Maddie jumped up, the fireman hat falling over her eyes. “If you get some, I’ll share with you.”
Lee gave Maddie a sweet smile. And I took her in. Up close, behind those glasses, her skin was porcelain—like a doll. Which maybe was why Maddie couldn’t take her eyes off of her either.
Lee looked back up at me. “She’s adorable,” she said.
“I can’t take any credit. She’s my fiancé’s daughter.”
Lee nodded. “A good thing to come with the deal,” she said.
Maddie smiled at Lee, her new fan. She was used to being told how cute she was and milking it after. She was, after all, the daughter of a movie star.
Maddie picked up Lee’s package of seeds. “What are these?” Maddie said.
“Those are chia seeds,” Lee said.
Maddie looked at them, confused, putting them down. “Yuck,” Maddie said.
She laughed. “Yes, that seems to be the consensus. She sounds like my fiancé.”
I must have cringed, hearing those words. Lee tilted her head, as if noting it, considering something.
“Is that why you look so familiar? Did I meet you through him? He’s a local winemaker. Jacob McCarthy?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t an answer either.
She adjusted her glasses, looking confused. “Maybe you look like someone else I know,” she said. “I’m Lee. For the next time I confuse you with someone that you’re not.”
I laughed, feeling guilty about withholding from her. I pointed at the chia seeds. “I’ve heard a lot about those recently,” I said, wanting to tell her something true.
“You need to try them, then . . .”
She licked her spoon to clean it—and then dipped it into the oatmeal, making me a seedy bite. I didn’t want to take it, though there didn’t seem to be much choice. It was such a familiar gesture—as gross as it was—so openhearted.
I took the spoon, swallowing it all at once—her oatmeal and her seeds and her licked spoon—the slimy, gooey mix.
“What do you think of the chia seeds? Friend or foe?”
Maddie started tugging on my shirt, done being hospitable. Done with any more adult conversation. “Come on!”
That saved me from answering. I smiled and handed her back her spoon.
And Lee waved good-bye as Maddie took my hand and ran out of there.
Perfect Red
When we got back to the house, there was a large SUV parked out front. It seemed odd, but not for long—as soon as we walked into the house and Maddie ran upstairs, back to her movie, I went into the kitchen. And found Ben standing by the coffee machine, holding a mug and laughing.
With Michelle.
Michelle Carter. In my kitchen.
She was gorgeous, and effortlessly stunning, wearing a long silk dress and cowboy boots, her red hair pulled up into a loose bun. She held a mug herself. My mug. Like it belonged to her, like she belonged standing in my family’s kitchen, leaning comfortably against the countertop, leaning comfortably, hips open, into Ben.
Ben looked up, noticing I was there. “Hey,” he said.
Then he motioned toward Michelle.
“Michelle came to pick up Maddie a little early,” he said.
My heart was beating so hard, I actually thought they could hear it. I forced a friendly smile. “Is that right?”
“I apologize for just arriving!” she said. “My phone is useless in wine country.”
Ben smiled at me, his eyes apologizing. “They have to get back to London, but she wanted to come by the house so you two could meet.”
“Or meet again,” Michelle said.
She spoke in this powder-soft voice, which forced you to lean forward just to hear her. I drilled her with a look, disliking her powder-soft voice, disliking that she was trying to add levity to the awkwardness of that meeting on the street. At another moment that would have been what was called for, but after my conversation with her daughter, it was the last thing that was called for.
Michelle gave me a smile, which lit up her face, making her seem younger and older than she was, almost like a different species. As pretty as she was when she wasn’t smiling, when she did—smile at you—it was trancelike. Making it hard to avoid being mesmerized by her. Michelle knew it. Of course she knew it. Every man in the world told her.
And if I wasn’t intimidated enough by the idea of her, the perfect woman standing territorially close to my fiancé—and staring at me post-pancake, un-showered—certainly sealed the deal.
“Benjamin has told me wonderful things about you.”