Cane’s body stilled, his heart picking up speed beneath my cheek.
“He was thrilled. So I was supposed to go home on that Tuesday. But on Sunday Ashley told me she was pregnant with my baby.”
I pulled my head back in shock as my stomach fell to the floor. I pushed a swallow down my constricted throat, the thought of a baby Cane running around Rhode Island making me sick. “Really?”
He laughed menacingly. “Really. So Dad calls me Monday night to go over my travel plans and stuff and I told him what Ashley said. He was really disappointed, angry, all that stuff.”
Cane adjusted his position but made sure I didn’t leave his side. “He had finally decided to buy this property in Queen Creek that belonged to this widow lady, even though it was a mess. There was a guy that owned a small piece of land next to this parcel that wanted it, too, and he was driving potential buyers away so he could end up getting it for a cheaper price.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “That other guy was Simon’s dad.”
“Did he go ahead and buy it?”
“We were on the phone. He was telling me he had made an offer and how I had messed up by knocking Ashley up. That I should be there learning from him, helping him. All of a sudden, I could hear a change in his voice and he said he needed to get off the phone. He said he thought he was being followed and the car behind him had begun driving really erratically. So we hung up. And an hour or so later, Max called that my dad had died in a car crash.”
All the air left my body. “Cane! What happened?”
He nudged my head back down to his chest. I wasn’t sure if he needed me close or didn’t want me to see his face as he recalled the tragedy, but I leaned against him.
“Well, of course I thought of Simon’s dad, Lee’s his name, immediately. The police originally ruled it an accident, but I came home right away and hired a private investigator. Nick worked on it for a few months before it was proven that it was Lee that did it.”
He bent down and kissed my head. “And, for the record, the baby thing was a boldfaced lie. So there is no little Cane running around.”
“I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.”
“Yeah, well this is my burden to bear, not yours. I hate talking about this. I just thought it was time for me to try to be open with you, you know?”
“Thank you, Cane.”
He pulled the blankets up over us. “Sleep now, beautiful girl.”
“Are you awake?” Cane nudged me in the side as I lay next to him.
“I am now,” I answered sleepily.
“I have a craving.”
“Cane!” I laughed, wiping my eyes to help me wake up.
“What? Oh, you thought I mean for you?”
“I’ll play along. What do you have a craving for, Mr. Alexander?”
“Chocolate chip cookies,” he whispered.
“Are you serious?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s one in the morning.”
“I can’t help it. I want chocolate chip cookies.”
I fell onto my back and sighed. “Do you have some Chips Ahoy or something?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sure there’s a grocery open around here. This is a major metropolitan area.”
He leaned in close and whispered, “I want us to make them.”
“You want us to make homemade chocolate chip cookies right now?”
He nodded his head eagerly like a child.
“Do you have the stuff to make them?” I yawned again.
He shrugged. “Probably. We can always improvise.”
“Cane, you can’t ‘improvise’ when baking. You have to follow the instructions.”
“I’ve never been good at that,” he said stubbornly. “Come on.”
He hopped off the bed and dragged me across it by my hand.
“Cane!” I shrieked, laughing at his ridiculousness.
He held onto my hand and led me to the kitchen, flipping on the light.
“Okay,” I said, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness. “Do you have a recipe book or something?”
“Yeah, I’m looking at it,” he said, cocking his head at me.
“Heaven help me,” I muttered, throwing my head back in exasperation. “I’m sure there’s an app for this. Where are our phones?”
“Yours is dead. Shocker, I know. And mine is upstairs somewhere and I’m not going to look for it.”
“Cane. How are we supposed to do this without a recipe?”
“Have you never made cookies before?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, a few times. But—”
“Nope. No but’s. What do we need?” He looked at me expectantly. “You know what? Fuck it. We will make our own recipe. It can’t be hard. I’ve watched some of those cooking shows. They have no idea what they’re doing. Except the hot Italian one. That chick can do whatever she wants.”
I had never seen Cane so spontaneous, so playful. Where is this coming from? He was typically so controlled, so scheduled. To see him like this—carefree and excited—was quite entertaining.