Chapter 15

I may look like a potato now, but one day I’ll be that tasty basket of fries and you’ll want me then.

-Cobie’s secret thoughts

Cobie

Day 12 Post Surgery

Was there anything sexier than seeing a man, holding a sick baby who had an ear infection, shirtless?

No. I didn’t think there was, either.

I may be under the weather, but my body wasn’t dead.

And the things I was feeling for the man that was clearly only ever going to be my friend was quite scary.

Day 13 Post Surgery

I shivered and pulled the quilt off the back of the couch, wrapping it around both Mary—who’d been in my lap for over an hour now just lying there—and myself.

She snuggled down into the quilt, her little fingers touching a patterned heart.

My eyes zeroed in on the heart, and I realized that the quilt wasn’t just a quilt.

On the back of the couch, how it had been folded, it looked just like a chevron patterned quilt.

But on the other side was anything but a plain quilt.

Hundreds of squares of tiny little outfits were sewn onto twelve-by-twelve squares.

Some of them were the entire outfit. While other outfits were tilted so you could see the tiny neckline of a onesie or the patterned smiling face embroidered on the foot of a sleeper.

It was darling. And in an instant, I knew that these outfits were the clothes that Dante’s kids had worn growing up.

One, in particular, brought my attention to it. A tiny little onesie, the size of a preemie at most, was in the center of the quilt. The front read “Daddy Loves Me” on it.

And my heart broke.

I ran the edge of my finger over it. Saw the yellow stain on one side of the onesie that was either from formula or breast milk. There was no way to really tell without asking.

And I felt a tear leak out of my eye.

God.

My eyes flicked up to Mary, and I wondered if Dante had thought to save any of her clothes.

Marianne wouldn’t have had a chance to save any, would she?

It was the first quilt I’d seen like it. Likely not every parent saved all those clothes. But I knew, if the impossible ever happened and I became a parent, I’d save them. Then I’d make something exactly like it.

I’d just repositioned, moving Mary to rest a little more comfortably in the crook of my leg, and tried to ignore the pain.

While I was doing that, Mary chose that moment to throw up.

Whatever green she’d eaten earlier projectiled everywhere. All over the quilt, all over the floor.

And some of it even hit the wall.

Oh, no.

“Dante!”

He came running, and at first, he wasn’t mad. Then he saw the quilt, and his entire body strung tight like a bowstring.

He gently pulled Mary up and out of my arms, walking away without a word.

I got up myself, folded the quilt into itself, and took it to the laundry room.

My intention was to clean it, but within moments of me getting to the laundry room with it, he followed me in there, ripped it out of my hands, and walked it out to the garage without another word.

I followed him, watched as he took the quilt to the trash, then angrily slammed it down. The lid followed.

Without a word or a glance at me, he stormed back inside and shut the door.

I went to the trash, pulled the quilt out, and then took it back inside.

He was nowhere to be seen, which worked out.

With what little strength I had, I washed the quilt. Cleaned it, dried it, and then laid it back delicately on the couch.

All the while Dante stayed sequestered in his room.

Day 14 Post Surgery

“Today you need to write your eviction letter,” Dante ordered.

I blinked, then turned.

“Have you heard any more?”

Dante nodded.

“Jack got the number off the side of the box. From what I was able to understand, it’s ammo. Not the guns that they were originally thinking. The ammo itself is all military surplus, though. It was sold at an auction for pennies on the dollar due to the sheer amount that was sold. However, the buyer was a guy out of Florida. He reported the shipment missing about a month ago. Apparently, this is connected to some case that Rafe is working on, but that’s all he would give me. I hadn’t even realized he was working a case, so whatever we did helped him out. However, we’re all agreed that you should evict him. Rafe, I think, is hoping that they’ll move the shipment to where other stolen items are being held—in which I’m not supposed to know about. So, don’t go sharing that I know.”

He gave me a pointed look, and I saluted him.

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

Then flicked the tip of my nose with one blunt finger.

It made my breath catch.

Day 15 Post Surgery

Dante and Mary were in Mary’s room. Dante was trying to get Mary asleep, and Mary was fighting it with everything she had. Dante would get her to sleep, though, hopefully for the night.

I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, starving.

So hungry, in fact, that I’d actually been able to get up and find myself something to eat instead of waiting for Dante.

Dante did TV dinners.

He did a lot of sandwiches, and he also did a lot of frozen corn dogs.

What he did not do was cook—at least well. He tried, yes. But trying and excelling were two different things.

Craving something hot that didn’t come out of a box that wasn’t housing frozen food, I took it upon myself to look through his cabinets.

His mother had come over and stocked the pantry the day before, and my eyes lit on the box of macaroni that was just sitting on the shelf.

Not wanting to bother Dante, I shuffled to the cabinets and started to open them. I didn’t stop until I found a pot big enough to fit two boxes of macaroni.

Once I had it going—my chest starting to ache—I’d walked to the fridge to get a drink.

Opening both doors out of habit, my eyes lit on the ice cream.

Smiling, I pulled it out, placed it on the counter, and then shuffle-walked to the cabinet I’d seen the bowls in earlier.

Once I had a bowl and a spoon, I went back to the table and took a seat.

It took me another five minutes before I could find the strength to scoop any ice cream out. Another five to get the lid back on and look at my pitiful amount of ice cream—who knew how many muscles you worked that were in your chest—which also happened to be sore?

So, there I was, sitting there, eating my ice cream and waiting for the water to boil on the stove when Dante came in.

At first, he only smiled when he saw me there.

But then his eyes lit on the bowl—a cute little pink bowl that said ‘Yum!’ on it.

His eyes went all wonky, and he left the room without another word.

I never saw him again that evening, but in the middle of the night when I got up for a glass of water, I saw the same bowl broken into about ten pieces in the trash. Along with the spoon that I’d used—another one that was shaped differently than all the others.

And that was when I realized that they must’ve been his wife’s, and he most certainly didn’t like me using them.

Day 16 Post Surgery

Mary was back. And when I say Mary was back, I meant she was back. There were no more fevers. No more sitting still in anybody’s lap, mine or her daddy’s. No more throwing up. And there was no more up all night, sleep all day. She was back on her routine. She was back to her grandmother’s, and I was back left alone.

Only, I wasn’t left alone at my own house. I was left alone at Dante’s house.

Dante’s house that was covered with another woman’s life.

There were signs of his family everywhere.

On the mantle. On the walls. In the bathroom with the pretty pink towels.

So, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries that I couldn’t see. Which meant that I literally sat on the couch, or on the bed he’d ordered me to sleep in, and I hadn’t ventured anywhere.

Dante left at seven in the morning. He got home at five in the evening. I never once moved but to go to the bathroom.

Hell, I hadn’t even eaten.

I was scared to.

My stomach was practically eating itself, and I was on the verge of crying because I was told not to take pain medication on an empty stomach.

I’d already planned on weaning myself off of the good drugs, but I hadn’t meant to get off of them that early.

Dante walked in the door with a box of chicken hanging off of one finger by the little paper handle, a gallon of sweet tea off of another finger, and Mary’s diaper bag hooked on another.

Mary was on his hip, and the moment that they both got inside, I smiled.

It was a tired smile.

One that clearly relayed how much pain I was in, causing Dante to immediately zero his eyes in on me.

“You in pain?”

Couldn’t hide anything from him, I supposed.

“A little,” I lied.

I was in a whole fuckin’ lot of pain.

Hence not bothering to get up and move over the last two hours.

Hell, I’d been stuck watching old reruns of Roseanne for the last two hours because the remote had dropped on the floor when I’d sat down after going to the bathroom.

“You need to eat,” he growled.

I wanted to eat. But the act of chewing made my chest hurt—at least at this point.

How? Why? I had no fuckin’ clue, but it did.

“Okay,” I murmured.

He walked away without another word, and I looked over at Mary as she steadily fed a handful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“Good?” I asked her.

“Goo!” she agreed.

Or at least I thought she agreed.

“Here.”

I looked up to find Dante heading back toward me, a white pain pill in one hand and a cup of sweet tea in the other.

I reached up to take the pill from him, but the act of lifting my arm caused everything to scream at me not to do it.

My hand dropped back to the table.

He looked at me, eyes hard and angry, and brought the pill up to my lips using two fingers.

I opened my mouth, tried to swallow the pill, and nearly choked when it got hung in the back of my throat.

He gave an exasperated sound, brought the cup up to my lips, and tilted it.

I swallowed greedily, then pulled away when I was finished.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Dante’s lips twitched. “Welcome.”

Day 17 Post Surgery

I took my pain pills today.

I also ordered pizza around lunchtime when I started to get hungry.

And by ordering it, I meant that I texted Hannah—who’d given me her phone number if I ever needed anything—and begged her to bring me something to eat.

She did, but not without asking questions.

“I know that you are hungry, but I remember Dante’s mother grocery shopping. She filled her cart nearly all the way up. There’s no way you don’t have enough food here.”

I looked down at my feet.

“A few days ago, I tried to eat ice cream. He saw me eating the ice cream in the bowl and then smashed the bowl to smithereens, I assume it belonged to his wife. A few days before that, I covered up with his quilt made out of his children’s baby clothes. Mary threw up on it. He threw it away.”

Hannah’s eyes looked understanding.

Day 18 Post Surgery

“Oreos shouldn’t be anything but the original,” he said, staring with dawning horror at the screen, which showed the newest Oreo trend. “That’s goddamned disgusting.”

I agreed, but I never gave up the chance to play devil’s advocate.

My grandfather had taught me that arguing was good. It showed that you had a vested interest in what you were speaking about. That you were passionate. Quick-witted.

God, I missed him.

“They don’t look too bad,” I said. “And pumpkin spice is the trend in the fall.”

He looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. “You’re honestly going to tell me that you think Pumpkin Spice Oreos are going to be any good?”

I kept my smile hidden. “I’ll let you know when I try them. They have potential.”

He gagged. “Gross.”

“Let me guess,” I drawled. “You probably only like the original ones. The ones that have the normal layer of cream on them.”

He raised his brows at me. “Is that a bad thing?”

“More cream is always better,” I found myself saying.

I didn’t agree with that. In fact, I loved the thin ones. The ones that had a very minimal layer of cream. My favorite part was the cookie itself.

“Whatever you say.”

I grinned as I turned my eyes back to the television screen. But the grin wasn’t due to my argument that I’d started. It was due to the fact that he’d smiled.

Smiled.

And it damn near stopped my heart.

“I like it when you smile,” I found myself saying.

Dante’s smile slowly fell from his face, but his eyes stayed on mine.

“Haven’t really had a reason to smile lately,” he murmured. “I haven’t laughed like I have the last two weeks since…they died.”

His inability to say the actual words—since my wife and children died—was telling.

I looked over at where Mary was asleep on the couch.

“You have her,” I murmured. “And you now have me. Don’t let it go so long again.”

Dante winked.

He freakin’ winked!

And then he turned his eyes back to the TV.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Day 19 Post Surgery

I was back in my own home, and that was largely due to the fact that Dante wasn’t there to stop me.

I knew I’d hear about it when he got home from work, but it was time.

I was becoming too dependent on him. That, and I was afraid that I was falling in love with him.

In love with a man that I knew was about as emotionally distant as a vacuum cleaner.

So yes, I’d gone home. And yes, I’d decided not to tell him that I was doing it.

Why? Because I knew if I had told him, then he’d have tried his level best to get me to stay.