Tell Me a Truth (The Story Series Book 5) Read Online Free Page B

brother. “Where did he go?”
    “You gave him seed money to open his own restaurant in Tampa,” I piped up.
    Caleb’s eyes flicked to me. “Why didn’t I hire someone else?”
    “Because we were either going out or doing most of the cooking. Together.”
    Caleb nodded slowly and looked me up and down, his eyes igniting my body. For a beat, the air between us sizzled, and I felt my nipples tighten against the silk of my kimono.
    “Very well, Emma. Then I guess that’s what we’ll do this evening.”
----
    I was not dressed for a dinner at home.
    My red-and-white gingham cotton dress was a 1950s silhouette, tight in the bodice, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a full skirt. I hadn’t worn it in years and was honestly surprised it still fit. I clasped a demure choker of pearls around my neck and swept my hair up in a messy updo, with curly tendrils framing my face.
    I was aiming for a touch of seduction. Maybe not a full, end-up-horizontal-in-bed seduction, because I didn’t think either one of us was quite ready for that yet.
    Although I wouldn’t push him away, if that’s what he wanted.
    I did want to look alluring enough to pique my husband’s interest—or, if possible, his memory. I tried on a pair of nude heels, but that was a little much for making stuffed pasta shells in my own kitchen, even for me. I slipped on pale pink ballet flats instead. I looked in the mirror and turned, sucking in my stomach. Not bad, considering everything. It was the first time I’d worn one of my vintage dresses in ages. Somehow, the retro-style didn’t seem to fit who I was anymore.
    A wife. A mom. A woman with a complicated life. I shrugged at myself in the mirror. I’d deal with my wardrobe later. Or not. Because fashion no longer mattered.
    My step was light as I left the master bedroom and walked into the living room.
    Caleb was there—his family had collected Charlotte an hour earlier, saying they wanted us to have some “alone time”—sitting on the sofa. He looked simple and perfect, in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a black T-shirt.
    He stood quickly and his mouth dropped open. “Oh! Wow.”
    “You’re saying that a lot today,” I responded playfully. I didn’t want to let on that I was scared enough to throw up. It was as if we were on a first date, only during our first date, I’d been confident we’d end up in bed that evening. Tonight, I wasn’t sure what would unfold.
    He stroked his chin. “Yeah. I am saying that a lot. Everything’s a surprise around here.”
    I smiled, my first hurdle cleared. “Thanks.”
    We stood and stared at each other, the silence between us filled with sexual static. Or so I thought. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, truthfully. I didn’t know what to say, and he probably didn’t either. To him, I was a stranger in his house.
    “I went to the store today and got everything we need for dinner. Why don’t you relax and I’ll cook?”
    Caleb shook his head. “Shouldn’t I at least help?”
    “If you’d like.” I shrugged. “I’ll put you to work.”
    And so, for the next hour, we cooked. Was it my imagination or was he trying to get closer to me while reaching for a cutting board? He grinned and glanced at me as I moved aside, and I smiled back. I felt the old sizzle between us flare.
    I had him chop garlic and an onion while I sautéed spinach and mixed cheese for stuffed shells. He reached for a garlic press to mince it finely. I’d always loved bigger chunks of garlic and lots of it. I scowled.
    “What?” he said. “Do you not like garlic?”
    “I do.” I smiled tightly, trying to ignore the little things he’d forgotten about me. There would be more of these, many more, I knew. I spooned the ricotta-spinach mixture into the shells.
    “How did you know I loved these?” he asked, then paused. “Oh. Right. We were— are married.”
    I smiled and slid the tray of shells into the oven. Each exchange between us made my heart race and cracked