Page 75 of Soft Tissue Damage
“Salami is out too.” The packet goes into the trash.
“What’s wrong with salami?”
“Toxoplasmosis.”
“But we were both eating salami the other day.”
“Things change,” he says cheerfully, and throws out a packet of pepperoni.
“Toxoplasmosis?” I ask.
“And nitrates. They’re very bad for you. Do you eat much fish? I haven’t seen you each much fish.”
“Not very often.”
“Good. Some of them have heavy metals. Too much isn’t good for you.”
“I had no idea that the fridge could be such a deathtrap,” I say with a laugh as I head for the coffeepot, intending to pour myself another cup.
Cullan frowns as he looks at the pot. “Have you already had a cup of coffee this morning?”
“Yes, but—”
He picks up the pot before I can reach it and pours the contents down the sink. I stare in shock at all that delicious hot coffee draining away.
“Cullan!”
“Too much coffee is bad for you. One cup a day is enough. Don’t worry, I’ll cut back to one cup as well. I don’t expect you to do this on your own.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Salami I can do without, but my second cup of coffee? This is too much.”
Cullan looks deep into my eyes. “Remember what you said when we first met, about me making people feel safeall over Blackport? This is part of it. You’ve become very dear to me, Elena. Nothing is more important to me than the well-being of the people I care about.”
He kisses me, and the protest I was about to make dies on my lips. He deepens the kiss, and his tongue brushes mine. He presses his hand over my stomach and caresses me with his thumb. With his hand on my belly, he breaks the kiss and whispers, “I’m doing this for both of you.”
I can feel the charm and persuasiveness radiating from him like he’s a space heater.
“Rosie doesn’t drink coffee,” I point out, but he looks so deadly serious that I roll my eyes and smile. “Fine. One cup a day, but I better see about a thousand health benefits.”
He smiles and resumes sorting through the fridge. “There are some lovely herbal teas in the cupboard. Try peppermint if you want something to energize you.”
I make a peppermint tea and sip it. It’s not bad, actually.
I spend the morning reading and listening to Cullan and Rosie in the kitchen, him cooking and her banging pot lids together and drumming on an upturned saucepan with a wooden spoon. They both sound so happy that it makes me smile. I take a walk in the afternoon because the sunny day beckons to me, and when I return, Cullan and Rosie are playing in the garden and the house is filled with the smell of vanilla cake, fresh from the oven.
That evening, we sit down to an early dinner with Rosie in her high chair. She has chopped boiled egg withpotato and butter and cucumber sticks, and Cullan has made us a stir-fry. At the end of the meal, Cullan dims the lights and brings out the birthday cake covered in sprinkles and lit with candles. They sing “Happy Birthday”, Rosie yellingla la lamore than singing, but I love her enthusiasm. I blow out the candles, and Cullan turns the lights back on.
“Rosie helped me decorate. I hope you like it.”
I can see that a small child has been allowed to pick up handfuls of sprinkles and drop them on the cake. One side is covered in them, and the other is nearly bare. I picture Cullan holding his daughter while she “decorates,” pointing out where to drop the sprinkles and laughing as they go everywhere. I would have loved to see that. I want a thousand little moments like that with them.
“I love it,” I say sincerely, blinking through my tears and smiling. “It’s the most wonderful cake in the world, and I’ve had the most wonderful birthday. Justine taking me out dancing. You and everything that happened last night. Thank you for the bonus, and the presents, and this cake, and…what happened in the garden. I have never been so spoiled in my life.”
Cullan raises an eyebrow. “You think that was spoiling? You haven’t seen spoiling. It was selfish of me, giving you those shoes. They were more for me than for you, which was wicked of me. I’ll have to make it up to you.”
I feel my cheeks heat as I smile at him. “I love them. They made me feel desirable. You don’t have to make up anything to me.”
As we eat the cake, which is delicious with fluffy buttercream frosting, Cullan grows serious. “You wanted to run from me after I told you the truth about what happened in this house. Do you still feel that way?”
