how comfortable she is in my home, how well she fits here. The term ‘domestic bliss’ pops into my head, but I jiggle it out before I start wanting things I know I can’t have.

“Here, I got it.” Lucy takes the paper bag out of my hands and gets to work. “Can you preheat the oven? And use this to spray the cookie sheet?” She hands me a bottle of coconut oil.

“He really never baked with you? Not once?” She swiftly shakes her head as she continues mixing the rest of the ingredients. It already smells amazing somehow. “I just have to say it. He didn’t deserve you. Truly. I hope you didn’t let him lick the batter. My mum always said that was a treat reserved for the chef.” Lucy giggles as she flits around the kitchen, completely in her element. I grab the bag of chocolate chips and nudge her gently with my hip. “My turn. Tell me when.” I tip over the bag until almost the entire contents have fallen into the bowl. Our eyes meet as I give her a look that says “Did I mess up?”

“Don’t worry. You can never have too much chocolate.” The spatula whirls and swirls by her hand at a slow and purposeful pace. I’m hypnotized by the movement. “And no, by the way. He wasn’t a bad guy, really. But licking batter off the spoon? That was always reserved for me and Rowan. Your mom is very wise.”

“Tell me to stop if I’m being an arse, but what really happened with him? You told me he left but, he really just . . . asked for a divorce? So suddenly? It doesn’t make sense.”

She’s rolling the dough into little balls with her head down, pensively watching herself work. It seems like she’s not going to answer so I grab some dough from the bowl and follow her lead. I need to do something to fill the silence.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. You deserve your privacy. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay. The way you say privacy is just precious. I can’t be upset with you.” She grins as our eyes meet. “And yeah, he—well, he had future plans that I couldn’t be a part of anymore.”

Well that’s fucking cryptic. What kind of future plans couldn’t include Lucy?

“Sorry, it’s still tough for me to talk about. He kind of abandoned me, or at least that’s how it felt.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Luce. I know exactly how that feels.” I pause, unsure if I should or even could explain but immediately decide to move on. “Well, like I said, he didn’t deserve you.”

She expels a small huff. I don’t know what comes over me, but I ask, “Do you still love him?”

“Not even a little.”

Relief floods my bloodstream enough to catch me off guard. It’s ridiculous how much I care for this woman, how happy it makes me that she isn’t still pining after her ex. Almost as ridiculous as how much I’m enjoying rolling balls of biscuit dough.

“Oh my God, your balls arewaytoo big!”

A strangled, choking sound spews out of me and Lucy doubles over with laughter.

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