I wanted to do something reckless.

Dumb and stupid and reckless.

But that wasn’t me. So I was here.

Here being on top of a horse under the watchful eye of my sister and staring down at the ground that suddenly seemed like a lot farther than six feet away.

Allie sat on a pony—I was trying not to make a stink that it was several feet shorter than my own horse because she was my daughter, after all—next to me. She was grinning and wriggling in the saddle, beyond excited that I was riding with her.

Kelly was the horse whisperer, not me. I could barely keep my seat and was petrified the entire time.

My daughter, on the other hand, had inherited the horse gene and had quickly moved from corral rides to long, traipsing gallops through the fields of Kel and Justin’s ranch.

Roosevelt Ranch was rapidly becoming known as one of the premier horse breeders in the country, and it was all because of my sister. She’d worked with the previous owner of the ranch for years, had even been given a college scholarship because she’d been such a talented equestrian. But when Justin’s brother—one Rex Roosevelt and once a serious scumbag—had bought the ranch and nearly driven it into the ground, Justin and Kelly had taken over.

Now it was awesome, and the stables were busy. Which was just the way Kel preferred.

Breeding, boarding, teaching kids—and sometimes adults, in my case—to ride, was what my sister had always dreamed about.

That and a big family.

I smiled as she brought her horse up next to Allie’s and adjusted her helmet, tightening the buckle so that it didn’t slip from her head. Justin held Abby in his arms and was carrying her through the stables as they checked out the horses.

I had the feeling that Abby would be riding better than me in no time.

“Ready?” Kel asked, coming alongside my horse.

“Did you have to give me the biggest one?” I moaned.

“Yup.” A quick smile. “Plus, he’s the sweetest one. Theodore—”

“Theodore?” I squawked, ready to launch myself from the saddle. Theodore was known in the stables as the most rambunctious and troublesome of the horses.

“Kidding,” Kel said, grabbing my shoulder to steady me. “This is Sweetheart. She’s gentle and as sweet as her name. It’s where Allie started. We use her for the five-year-olds.”

I gripped the reigns tightly. “I hear the amusement in your voice, and I don’t like it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“How’d your doctor’s appointment go?” With all of the craziness of the day before, I hadn’t thought to ask.

Kel glanced over and whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Twins.”

My eyes went wide.

She laughed. “I know. I guess it’s not a surprise considering that Justin and Rex are twins, but holy sh”—she cut the word off when Allie glanced over—“horses hooves, three under four. How are we going to survive?”

I forgot that I was on top of an animal-powered death machine for a second and squeezed Kelly’s hand. “You’ll survive. You’re an amazing mom. And Rob—”

The words stalled. I’d been about to say that Rob and I would be there for her.

But would he?

“We’ll be there for you guys,” I finished, feigning a look down as though Sweetheart had been responsible for the bump in my words. Never mind that she was acting the perfect sweetheart and had hardly moved.

Kel, at least, didn’t seem to register the blip as anything major. She laughed, repositioned my hands on the reins, and nodded at the rolling hills. “Let’s get you moving before you chicken out.”

I mock-frowned, shoved the turmoil far, far down. This was my time with Allie and Kelly, and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

“That was so fun, Mommy!” Allie yelled as we got back into the car and headed to the field where Max’s soccer practice was being held.

We were both dusty and I, for one, was going to be sore in the morning. I’d also agreed for some reason to take more lessons from my sister.

Kelly was convinced that I was going to become an expert horsewoman.

I had my doubts about that.

But it had been fun, and so I was coming back in two days for another ride on Sweetheart.

Now that statement sounded both extremely odd and strangely dirty.

“It was fun,” I told Allie. “Thank you for letting me come with you.”

“I love Bruce,” she said of her pony. “He’s funny.”

I grinned back at her in the rearview. “You mean that he poops a lot.”

She giggled. “You said poop.”

“It’s true.”

Her laugh warmed me from the inside out. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Allie-girl.”

She broke into a story about a ball, the playground, and two mean girls. Then transitioned into one about the book they’d read at circle time, before discussing the proper piece placement for the doll puzzle at school.

By the time we reached the field, her school stories had run out and she’d moved onto horse ones.

Max ran up to the car, bag hanging on his shoulder. I waved at Caleb’s mom, rolling down the window to confirm that I had the boys for the same routine but at our house the following week, then drove home.

Then it was dinner and homework, baths and bedtime reading. By the time I sat down to work on my next blog post it was after ten. I hadn’t gotten a bath yet, but I had work to do, lunches to make, and dinner to think about for the following night, since Allie had a late swimming class.

Deciding to combine two tasks into one, I started making the kids’ lunches and documented the process for the blog.

Sandwiches and fruit weren’t the most exciting blog material, but they were something, and my white cheddar with apricot jelly and sliced green apples on thick crusty pieces of sourdough were to die for.

The combination was one of my favorite snacks, and as thus, I’d just sat down to one on the couch—midnight snacks were the best—when my cell phone buzzed.

“Hello?” I said hesitantly into it when I didn’t recognize the number.

“Melissa? It’s Tammy.”

I somehow both tensed and relaxed at the same time. Tensed because Tammy held my dreams in the palm of her hand and relaxed because I liked her. A lot.

“H-hi, Tammy. How are you?”

“It’s not too late to call, is it?” she asked. “I’d normally never phone this late, but then I got confirmation from the network and got excited, and . . . well, here we are.”

I waited until she paused then said, “No. I’m normally up pretty late.”

“Oh good. Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I’ve got a flight in two days for you to New York. You’ll come out and film a segment in the studio and we’ll go from there.” I could almost picture her ticking items off on her fingers. “I need two recipes from you by tomorrow so I can have the food purchased.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“Any recipe you want,” Tammy said. “Oh! And I know you need to be home with your kiddos, so I’ve scheduled you to fly in on a red-eye, film in the morning, and then fly home that same evening.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “And my hope is that if everything goes well, we can film in your kitchen or your backyard. Ooh! Or maybe we can convince your sister and her yummy of a husband to let us film on the ranch. That would be a gorgeous location. Rolling hills, sweeping sunsets.” She sighed. “That kitchen.”

I set my plate on the coffee table and sat forward on the couch, my mind spinning.

“Sound good?”

I blinked. “Uh . . .” I hesitated, but only for a split second before I got my stuff together. “Yes. It sounds great.”

Already my brain was working on our schedule. Mentally calculating the kids’ after-school activities and sorting out the coverage I needed. I had enough food in the freezer for dinner, and I could make breakfast and lunch ahead of time. I’d need to get them to and from school—

“Perfect! I’ll email you the details and see you in two days!” Tammy paused. “Don’t forget those recipes!”

With a click, she hung up, and I stayed put on the couch for a couple of seconds, stunned motionless by the whirlwind that was Tammy.

Then I jumped into motion.

I practically dove into the kitchen, gathering my two favorite recipes: chicken and dumplings and a cabbage-apple slaw.

They were simple, delicious, and easy to make with cheap ingredients.

They were me. They were my blog.

I could stretch several elements to last many meals. And I’d had to on multiple occasions when my mother had gotten drunk and gambled all our money away.

Food had been my demon growing up. Never enough of it, constantly slipping more to Kelly since she was younger, and it was my job to take care of her, to make sure her belly didn’t rumble with hunger.

It had gotten so bad that I’d felt guilty for eating, for taking one bite out of her mouth. I’d gotten really skinny. Too skinny. Not quite anorexic. At least, I don’t think so. But I hadn’t been in a healthy mental space.

Rob had saved me from that. And the town.

Darlington was good people. We’d had anonymous deliveries of meals and groceries, from those who knew my mother wasn’t a good person. Not that our father was innocent or much better—as an absentee dad, he was just as negligent.

We’d never had any authority intervene on our behalf because I had hidden our problems. Because I hadn’t asked for help. Because I’d been scared we would be split up if someone reported us to child protection services.

So when I’d finally gotten a job and could support myself and Kel, I’d pinched every penny and bought cookbooks, studied up with Henry’s dad at his restaurant in between waitressing shifts, practiced and experimented and ate.

Now food was my therapy.

And I was ready to share it with the world.

I slipped on an apron, pulled out the ingredients. I would run through the recipes, make sure they were perfect.

My phone buzzed, and I extracted it from my pocket. A text from Rob was on the screen.

I gasped, and my eyes flew to the window. Headlights flashed in the driveway before a car backed out and drove away.

Silence then another buzz.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I rolled out the dough for the dumplings and whipped up the two recipes.

The little balls of dough turned out perfect. Delicious, well-seasoned, and melt-in-your-mouth. The apple slaw was the perfect complement. It was light and tart and contrasted with the creamy sauce nicely.

I stuffed my face, froze the leftovers, only wishing a little bit that Rob was there to sample with me.

I didn’t understand what was happening with us, what I’d done wrong.

But I did know that I wasn’t giving up on my dream, whether or not my husband wanted me to.