“All right. I’ll walk you through... What were you thinking you were going to do?”
“Make steak.”
“Right. Fantastic. What else did I get you?”
“I don’t know. Green stuff. Green beans.”
“Okay. I will walk you through very simple pan-fried steak and green beans. Do you have potatoes? I’m pretty sure I brought you potatoes.”
“Meat and potatoes,” Cricket said. “Perfect.”
And in the end, she barely broke a sweat over the whole thing and managed to put together something that smelled pretty darn decent.
“Thank you,” she said to her sister.
“Seriously. Are you okay? Because I feel like this is the most we’ve talked in...ever.”
“I don’t know,” Cricket said. “I mean, I know I’m okay. I just don’t really know how to explain us not talking. Except... I spent a lot of years hiding. Running as fast as I could through childhood. Through that house. I hated it there. I always did. I never felt at home. I never felt like one of you. I don’t want to be mean, but nothing with James really surprised me.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to call him Dad. “He wasn’t cruel to me, nothing like that. It’s just that he didn’t care about me at all, and there was something in that way that he dismissed everything I was that... Nobody ever saw me—and it wasn’t your job to. I was a kid and you were teenagers, and then you were having lives. You went off to school. I didn’t do that.”
“You could have.”
“Maybe,” Cricket said. “But I didn’t know what I wanted anyway. I guess that’s the thing. I’ve never fit. And I’ve been searching for the place where I do. I think I might’ve found it.”
She might have found her family.
“And now it feels... I don’t know, I feel more like talking.”
Because even if Cash Cooper was her real father, her mother, Wren and Emerson were still her family. But if her suspicions were right, Cricket could finally disavow that piece of herself that had never really fit. It would all suddenly make sense.
“I can understand that. I always felt like I was being wedged into a life that I didn’t fully want. I embraced it, and I care about the winery—I’m happy to work on it now—but, you know, I’m working toward my architectural engineering degree because it’s something I always wanted. But I always knew I couldn’t because Dad didn’t want me to do it, because it wasn’t useful to him.”
“Believe me,” Cricket said. “I do understand that being in his sights wasn’t necessarily better. I really do.”
“I know. It’s not a competition. A tough childhood is a tough childhood. Whether you’re in a nice house, whether your dad pays attention to you... Doesn’t really matter. It is what it is. I mean, we were better off than a lot of people. But it doesn’t take away the things that weren’t great.”
“I know. Anyway. I... I think I’m going to be happier.”
“I’m happier,” Wren said. “I think Emerson and I weren’t really that much different than you, when you think about it. We started our own lives. Really and truly. And even though we are still maintaining our stakes in the wineries, we have more than that. We are more than that. The winery was never for you. And it’s a good thing that you’re finding the thing that you want.”
Cricket nodded, and then after exchanging farewells, hung up the phone. Just in time for Jackson to return with a whole bag full of supplies. He had his cowboy hat on, his jacket. He was such a striking figure. Because he was an emblem. Of what she wanted. Of the life she was hoping to find.
Because he represented something that fit. That was it. That was all it could be, and she had to really know that, understand it.
Had to understand what the extra thump of her heart meant. The jitter in her stomach.
She had to.
She had no choice.
“Smells good,” he said.
Deep pride swelled in her chest. “Really?” She cleared her throat. “I mean. Sure. Impossible to mess up a decent steak.”
Except she had a feeling it was very possible and if she hadn’t been receiving instructions the entire time, she would’ve definitely done so.
“Well, I didn’t realize I would be receiving payment in the form of steak.”
“I do try. Food first,” she said. “Then you can get to the plumbing.” She served their plates and sat across from him. In the tiny kitchen, it felt incredibly...domestic.
It was such a world apart from the life she usually lived. She’d grown up with a grand banquet hall set for every dinner. Her dad all the way down at one end away from the rest of them. This little square table with peeling red paint felt homey in a way dinners never had. And Jackson smelled like soap and skin, close enough for her to get the scent. It was simple. Down-home and perfect in a way she’d always wanted things to be.
There had been a time when she’d dreamed of this. Sitting at a table with Jackson. Asking about his day, having him ask about hers.
Her Jackson fantasies had run the gamut over the years, but they’d always led to one conclusion. The only place for her was beside him.
That had terrified her before six months ago, because—as she’d gotten older—she’d realized what her feelings must mean, and she’d been unhappy with them. Ready to perform an exorcism, in all honesty.
She didn’t want to get married and be miserable like her mother was.
It had been a relief to discover the real truth behind her feelings.
“What were your dinners like growing up?” she asked.
She was hungry. But not for steak. She wanted to know him. His family. What his life was like, and how hers might have been.
“Well, something like this. I mean, we started with a house that was pretty similar to this. It expanded as time went on.”
“And that changed things? I mean, for all of you?”
“I guess so. I’m probably the only one who really remembers the change. Who really remembers what it was like before. Or... I don’t know. Creed probably does to an extent. Not Honey, though.”
“Right.” So that wouldn’t have been different. If she had grown up with them, she would have been like Honey. She wouldn’t have known what it was like to have normal family meals around the table. She knew that being wealthy was a privilege. It wasn’t that. It was easy to romanticize things you didn’t have. Easy to look at them in a simple way. She knew that too.
She wasn’t stupid.