Carol picked up a fork and pricked holes in the scrubbed potatoes. “So when you grew up you did the opposite, right?”
Emily let out a little laugh and thought about how she had described her parents. She’d done the same thing, though not on purpose. For years, Emily had done her own thing and Cole had worked. The only saving grace—they hadn’t caught a child in the middle of that mess. Not until now. Emily covered her belly with her palm. When Sweet Pea arrived, she vowed to give her baby the childhood Emily had never had. “I pretty much carbon copied their life. At least I’m smart enough to get out before bringing kids into that...mess.”
“Oh, I don’t know if it’s the same thing. I saw your parents together. If they were ever in love, it wasn’t there by the time they started coming up here in the summers. You and Cole on the other hand...” Carol shrugged.
“Me and Cole what?”
“There’s still feelings there. Whether you believe it or not.” Carol put the potatoes in the oven beside a chicken roasting on the middle rack.
“That’s just because he doesn’t want to accept that it’s over.” Emily took the colander to the sink and ran cool water over the green beans.
“If you ask me, he’s not the only one who still cares.” Carol put her back to the counter and faced Emily. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Heat rushed to Emily’s face. “That’s just the hormones.” Even as she said the words, though, she knew there was more involved than a rush of hormonal input. She’d kissed him back, with as much desire and depth as he had kissed her. The familiar rush of heat had risen in her, and still simmered in her gut, even now.
She still cared about him, and always would. Love...
She’d avoid that word and combining it with the name Cole. Smarter to do that than to get wrapped up in a fantasy, instead of reality.
Carol just hmmed at that and started the dishes. Emily picked up a dish towel to help dry, but Carol shooed her away. “You’re still a guest here, missy. So go do what guests do and relax.”
Emily headed outside, forgetting until she heard the tapping of a hammer on nails that Cole was out here, working. Still. She started to turn around and head back into the inn when Cole called out to her.
“Hey, do you mind helping me for a second?” he said. “I could really use a second pair of hands.”
He was holding a long board in one hand, a hammer in the other. With the tool belt slung across his hips and sawdust peppering his jeans and work boots, he looked relaxed. Sexy.
A few minutes of helping Cole would be about being nice, not about getting close to him and admiring his body. Or the heat that still rushed through her veins whenever he was near.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Just hold one end in place. I’m trying to get the rest of the siding repaired on this side of the building, but first I have to fit this fascia board in place.”
She stared at him. They’d built the New York house from the ground up, and though Emily had been in charge of the decisions about faucets and paint colors, Cole had handled all the construction details, because he had spent so many years working on houses and knew the lingo. “Fascia board?”
“It goes up there.” Cole pointed to the roofline ten feet above them.
She couldn’t see any way that Cole could do this job alone, not without risking a broken neck. “Okay. Just don’t ask me to hammer. You know how I am with tools.”
“Oh, I remember, Emily.” He winked at her. “My thumb remembers, too.”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “Again.”
Cole got on one of the ladders and waited for Emily to get on the other one. They stepped up in tandem, until he had the board in place under the gutter and she had aligned her edge with the roofline.
“I’m just teasing you about my thumb,” he said with a smile. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“That’s not what you said that day. All we were doing was hanging some pictures, and you made it into a major project. Tape measure, level, laying out the frame placement with masking tape. Our house wasn’t the Louvre, you know.” She grinned.
“So I’m a little anal about those kinds of things.”
“A little?” She arched a brow.
“Okay, a lot. I guess I deserved having you hit my thumb with the hammer.”
“Well, as long as we’re admitting weaknesses, I guess I was a little impatient. I just wanted the whole thing to be done.” She shrugged. “I could have gone slower, and maybe not given you a hammer whack in the process.”
“Even if I deserved it?”
She laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me.”
He fiddled with the board, aligning it better, then grabbing a nail out of the tool belt and sinking the first one into the plywood. “You know, I think that was the last time we ever worked together on something.”
“It was.” Emily shifted her weight. A wave of light-headedness hit her, but she shrugged it off. “It’s no wonder. That day didn’t go very well.” It had ended with a fight and Cole sleeping on the couch, too, but Emily didn’t mention that. They had an easy détente between them now, and she wanted to preserve that peace a while longer.
“True,” he said softly. “Let’s hope this goes better.”
“It should.” She grinned. “We’re on opposite ends of the board.”
Cole laughed, then dug in his tool belt for a few more nails, hammering them in one at a time. “All appendages accounted for?” he asked her.
“Yup.” The light-headedness hit her again, and she leaned into the ladder, shifting her grip on the board again. “You almost done?”
“A few more nails. Hold on a second. I have to move my ladder down toward you.” He climbed down, shifted the ladder a few feet forward, then climbed back up and started hammering again.
A wave of nausea and dizziness slammed into Emily. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t ease the feeling. Her face heated, she swayed again. All she wanted was to get off this ladder. Now.
“Cole, I...I need to get down.” She let go of the board, gripped the ladder and climbed down to the ground. The light-headedness persisted so she sat on the edge of the porch, under the cool shadow of the overhang.
In an instant, Cole was there, the board forgotten, his voice filled with concern. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just got a little dizzy being up so high.”
“Then you sit. Or, if you want, go inside. I can handle this. The hard part is all done.”
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” She waved him off, part of her wanting him to hold her close and tell her it was all okay, the other part wishing he would go away and leave her be. Heck, wasn’t that how she had felt for the past six months? Torn between wanting him close and wanting him gone.
It was as if she couldn’t quite give up on the dream. Couldn’t let go of the hope that this could all work out. Their marriage was like the Gingerbread Inn, Emily realized. In desperate need of major repairs and a lot of TLC.
The only difference? The inn wasn’t past the point of no return yet. Their marriage, on the other hand, was. If anything told her that, it was the conversation the other night about kids where Cole made it clear he wasn’t on the same page as she was. Now she was having a baby her husband didn’t want, and the sooner she accepted that,