Page 39 of Harmony Island Gazette
“The service gave me something that I could never find at home. It gave me a family. It gave me a sense of belonging. And I was able to save people, unlike…”
His voice trailed off, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “Your mom?”
His gaze slowly drifted over to me before he swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered.
The harsh beep of the kitchen timer cut through the tension. Boone snapped to attention and finished pulling the chicken Parmesan from the pan and then turned back to the pots still simmering on the stove. Five minutes later, he had our plates full of spaghetti and chicken Parmesan slathered in red sauce that had my mouth watering.
He brought me my plate with a fork and then returned with a large glass of ice water. Once he was certain that I was taken care of, he made his way back to the counter, where he grabbed his full plate and joined me at the table.
I was so hungry that I didn't notice the silence between us as we sat and ate. The food was almost as good as the scalp massage he had given me earlier. It wasn't fair that he had such an advantage over me. I didn't like being indebted to other people, even though I knew that he wouldn't come to collect. I wanted our relationship to at least be fifty-fifty, though I didn't know how that was going to happen.
My stomach was bursting by the time I finished, and I was grateful that I had put leggings on. I set my fork down next to my plate and stretched back with the hope to give my stomach just a little bit more room. But when I relaxed, my stomach felt just as smashed as it did before.
“I don't know what I'm gonna do,” I said as I patted my stomach. “Someday soon it's not going to be a food baby taking up all this space, but an actual baby.” My cheeks warmed as my words made their way back to my ears. Should I be embarrassed to talk about this with Boone? What was I saying? The man had already seen me throw up. It wasn't like we had a lot of secrets between us anymore.
“Are you nervous about having a baby?” Boone asked. He was scooping up the last remnants of spaghetti on his plate with his fork.
“Nervous?” I asked more for myself than for him. “I don't know.” I glanced over at him. “Does that make me a bad mom? Not knowing how I feel about the baby I'm carrying?” I could feel tears prick my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but my hormones were already so out of whack that there was really no way to keep them in, even if I wanted to.
“I don't think it's possible for you to be a bad mom,” Boone said, his voice so low that it rumbled from his chest. “I think if you love your child, that's all you need.”
He was pushing around some crumbs on the table with his fingertips, and I could tell he wanted to say something more. I remained quiet.
“My mom struggled, but I always knew she loved me. And I think she was a great mom.”
I reached across the table and rested my hand on top of his. “Of course she was a great mom,” I said. “She raised a good son.”
As those words left my lips, something changed in Boone. He pulled his hand back and straightened as if he had been poked by a hot iron. His gaze turned dark as he studied the table in front of him. “Don't say that.” He had a bite to his tone that left me confused and wondering where I had gone wrong. “Please don't ever say that again.”
Before I could ask him what I had said, or even apologize for having said the wrong thing, he was pushing his chair away from the table and gathering up the empty dishes. I was left sitting at the table, piecing through our conversation, while he busied himself with cleaning the dishes and loading the dishwasher.
I was so confused how this evening had gone south so fast. I complimented his mother. I complimented him. He had to know that he was a good guy. Right? He was a freaking Navy SEAL. The man had dedicated his life to saving others. How could he not see that he was an incredible person?
It couldn't be that. I must've said something that I didn’t remember. Maybe if I gave him some time, he would come around. So, I decided to brush off his abrupt behavior and push out my chair. I joined him in the kitchen, where I grabbed a dish rag and rinsed it under the water that he had running for the dishes.
“You don't have to do that,” Boone said as he approached the sink with the sauce pot.
“I think I do,” I said as I turned to face him head-on. The scales were tipped in his favor, but I was determined to bring them back in my direction. Or at least bring them to equilibrium.
“You cooked dinner, it's my job to clean up,” I said, staring him down as if to threaten him to speak.
“You're the one with the baby.”
“So that makes me incapable of helping out?” I don't know if it was my frustration at the way he ended our conversation earlier or at his belief that I wasn’t capable of helping since I was carrying a child. But I was ready for a fight if that was what Boone wanted.
He stared at me with his lips parted, like he was trying to process what I just said to him. He brought his eyebrows together as he started to shake his head. “I don't think you're incapable of helping out. I think you are a very capable woman.”
It angered me that I couldn't even get him to fight me. This man had to have a flaw. It had to be somewhere in there, and for the sake of my sanity, I needed to find out what it was. If I didn’t, I was scared that my feelings would continue to grow in the pit of my stomach. Every time I looked at him it would become unbearable. And when it came time to walk away, I wouldn’t have the strength to do it.
“You need to stop doing that,” I blurted out.
He frowned. “Doing what?”
“Being nice to me. Complimenting me. I know my dad asked you to take care of me and to help watch over his store, but I think you might be taking it a little bit too far.” I squared my gaze with his. “Especially if you're not willing to let me return the favor.”
“Return the favor?” he asked.
He couldn’t possibly be this obtuse. “Earlier at the table, when I complimented you. You told me I had no idea what I was talking about.”
