Page 48 of First Surrender
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He was worth it.”
“That might be the case but if it was your goal…”
She waves me off. “My dream was to work as a private chef on big expensive yachts. I wanted to set out for months at a time and leave everything behind.” She sighs. “It was only a dream though. My goal now is to give him a childhood that he doesn’t have to recover from.”
“Nat- Natalie,” I plead with her. “Once everything is settled, you should pursue it again. Maybe no yachts, but you could still make a living, and be happy.”
She shakes her head in response but mumbles, “Maybe.”
She shouldn’t have to give up everything. She deserves a life too.
“I’ll give you $1000 a week to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for six days. I’ll cancel my meal service and whatever you don’t use for groceries, you keep. Deal?”
Her jaw drops. “That’s way more than I made at the coffee shack a week.”
“Good, then you won’t miss it.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just about people seeing my ass?”
My jaw clenches even thinking about other people seeing her ass, but no, it’s also about Dec. “If you’re worried that the change will be too sudden, you can always wear your uniform here.” I motion to the kitchen.
“You’re a pig.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Natalie
“I’ve never seen this fridge with so much in it,” Jackson mumbles after we put all the groceries away. We got a late-night order delivered before I helped Dec settle for bed.
“I don’t understand how you’ve survived without cooking. You look like you eat well.”
He whips his head toward me. “Was that a fat joke?”
I roll my eyes. “No. It wasn’t a fat joke, Hercules.”
Anyone with two eyes can see how built he is. There isn’t anything pudgy about him. He is all hard, toned muscle. Under all that, there seems to be more to him than I ever realized. I never would have guessed that he’d come home and build computer systems or sit meticulously for hours and create such incredible things. It makes him seem endearing somehow and more human.
It’s easier seeing him as a one-sided coin, a stiff robot who wears a badge. Getting to know him only makes him more likable and it aggravates me.
Why does he have to be perfect at everything that he does? I’m not perfect at anything.
I pull the plastic containers out of the fridge and crack open a lid. The smell of old processed chicken and rice hits me like a brick and helps me humble him in my mind. “Oh my God.That’s bad. That’s really bad.” I gag, literally. A loud, unladylike reaction that I could not have prevented if I tried.
“It’s not that bad once it’s warm, you’re being dramatic.”
“No, I’m not. That’s rancid.” I chuck all the containers into the trash. It’s been a long time since anything has grossed me out like that. I know how to de-feather chickens and de-bone fish, I thought I was past the food heebie-jeebies.
“My mom cooked a lot when I was growing up but I was too busy outside playing to take notice. Then she started having memory issues. She couldn’t remember recipes or steps and would burn everything. After I graduated high school, I stayed home and went to the community college so I could work full-time in the evenings. I wasn’t home enough to cook for myself. Now I’m so busy, cooking is the last thing I want to experiment with when I get home. I don’t have the energy for it.”
“What did your mom do when she was home alone so much?”
“She could make sandwiches and use the microwave. One scary situation with the stove being left on was all it took to pull the cord from the wall. It stayed like that for years.”
I glance at his brand new top-of-the-line oven and suddenly see it in a new light. It is completely untouched because he existed without one for so long. I almost bet if I looked behind it I would find the plug lying on the ground collecting dust.
“When did she get really bad?”