Ethan was nowhere near as composed as he put on. Dinner had been easy … too easy. He’d wondered how it would feel to have a woman here, in the home he’d shared with his wife. He’d wondered if it would be awkward, or feel simply wrong.
Instead she’d come inside and fit in as if she belonged. He hadn’t thought of Lisa once during dinner, but he’d found himself staring at Willow’s lips, wondering when he could kiss her again. He couldn’t deny the chemistry was off the charts, but it worried him, too. Was it his dry spell making him so crazy? Was that being fair to Willow? The last thing he wanted to do was string her along.
Or was it something more? And that was an even scarier proposition.
The boys were bathed and in pajamas when Ethan thought a fire in the backyard pit might be a good idea. Despite having brownies earlier, a good campfire meant some sort of treat cooked over an open flame. He gave the boys a cookie sheet as a tray and let them get out white bread and butter while he opened a can of apple pie filling and put in in a bowl. Willow was in charge of putting the chairs around the fire pit and he took a hatchet and shaved off some kindling to get things started. Within a few minutes the dry spruce started crackling and he looked up at Willow with a grin on his face. “Ah. My manhood is still intact.”
She laughed, and the light sound rippled through the lavender twilight. Ronan opened the sliding door and Connor came out, carefully carrying the tray of pie fixings. “So, I’ve heard of a lot of campfire treats, but this whole pie thing has me puzzled.”
“It’s pretty sinful, particularly to someone like you.” He went to Connor and took the tray, then set it on a small table. “Horrible, horrible white bread. Butter. And pie filling from a can. But I promise, it’s delicious.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t. But how do you do it?”
Connor and Ronan had zipped back inside to get milk. Ethan added wood to the fire and stood back, satisfied with the hum and snap of the flames. “This has to burn down a bit. Then we use these.” He held up a strange apparatus—a long handle with a square metal box on the end. “It’s a pie iron. Or sandwich. These aren’t cast iron, because iron is too heavy for the boys. We’ve done grilled cheese, pizza pockets, pie…”
When he chanced a look over at her, she was grinning from ear to ear. “What?”
“I was just thinking I’ve never done this in my life. My high school campfires were more like chips and vodka coolers on the sly.”
“You’ve never been camping?”
“No. It was just me and my mom, and…”
Her face changed when she stopped talking. Ethan frowned. She said so little about her life before. Had she really been so unhappy, then? It hurt his heart a little to think of it. She was so full of life, so bubbly and smiling all the time. The thought of her being sad seemed so wrong.
He sat down in the camp chair beside her. “And what? I take it she wasn’t the outdoor type?”
Willow laughed, but it was a humorless sound. “My mom was a workaholic. She did a great job providing for us, and as a single mom I know it had to be really difficult for her. But…” She sighed. “It wasn’t a particularly loving environment, that’s all. I felt in the way a lot of the time. Like an imposition.”
Ethan thought back to his own childhood. He’d had his brothers and sisters to both play with and aggravate. His parents had always been loving and involved in their kids’ lives. Sure, they’d done their share of “get out of the house and go play so we can have some peace and quiet,” but their family had always been one of love and acceptance.
“You must have been really lonely.”
“Friends got me through. Until…”
Once more she paused. Ethan was going to ask her “until what” except Connor and Ronan came back, carrying plastic cups with lids and straws filled with milk.
“Is it time, Daddy?” Ronan practically bounced on his toes, excited for his treat.
“Just about. Let’s get them made, and by that time, the fire should be ready. You want to help, Willow?”
“Sure,” she answered, her easy smile back on her face.
The four of them built the “pies” by buttering bread, sandwiching the slices together with pie filling, and closing the presses. Ethan arranged the boys’ chairs so they were close to the fire but not too close, and they carefully held out the long handles so the pies were nestled in the flames.
“Once they have theirs, we can make ours,” Ethan said. “We’ll have to check them in a few minutes. Once they get a little brown, you flip them over and do the other side.”
They watched the boys carefully, and checked the pies for doneness, flipped them over, and watched again. When they were golden brown on each side, Ethan carefully turned them out onto plates to cool. The boys were practically dancing with impatience, but Ethan made them wait. Burned tongues weren’t fun.
In the meantime, he and Willow made their pies and put them in the irons. At that point the boys weren’t going to wait any longer, so Ethan sat them down in their chairs with their milk and apple pies and he handed one of the irons to Willow.
She looked over at him as she held her iron in the flames. “This is fun. Do you do this a lot?”
He shrugged. “In the summer? Usually once a week or so. Either here or at Mom and Dad’s. Though it’s usually s’mores over there. He says they’re for the boys, but Pop loves them.”
“You have a great family, Ethan. I mean, I knew that from talking to Hannah and Laurel, but the more I know them, the more I realize how wonderful they are. And rare.”
He hadn’t really thought of it that way before. Sure, he appreciated them, but there was also the assumption that this was how families were. Boy, he’d been naïve. And had maybe taken them for granted.
He looked over at the boys. They were sitting in their chairs, talking to each other, milk cups in the chair cup holders and half-eaten pies on their laps. For the first time in a long time, he felt lucky. Thankful. There was a lot to be thankful for, really, but he’d been too caught up in what he’d lost, and trying to be a single dad, that he’d stopped noticing.
Willow opened her pie iron and checked her pie, then latched it closed again and flipped it over to toast the other side. A lump formed in his throat as he watched her. He and Lisa had only managed to do this a few times with the kids. Ronan was too little to remember, and Connor had been the age Ronan was now. Even then, she’d been so sick that she’d sat in her chair and watched more than participated.
Those end days had been beautiful and awful. For a long time, Ethan had felt as if he’d died right along with her. But now Willow was here, and she was so vibrant. So alive. And she made him feel alive, too. No matter where this ended up going, he would always be thankful for that.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked. The firelight flickered over her smooth skin, and made orangey lights in her blond hair.
He turned away, embarrassed at being caught. “Oh, just enjoying myself, I suppose. Your pie’s probably done. I’ll put it on a plate for you.”
She handed him her contraption and he busied himself with putting the pies on plates and then setting the irons aside to cool. When he took her the plate, their fingers brushed lightly, and she looked up and met his gaze. A jolt of something zipped through his fingertips, but then she licked her lips—had that been intentional? He didn’t think so. Willow wasn’t the kind to be deliberately provocative.
He cleared his throat and took his hand away, then went to put more wood on the fire.
“This is delicious,” Willow said, and he turned to find her nibbling on the hot pocket. “It shouldn’t be, but oh my.”
Connor nodded. “Apple is my favorite. Aunt Hannah likes cherry.”
“What about you, Ronan? What’s your favorite?”
“Strawberry,” he said. “But I like apple, too. Grammie Susan makes the best apple pie.”
“I bet she does,” Willow answered, and looked at Ethan. “Maternal grandmother?” she asked in a low voice.
He nodded. “Lisa’s family lives in Montpelier. The boys are actually going to visit next week for a few days.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It’ll be quiet around here for sure.”
A new awareness filled the air between them. Ethan would be home but without the boys to run interference … or get in the way. Did he want to see Willow again? Did he want to be uninterrupted? Would he back off once again if things got a bit intense? Man, he’d figured he wouldn’t have to do this dating thing ever again, but here he was. Caught between a memory and a possibility, afraid to let go of one and afraid to embrace the other.
He was an idiot. Why the hell was he overthinking this so much?
And then he looked at Willow, with her very personal tattoo and the sad face when he talked about his big family and knew it was because she mattered. Knew that despite how cranky and broody he appeared on the outside, on the inside he would never deliberately want to hurt a living soul. And certainly wouldn’t want to use someone for his own ends.
Maybe he should just back off. Until he was sure he was ready.
And then she looked up at him with her half-eaten pie and smiled at him and something warm expanded in his chest.
He was falling for her. Despite all the cautions, despite all the red flags, despite their different upbringings and views, he cared.
“Boys, it’s time for bed. Finish up your milk, and then we’ll go in and brush your teeth.”
“Awww, Dad,” Connor complained. “Do we have to?”
“Yes. It’s already past your bedtime. Say good night to Willow.”
With grumbling and much slumping, the boys crawled out of their camp chairs and heaved disappointed sighs. “When I grow up, I’m going to stay up as late as I want,” Connor mumbled.
Ethan chuckled, and saw Willow hide a smile.
“G’night, Willow.”
“Good night, Connor.”
“Night, Wil-low,” echoed Ronan. But he went over to her chair and went up on his toes to plant a kiss on her cheek.
“Flirt,” Ethan accused, trying to ignore the ache inside at the gesture.
“Good night, sweetheart,” she whispered, a telltale catch in her voice.
The boys ran off to the house, leaving Ethan and Willow alone. “Gosh, they’re so sweet. Especially Ronan.”
Ethan laughed. “He knows how to play you.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said staunchly, defending Ronan. “There’s not a manipulative bone in his body.”
“See? You’re completely fooled.”
She smiled in return and sat back in her chair. “You know, when we first met, I felt sorry for your kids. You seemed so cranky. So…”
“Not fun?”
“Yeah. That.”
“I’m not always fun. Sometimes I’m tired. Sometimes I’m frustrated.” He took a chance and made a confession. “You’ve been good for me, Willow. I’d spent a lot of time with my family, but didn’t make any time for friends. I think I was worried that they’d treat me like the fragile widower. Or that I’d just drag people down, so I stayed away.”
“Not worried about dragging me down?” she asked, and he saw a twinkle in her eyes in the firelight.
“That’s what I like about you. You can tease and hit me with honesty all at the same time. You don’t treat me with kid gloves.”
“Well, I’d been hiding away a bit myself, so I guess I’ll return the favor and say that you’ve made me broaden my perspective.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a criticism.”
“The jury’s still out.”
Damn. She knew how to keep him on his toes, and he liked it. A lot.
“You go see to the boys,” she suggested. “The fire’s burning down a bit now, so I’ll tidy up the food mess.”
“Stay for a glass of wine? A beer? We could put another log on the fire and chill.”
Wow, wasn’t he the exciting host? Sitting around the backyard. He was sure she’d say she needed to head out, but instead she gathered plates and smiled. “That sounds nice.”
He went inside and supervised the brushing of teeth and tucked the boys into bed. Well past their regular bedtime, both burrowed under the covers, their heads smelling a little like the smoke from the fire, their mouths like mint and apple mixed together.
“Good night, boys.”
“’Night, Dad.” Connor yawned and rolled to his side. Ronan didn’t even answer, he simply closed his eyes and was out.
Ethan shut the door behind him, then hesitated for a minute. It had been a year and a half, maybe longer, since he’d tucked the boys into bed and looked forward to private moments with a woman. It was something he’d never actually thought he’d have again. For the longest time, it had felt as if he’d never move past his grief and loneliness. He hated to admit it, but perhaps everyone who’d said “It gets better” was right after all.
Willow was still sitting by the fire, staring into the flames that were softer now. He handed her a glass of wine, twisted the top off his own beer, and sank into the chair with a sigh.
“You got the monkeys off to bed?” she asked softly.
“It wasn’t hard. They were pooped.” He smiled a little. “Ronan was asleep before his head hit the pillow.”
“They’re great kids, Ethan. I know it’s got to be hard, but they really are terrific.”
“And busy, and dirty…”
“And little boys. They’re just being kids.”
“Have you ever thought of having your own?” he asked. “You’re so good with them. Honestly, I find it hard to believe you’re still single.”
She didn’t answer, so he took a swig of his beer and turned his head to look at her. Once more, the troubled look on her face gave him pause. “Willow? What’s wrong?”
“Are we starting a thing, here, Ethan?” She met his gaze, her face utterly serious. “We had a great time at the movie, and after … but you stopped, and for a good reason. Tonight we took a step back to something more casual, but we’re still … well, I’m here. I know I give you mixed signals. It’s just hard for me to trust.”
It had to be something pretty big for her to be so serious and so hesitant to share. “Does this have to do with why you’ve got that tattoo?”
She nodded. “It does. And I haven’t told anyone. Not even Laurel, or Hannah. And I don’t want to tell you, either, but I feel I should if we’re moving into relationship territory.”
He hesitated. Took another drink of beer. She had a sip of her wine. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally said, frowning at the flames. “I like being with you. I want to spend time with you. I think about kissing you … but I’m scared to put a label on what we have. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not sure I’m ready for anything as heavy as an actual relationship.”
“I understand.”
“You need to know that. I don’t want to stop seeing you, but I understand if it’s not enough for you.”
She laughed a little, but it was a sad sound. “I’m not exactly sure what a healthy relationship looks like. I have my own reservations. Not about you … about me.”
“Me, too.”
“But I like being with you. And the boys … maybe we just need to take time to sort things out.”
He looked over again. She sipped her wine, and the flames danced over her face and through the globe of her wineglass.
“Have you wondered if we’re both just too damaged to do this?”
He was surprised he’d actually voiced that concern. He’d known from the beginning that there were shadows in her past. Even if she hadn’t named them, they were there. Sure, she seemed happy and … serene. Yes, that was it. But his initial impression of her had certainly changed. There was a depth that wasn’t noticeable at first glance.
She nodded. “You threaten everything I’ve worked for,” she whispered. “My peace of mind. My confidence and security. You make me doubt. Sometimes I’ve wondered if you’re meant to be a test for me. Or if you are meant to show me that I still have work to do. I thought I was whole. I think that might have been arrogant of me.”
He didn’t know how to answer that. Being with someone … it was supposed to make you more, not less. “You’ve made my life better,” he replied. “But I think you’re saying that I haven’t done the same for you.” It hurt to think he’d failed in that way.
“Oh, that’s not it at all!” She turned in her chair and faced him head on. “Oh, Ethan. I don’t mean for you to feel that way. You have made things better. If anything, it’s made me take a good hard look at myself and realize what I’ve been missing.”
“Missing?”
She nodded. “Love. Intimacy. The need to let myself be vulnerable. I’ve been looking inward to acceptance and happiness, and that’s wonderful, but I’ve held myself back. I’ve avoided taking chances so that I wouldn’t get hurt. That’s not very realistic.”
It was a heavy sort of conversation to have. He took another drink of his beer, and then held out his hand. “Take my hand,” he said quietly. “Just for a little while. We can take this slow. We can avoid labels. We don’t have to define anything.”
A slow smile spread across her face as she put her fingers in his. “We can just be,” she agreed. “In the moment. It’s really the only way to live. We can’t change the past, Ethan. And we can’t predict the future. But sitting in front of a fire with you is a very nice now to be in.”
Her hand was small and soft in his, and felt a bit foreign but also very right.
They sat there for a long time, until their drinks were gone and the fire was down to embers. Then, when the moon was high over the trees, they let go with a sigh.