He shoved the last of the Santa into his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his hands. “These are delicious.”
“I would have, but mom said she wanted…” her voice trailed off as her brows narrowed. She tapped an index finger to her lips.
What had Carole said that gave Chaney pause?
He waited for her to continue.
She gave her lips one last tap, and then planted her elbows on the counter. “She wanted some bonding time with her granddaughter.”
“As if she doesn’t get enough bonding time living in the same house?”
“Yeah. Strange.” Chaney’s brows lifted. “But then, our situation is a little unusual.”
The oven timer blared. He grabbed a couple hot pads and pulled the pie out. Steam poured out of the oven, and he breathed in the combined smell of dough, pepperoni and melted cheese that filled the kitchen.
“Yum. Smells delicious,” Chaney said, pivoting to open a cabinet.
“Plates and cups are in the one next to the sink.” He flicked his head in the general direction. Not that she could see him.
She closed the cabinet and swiveled to see where he’d indicated. “Gotcha.” She moved over to the right one and pulled down the plates and cups. When she set them on the counter, her brows arched. “That looks like a real pizza.”
“And you’re surprised?”
“A little.”
So she’d mistaken him for a frozen pizza kind of guy? He liked that he’d surprised her. “Yeah, well, I would have starved if I had to live on frozen pizza.” He scowled, sprinkling parmesan over the top. He dug the pizza cutter out of the drawer and sliced the pie into wedges.
She filled the glasses with iced tea while he loaded the plates.
“Couch or bar?” he asked.
Her gaze flitted to the family room. “It isn’t often I get to eat on the couch anymore. Not with a little one around.”
“A treat, eh?” He scooped up some napkins along with the plates and led her to the couch. “Glad to oblige.”
They sat on opposite ends.
Chaney crossed her legs under her rump, facing him. She took a bite, moaned. “Oh wow.”
“Like it?” Not that pizza making was a big deal, but—OK, it was a big deal. He didn’t have much to offer her anymore. Not like before, when their dreams of winning a medal hovered in front of them like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
“I love it. You can invite me over for pizza anytime.”
“You never used to eat it.” He studied her expression.
She nodded, thoughtful, then said, “A lot has changed since then.”
“Don’t I know. From Olympic hopeful to auto mechanic.” The pizza dough felt like cardboard in his mouth.
“Why do you say it like that?” Her face tilted, twin vertical lines creasing her forehead.
He sighed. “Chaney, I’m sorry for stealing your dreams, for altering the course of your life, all for—”
She set her empty plate down and pressed a hand to his arm. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, husky.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, knowing in his gut that they were at a crossroads.
“Stop it right there.” Dark lashes fluttered over creamy cheeks, and then back up, revealing gorgeous, expressive eyes. “Your leaving crushed me, and I won’t deny that it took years to get past my disappointment. But, Conner, I wouldn’t change a thing about the path I’m on. I’m raising my adorable niece. I’m helping kids reach their potential and putting them in a position to achieve their dreams. Without the constant pressure of competing and medals dangling on the horizon, I’m free to be me, exactly who God intended for me to be, and exactly where He wants me to be. Can’t you say the same?” Her question pinned him to the sofa.
A glob of emotion crawled down his throat. “I-I’m not sure.”
“Really? What would you do different?”
“Skate. Write more music.” Marry her. Raise more Annabelles. No question. Those were the things he should have said, but he didn’t.
“You’re making progress, then.”
“Yeah.” His head
“I would have, but mom said she wanted…” her voice trailed off as her brows narrowed. She tapped an index finger to her lips.
What had Carole said that gave Chaney pause?
He waited for her to continue.
She gave her lips one last tap, and then planted her elbows on the counter. “She wanted some bonding time with her granddaughter.”
“As if she doesn’t get enough bonding time living in the same house?”
“Yeah. Strange.” Chaney’s brows lifted. “But then, our situation is a little unusual.”
The oven timer blared. He grabbed a couple hot pads and pulled the pie out. Steam poured out of the oven, and he breathed in the combined smell of dough, pepperoni and melted cheese that filled the kitchen.
“Yum. Smells delicious,” Chaney said, pivoting to open a cabinet.
“Plates and cups are in the one next to the sink.” He flicked his head in the general direction. Not that she could see him.
She closed the cabinet and swiveled to see where he’d indicated. “Gotcha.” She moved over to the right one and pulled down the plates and cups. When she set them on the counter, her brows arched. “That looks like a real pizza.”
“And you’re surprised?”
“A little.”
So she’d mistaken him for a frozen pizza kind of guy? He liked that he’d surprised her. “Yeah, well, I would have starved if I had to live on frozen pizza.” He scowled, sprinkling parmesan over the top. He dug the pizza cutter out of the drawer and sliced the pie into wedges.
She filled the glasses with iced tea while he loaded the plates.
“Couch or bar?” he asked.
Her gaze flitted to the family room. “It isn’t often I get to eat on the couch anymore. Not with a little one around.”
“A treat, eh?” He scooped up some napkins along with the plates and led her to the couch. “Glad to oblige.”
They sat on opposite ends.
Chaney crossed her legs under her rump, facing him. She took a bite, moaned. “Oh wow.”
“Like it?” Not that pizza making was a big deal, but—OK, it was a big deal. He didn’t have much to offer her anymore. Not like before, when their dreams of winning a medal hovered in front of them like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
“I love it. You can invite me over for pizza anytime.”
“You never used to eat it.” He studied her expression.
She nodded, thoughtful, then said, “A lot has changed since then.”
“Don’t I know. From Olympic hopeful to auto mechanic.” The pizza dough felt like cardboard in his mouth.
“Why do you say it like that?” Her face tilted, twin vertical lines creasing her forehead.
He sighed. “Chaney, I’m sorry for stealing your dreams, for altering the course of your life, all for—”
She set her empty plate down and pressed a hand to his arm. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, husky.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, knowing in his gut that they were at a crossroads.
“Stop it right there.” Dark lashes fluttered over creamy cheeks, and then back up, revealing gorgeous, expressive eyes. “Your leaving crushed me, and I won’t deny that it took years to get past my disappointment. But, Conner, I wouldn’t change a thing about the path I’m on. I’m raising my adorable niece. I’m helping kids reach their potential and putting them in a position to achieve their dreams. Without the constant pressure of competing and medals dangling on the horizon, I’m free to be me, exactly who God intended for me to be, and exactly where He wants me to be. Can’t you say the same?” Her question pinned him to the sofa.
A glob of emotion crawled down his throat. “I-I’m not sure.”
“Really? What would you do different?”
“Skate. Write more music.” Marry her. Raise more Annabelles. No question. Those were the things he should have said, but he didn’t.
“You’re making progress, then.”
“Yeah.” His head
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