Page 149 of Cautious Love

“Water is fine.”

He sits to my right and holds the plate for me to take what I want. I take a bite, and the mashed potatoes melt in my mouth.No, Shiloh, don’t let the food distract you.

“So I—”

“This is—”

We both speak at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Ledger says.

“No, no, you first,” I mumble.

He nods and disappears down the hall.

I force myself to eat slowly because I could shovel this into my mouth and tell him I need to go. It would be the right thing to do. But I can’t… or maybe because I don’t want to.

Ledger approaches the table with a massive box in his hands, sets it on the counter, then leaves again. He comes back with a small barrel in his arms, and I force myself not to burst into tears.

“I got you something,” he says.

I stare at the box I assume is a still because of the white oak barrel. I can smell the perfect oaky char from here.

“Did I get the wrong one?” he asks.

I’m still sitting in my chair staring because he remembered my interest in something I let go of because it was too out of bounds for me. Some dreams aren’t meant to come true, and they stay that way — dreams.

He should be angry, not cooking me dinner andbuying me gifts.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I rasp.

His jaw ticks. “I didn’t get you the ingredients. Honestly, I tried, but then you were saying something about the perfect amount or something like that, and I didn’t want to buy you the wrong thing.”

Speechless, I open the box. It’s a brand new copper still. Bigger than I ever had. I got the smallest one, the only one I could afford. This is ten times the size of the one I used to have. I might be able to get a full bottle out of this.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Ledger shrugs and goes back to the table. “You don’t have to say anything.”

I follow him back to the table and force myself to eat the beautiful meal he made for us.

When we finish dinner, I help him clean up the kitchen, and it’s just like old times. He takes Dozer outside, while I walk around the freshly painted living room and smile at the half-done puzzle on his coffee table. I take a piece and spot its place, and slide it in.

“I’ve been working on that one for a while,” he says.

“Looks like a hard one. The pieces are tiny.”

He shrugs. “Helps my mind stop … running.”

“So, do you want a drink, maybe watch a movie?” he asks.

The weight of guilt builds on my chest, and I don’t know how much longer I can carry it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, coming closer.

Too close for comfort.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But, um, I have an early shift. I should probably get going.”Because I’m a house of cards, and if I stay here any longer, I will come crashing down.