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He knew better. He knew there was too much between them for any touch to be casual, but he couldn’t just stand there as she broke down. Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
She stiffened, her hands frozen around a wooden spoon. Strangled sobs hiccuped through her body.
“Shh.” Rami eased the spoon from her hands. “You’ve never done this before. It’s not going to be perfect on the first try.”
After a moment, her body relaxed. In his arms, she leaned back against him, let him hold her weight. He rested his chin on top of her head, breathing in the smell of her, that potent mate scent that sent his world spinning around her.
“It’s cooking, Rami. Anyone can figure it out. Except me, because I missed the domestic route ten years ago, and apparently, there’s no going back now.” She sniffled.
“I don’t think that’s true. You might not be a domestic goddess, but there’s always time to learn, if that’s something you want to do.” He’d never imagined her in that role, apron on, vacuuming the house, and fixing dinner, but then he’d never imagined her with kids either. There was more to Vera than he knew. “Do you want that?”
She twisted in his arms, looking up at him with tear-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “It’s so embarrassing. Maybe I do?”
The last was said in a voice so small he could barely hear the words, even with her standing so close to him. He tilted her chin up with his fingers so she was looking at him again.
“It’s not embarrassing.”
Her forehead dropped against his chest, and she scoffed. “It is. I had a career. A good one. Prestigious, even. Then I throw it all away because I think maybe I want something else? I think I’m having some kind of early midlife crisis. Maybe I’ll buy a cherry red convertible next just to round out the cliche. Find myself a frat boy to date.”
His fingers tightened against her back at that. The thought of her in another man’s arms was enough to make him puke. He’d given up all claim to her when he’d dumped her and pushed thoughts of what her moving on would look like to the back of his mind, but she washismate.
He loosened his grip on her shirt and smoothed his hands down her back to her hips. “I’ll help you pick one out.”
“A frat boy?” She asked, nose wrinkling. “Be a bit of an awkward wingman, don’t you think?”
“Excuse you, I’d be a great wingman.” He wouldn’t, unless Vera’s goal was to send every man running. “But no, a convertible.”
“That’s very kind of you.” She gave one final sniffle and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
Rami reached around her and turned the burners off. Whatever was in there was already beyond the point of saving, but perhaps the pots themselves were salvageable.
“Let’s start simple.” He was reluctant to let her go.
When would she let him hold her again? Much as he hated seeing her cry, he didn’t hate that he got to comfort her, got to feel her against him again. But he didn’t want her to think he was trying to jump back into a relationship after she’d told him she was done. He had to earn it.
“Maybe we should just order pizza.” Vera looked forlornly around the kitchen. “This is a disaster area. It should be cordoned off. Remember finishing schools? Are those still a thing? I should’ve gone there instead of vet school.”
“You’re an amazing vet. That would’ve been a waste of your talents and your passion.” Rami meant it. The way she had lit up whenever she’d tell him about a particularly difficult patient she’d helped that day had made it obvious. “But you can be more than one thing. Like me, I’m not just a nerdy bookseller.”
“Right.” Vera nodded eagerly. “You’re also a jerk.”
“Not quite where I was heading with that, but the point stands. If you want to learn to cook, we’ll learn. Together. Where I can supervise you and ensure the house doesn’t burn down.”
She considered him for a moment, leaning back against the counter, cheek still painted with tomato sauce. He liked her attention on him, the way her eyes lingered on his lips like she was thinking about kissing him in spite of herself. Her lips thinned.
“Fine. But don’t get your hopes up for any more of this.” She pointed her fingers at herself and then back at him a few times. “There’s no touching involved in cooking. Got it? Strictly professional.”
“Scout’s honor,” he agreed.
They worked together to clean up the mess she’d already made, scraping the ruined food into the compost before scouring the pans clean. As he wiped the pans dry, Jessa bumped into the back of his knees, using the plastic walker as a battering ram. Vera laughed and scooped the baby up, nuzzling her cheek.
“You get ‘im.” She checked the clock. “It’s time for her bottle. Mind if I do it?”
“Go for it. I’ll have us set up by the time you’re finished.”
Vera mixed up the formula and sat down at the kitchen table to feed Jessa. He felt her eyes on his back as he worked, wiping the counters clean and starting to pull the supplies out for dinner attempt number two. Rami tried to keep his attention on his task. It was almost impossible not to steal peeks over his shoulder to glimpse the two of them, his mate and his baby, safe in his home.
He admired the way Vera tried everything she did and slid into her role as nanny despite her lack of experience. He even admired the way she’d questioned him, pushing back on the need for a routine in Jessa’s life even though he was her father. She wasn’t afraid to voice her opinions.
