Page 63 of Before We Break Again
“True,” he concedes, his voice softening, “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of everything.Let me pamper you for once.”
I raise my eyebrow playfully.“Pamper me?By hiring someone else to cook?”
His grin widens.“Yep, exactly.Pampering where you get to be the queen, and we serve you however we can.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at him.“You don’t have to go through all that trouble.I honestly don’t mind cooking.And if not, there’s always takeout.”
Dustin shakes his head, still smiling.“Not here.No takeout in this part of the world, Hals.Only a diner down the road and a couple of restaurants at the Merkel Hotel in Baker’s Creek.”
“Well,” I tease, “maybe I’ll just have to teach you how to cook.”
He laughs softly, but then his expression shifts to something more sincere as he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.“I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
A warmth spreads through me at his words, and I find myself softening, leaning into the moment.“I appreciate that,” I murmur, “but you don’t have to go through so much trouble.I’m fine.I promise.”
“It’s no trouble,” he insists, his eyes searching mine as if trying to convince me.“Besides, it gives Santos and me peace of mind knowing you’re not overworking yourself.You’re taking care of both of us.Let us take care of you, too.”
I roll my eyes playfully, pretending to sigh in defeat, as if to say, fine, you win.Then, I glance back toward the living room, where Santos is resting on the couch.“Speaking of him, he’s probably wondering where we went.”
Dustin chuckles, the sound low and easy, the kind that makes the room feel just a little warmer.“Yeah, we shouldn’t leave him hanging for too long.I’ve already set up the downstairs guest room for him.It’s all ready.”
I smile, a sense of relief washing over me at his thoughtfulness.It’s one less thing to worry about.“Good.The less he walks, the better.”
Dustin leans back, his gaze flicking between me and the living room, as if weighing everything in his mind, but there’s a quiet confidence in his eyes.“He’ll be alright.We’re going to make this work.You, me, him ...this place.It’s all going to come together.”
I pause for a moment, absorbing what he just said.He’s so sure of it, as if he’s already imagined how things will fall into place.And I want to believe it too.
“Yeah, it will,” I say with conviction.
Dustin nods.“I made some tea, too, in case you’d prefer that over coffee.And there are some pastries Gavin brought earlier.”
I let out a soft laugh, grateful for the gentle shift in conversation.“Always thinking ahead,” I tease lightly.Then, realizing the time, I tilt my head curiously.“What are we doing for dinner?”
He flashes a grin, a hint of mischief in his eyes.“Merkel Hotels is delivering something later.The chef is actually coming to prepare the food here so it’s fresh.”
My eyes widen in surprise.“The chef is coming here?That’s ...quite the arrangement.”
He shrugs casually, though there’s a proud glint in his eye.“Only the best for us.Besides, with Santos out of commission and my lack of culinary skills, it’s the least I can do.”
“See?You’re already taking care of us,” I point out, a warm affection threading through my words.
He laughs softly, a sound that resonates deep within me.“Maybe I’m good at this.”
“Maybe you are,” I agree, feeling a lightness that hasn’t been there in a long time.
We begin to gather the mugs and plates, our movements naturally synchronized as if we’ve done this a hundred times before.As I reach for a plate, our fingers brush lightly, sending a subtle spark up my arm.I glance up to find him watching me, a gentle expression on his face that makes my heart skip a beat.
Clearing my throat, I pick up the plates.“We should get back to Santos,” I say softly.“He might be wondering what’s taking so long.”
Dustin nods, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turns to pick up the mugs.“Yeah, we should get back to him.”
As we make our way back to the living room, a comfortable silence settles between us.
Pausing at the threshold of the living room, I take in the sight of Santos adjusting himself on the couch, propping pillows behind his back.He looks up as we enter, a smile spreading across his face that reaches his eyes.
“Look who I found,” I announce with a playful lilt, stepping into the room.
Santos chuckles, his gaze shifting between us.“Thought you two might’ve gotten lost,” he teases gently.
