When I’m on the road, we’d text. Call. Video chat if there’s time. Trade pictures from our day and late-night wish-you-were-here, and maybe a little sexy talk. I know her work is demanding, deadlines always breathing down her neck. I’d never want to take her away from that.
But then…
Kids.
The thought comes quietly, but it hits with surprising clarity. She wants them. It’s obvious in the way she lights up around Zoe and Grant. But her career. It comes first. And I respect the hell out of that. But it’s clear she wants a family too.
Still…if we did have kids someday, and I was away for games, we could get help. A nanny, maybe. Except she doesn’t like that idea. She’d want to be there. Present. The same way she is right now—with me. How can she have the two things she wants most, without sacrificing something? I’d never ask her to do that. So how can she possibly have the future she wants, especially with a guy who is on the road as much as I am?
Maybe it just can’t work.
We reach my car and her eyes are narrowed as she glances up at me. “Something on your mind?” she asks.
“Yes, my kitchen,” I wink, not wanting to delve into my heavy thoughts tonight or ever.
That brings a smile to her face. “Good, because I have something special for you.”
I open the passenger side door. “Want me to drive?” she asks, her gaze searching my tired face.
“No, driving actually relaxes me, but I appreciate the offer.”
She slides into the passenger seat, and honestly while I like the idea of her taking care of me, I will always want to take care of her, even when I’m exhausted. I hop in and we drive home. When I reach my place, she gives me an excited look, and I can’t help but think she’s up to something.
I hurry in, anxious to have her alone and when we step inside my place, warm familiar scents greet me. “You cooked?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” She laughs and takes my hand.
“What did you cook?”
“Only your favorite. It’s in the crockpot.”
I stop halfway down the hall and she turns to me, her head angled. “When did you do this?”
“When you were getting ready for the game. I wanted to surprise you.”
My heart swells, warmth at her sweetness going through me. “Rowyn, you didn’t have to cook for me.”
“I wanted you to have something hardy when you got home. I know how hard you work out there. So I made a call.”
“You made a call? To who?”
Instead of answering, she pulls me along to the kitchen and I step up to the crock pot to see chicken and dumplings.
I stare at it for at least five seconds as my brain races. “You called Mom. Got her recipe.”
“Yeah, it won’t be as good as hers, but I tried.”
“Babe.” I pull her into my arms and kiss the living hell out of her. “It will be better than hers because you made this for me.”
She smiles and then steps up to the cupboard “No,” I say forcefully. She spins, confusion on her face. “No, you sit, I serve.” She looks like she’s about to protest so I take her by the shoulders and guide her to the table. Once she’s seated, I pour her a glass of wine and serve up the delicious meal. My stomach growls at the amazing smell as I carry two bowls to the table.
We go quiet, the only sounds are moans of pleasure as we dig in and once our bowls are half full, I glance at her. “How was your day, Row? How’s the town hall story going?”
She shrugs. “It’s going.”
Funny, her voice lacks the enthusiasm I heard that first night I slid next to her at Kilting Around and pretended to be her boyfriend.
Since it appears she doesn’t want to talk about it, I ask, “Rowyn, how did you manage this meal after a full day of work.”