Rebecca Winters - One Winter's Sunset

He wore only a pair of old gray sweatpants that she knew well. He’d had them for as long as she could remember, the fleece worn and soft as butter. His chest was bare, and the desire that had been burning inside her all day roared to life again. Her hand flexed at her side, itching to touch the hard muscular planes, to draw his warmth to her.

“Great minds think alike,” Cole said, taking a step closer and gesturing toward the pie.

“Do you want a piece?” Then she looked down and realized she’d taken the last of the pie. “Sorry. Um, would you like to share?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She pulled open the drawer and handed a second fork to Cole. He leaned over one side of the kitchen island, she leaned over the other side and they each took a bite of the pie. Their heads were so close, they nearly touched. It was so much like the early days, when they’d been inseparable and in love, that Emily could almost believe she’d gone back in time. She ached to run her fingers through Cole’s dark hair, to kiss the crumbs off his lips, to giggle when his shadowy stubble tickled her chin.

“Carol’s pies are legendary,” she said instead.

“I can see why.”

Emily forked up another bite. “The other Gingerbread Girls and I would sneak down here in the middle of the night all the time and eat the leftovers. She’d yell at us in the morning, but half the time she was laughing at the same time. And sometimes she’d bake an extra pie, just so we’d have one to scavenge.”

“Those must have been some amazing summers,” Cole said.

“They were. Some of my best memories are wrapped up in this place.” She sighed. “I’m going to hate to see it sold off and turned into condos or something awful like that.”

He scooped up some ice cream. “Why don’t I buy it? Let Carol run it...keep things as they are.”

Emily let out a gust. She put her fork down and leaned away from the counter. “Not everything can be fixed with money, Cole.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

She read honesty in his face, and relaxed. He had helped over the past few days, more than he knew. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to do more. After all, finding solutions to impossible situations was Cole’s specialty. He’d built a business on designing creative answers to customer problems.

For years, he’d been the one she relied on to solve everything from a checking account error to a strange noise coming from her engine. For the past six months, she’d relied only on herself. As scary as it had been, the independence had given her a newfound confidence. It was a feeling she wanted to keep, which meant no more running to Cole to fix the things that went awry. “Listen, I appreciate all the help you’re giving Carol with the repairs, I really do.”

“But...?”

She forked up some pie, but didn’t eat it. Instead, she turned to the fridge. “Do you want some milk?”

“Yes,” he said, coming around the counter to face her, “but I also want you to tell me what you aren’t saying.”

She grabbed the gallon jug, then two glasses, and poured them each an icy glass of milk. She slipped onto one of the bar stools and wrapped her hands around the glass. She debated whether to tell him what she was thinking, then decided she’d done enough of ignoring the issues, and maybe it was time to speak up instead of letting those thoughts simmer. “You have a tendency to throw money at a problem and then leave,” she said. “At least when it comes to us.”

He dropped into the opposite bar stool. “I don’t do that.”

“When something needed fixing at the house, you called someone to do it. When I needed to buy a new car, you called a friend at a dealership and had him show me the newest models. When I wanted to go on a vacation, you called a travel agent and told her to send me anywhere I wanted to go.”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s problem solving.”

Emily bit her lip, then raised her gaze to his. “The problem wasn’t the leaky faucet or the old car or the need for some time in the sun. It was that I wanted to do those things with you, Cole. I wanted you and me to install that faucet, even if it was messy and frustrating and time-consuming to do it. I wanted you to go with me to pick out a car, and go along on the test drive, and give me your opinion, then laugh when I bought what was prettiest. I wanted you to go on vacation with me and—” she exhaled “—just be. You and me for a few days.”

He reached up and brushed a tendril of hair off her head. “I never knew, Emily. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She slipped off the stool and away from his touch before she found herself in his arms again. In the darkened, silent room it was so tempting just to curve against Cole’s bare chest and to forget the separation, the problems between them, the difficult road yet to come. Instead she crossed to the window and looked out over the darkened lake beyond the trees. “I could say that I never said anything because you were never home to talk to, but really, that’s just an excuse. I never said anything because—” and now her throat swelled and tears rushed to her eyes “—I didn’t want to hear you say no.”

He was behind her in a second, wrapping her in his arms, and despite her resolve a second ago, she allowed herself to lean back into him, just this once, just for this minute. “I wouldn’t have said no, Emily.”

“Ah, but you did, Cole. A hundred times.” She stepped out of his embrace, and turned to face him. “Every time we went our separate ways, you to work, me to my charity work and golf dates and all those meaningless things that filled the hours between breakfast and bed, it added a little distance to the gulf between us. Eventually, that gulf got too wide, Cole, and crossing it was a Herculean task.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”

He took in her words, then nodded. “And to be honest, I don’t think I even realized that gulf existed until you asked for a separation. I had on these blinders that told me everything was just fine. When it was far from that.”

“That was my fault, too. I didn’t speak up.” Emily flicked a crumb off the counter and watched it skitter into the sink. “When I was growing up, my parents fought all the time. If they were getting along, it made me nervous. It was like being around a purring tiger. You never knew when it would lash out again. That made me afraid to rock the boat, so I’d let things go that I should have done something about.”

“I wish you had said something. I couldn’t read your mind, Em. Though Lord knows I tried.”

“Would you have listened?” She shifted closer to him. “You’ve been so dedicated to the company for so long that I don’t think you would have heard me if I’d said the house was on fire.”

“Well, I think I would have heard that.” He chuckled, then sobered. “You’re right. But you don’t understand, Em. A company is like a puppy. It needs constant attention or it will wither and die.”

“That’s why you hire good people. To give you a break once in a while.”

He shook his head. “You sound like Irene.”

Emily raised a shoulder, dropped it again. “If everyone is saying the same thing, maybe they have a point.”

“Or maybe none of them understand the demands on me as the owner. Being at the top is far more difficult than anyone understands.” He let out a long sigh, then ran a hand through his hair. “Just when I think everything is under control and I can step back, something goes wrong. Hell, you wouldn’t believe the number of calls and emails I’ve got just in the couple of days I’ve been here.”

Tension had knotted his shoulders, furrowed his brow. The part of Emily that still cared about Cole filled with concern. She knew that look. Knew it well. She’d seen it hundreds of times. Before he had a team of employees under him, Cole would come home to their cramped apartment, a smokestack ready to blow, and she would be his sounding board. When had Cole stopped coming to her? When had she stopped asking him to share his day? “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.