Recipe for Love (Jupiter Tides #1)

by Anne Malcom

“It’s too late,” I exhaled a heavy breath. “For amends. For any kind of relationship between us.” I turned to regard the apartment, the windows illuminating all of the people inside. The furniture, the art, all expensive, all impressive… to certain kinds of people, at least. Rowan was there, cutting a dark shape amongst all of the country club assholes. He was standing close to the sliding doors leading out here. His eyes were on me and my mother, gaze hard and posture rigid. He was ready, poised to run out here, protect me from anything he could. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t physically capable of such things. “You did it.” I turned back to my mother. “You got the life you always wanted. All you needed to do was sacrifice your son. Steal away our childhood. Now, you’ve got the money, the things, the husband. But you don’t have children. One is gone from this world, and I may as well be dead to you because you’re dead to me.” I didn’t wait for my mother to say something, to try to get the last word—as she always did. I dropped my glass, letting it shatter on the ground, and walked out, the shards crunching underneath my feet.

“Why are you here?” I asked him. Rowan stared at me, still breathing heavily. I wondered why he stopped. If he would’ve stopped if I wasn’t here. Maybe he would’ve killed Ronnie. “Why am I here?” he repeated, his tone low and dangerous. I nodded, the world spinning more as a result. “Why are you always here?” I was shouting now. I didn’t quite know why, but I knew that I’d been holding in a scream for so long, since my mother walked in the door of the bakery. I was physically unable to hold it in any longer. “Why are you coming here, saving the fucking day?” I shrieked, pointing to the bar while pacing the parking lot. “You’re watching me, saving me, getting blood on your hands for me.” I sliced a hand toward his fists. “It’s like you’re waiting for me to break so you can put all the pieces back together.” I spun around, holding my arms out, unsteady on my feet. “Well, here I am!” I bellowed. “But this isn’t me breaking. The pieces aren’t neatly scattered on the concrete for you to scoop up in those muscular arms of yours.” I glared at the arms in question. “No, those pieces got obliterated, turned to fucking ash the second my brother’s soul left this world. There’s no saving me here, buddy. There’s not gonna be endless assholes for you to beat up. And I can’t handle it. I can’t have you sitting there, being perfect and handsome and just being there. I can’t do it.” I deflated at the end of my little tirade, suddenly tired. Suddenly so fucking exhausted I had no idea how I...

“I’ve killed people,” Rowan stated flatly. That jerked me out of my rant. His face was expressionless. His eyes weren’t twinkling. They weren’t dark and raging. His features weren’t soft or hard. He was just… blank. Like he’d left behind the man I knew in order to convey this information. “When I was deployed,” he continued in that horribly blank, vacant voice. “I saw shit. Bloated corpses that had baked out in the sun. I saw people get their limbs blown off. My friends. Watched a woman carry her dead child along the street. And I killed someone’s child. Someone’s brother. Someone’s father.” Rowan was looking at me, but he wasn’t. He was looking above my head. Like he couldn’t look me in the eyes when he told me this. Like he was afraid of what he might see on my face. “Fucked me up for a long time. Fucked me up for life,” he continued, still looking above my head. “I’ve dealt with it as much as a human being can deal with that shit. But it changed me for life, Nora. I’ll never be whole. Never be right. Not completely. Which is why I stayed away from you for so fuckin’ long. Not because of the ring on your finger. Knew that you didn’t belong to that fuck, that you belonged to me before you even knew it.” Despite the horrific subject matter, my heart leaped at that little gem of information. That Rowan had considered me his before I thought he knew I existed. “I stayed away ’cause I thought I’d ruin you,” he peered down at his scarlet knuckles. “Thought that my filth would ...

Home. My house had always just been a place for me. I’d created a pretty one, to be sure. But home had always been Ansel. That’s why I was at the bar in the first place. Because I was drifting, anchorless. Homeless. But staring at Rowan, I realized that I had a home. I was staring at him.

Yes, it was hard to hold on to the one black spot in the day. Hard, but not impossible.

“What happened to Kip?” I asked Rowan cautiously. He sighed. “Figured you caught that.” “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay,” I said quickly. “No, cupcake, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just…” He ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck, it’s not somethin’ I’ve spoken about since it happened. Kip does everything in his power not to think about it. We were best friends growing up,” he began, readjusting his position to fully face me. “Inseparable. Both of us knew we wanted to join the Navy. Be a SEAL. He waited till I turned eighteen so we could go together. Figured we’d probably get split up, especially since BUD/S has such a low success rate.” He grinned without humor. “But both of us are stubborn bastards and made it through. Before we deployed, Kip came home, married his high school sweetheart. Girl he loved with all his heart. Who somehow understood why he needed to go fight a war half a world away. His family had some fucked up shit goin’ on, he had stuff to prove to them and himself. She was steadfast over the years, with us gone more than we were home.” He shook his head. “She was a good woman. A great woman. Gave him a beautiful daughter, raised her well.” My heart thundered, knowing this story wouldn’t have a happy ending since I hadn’t heard Kip talk about a wife or a daughter. Not once. “I tried to convince Kip to get out when his daughter was born,” Rowan said, his volume lower. “He didn’t need to be risking his life when he had everything to li...

“I love you,” I said. Rowan blinked at me in surprise, which made sense. It was an unusual time for me to finally say it. But I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I ran my hand down the stubble on his cheek. “I love the man you are,” I whispered. “Every single part of you. I love what you do for your friends. Your family. I love what you do for me. How you make me feel. I love you.”

“Does he know about that?” She tipped her head downward to my stomach. I gasped, looking at her in shock. “How did you know?” I asked, cupping my stomach. “Girl, you’ve not touched that.” Her eyes flickered to my glass. “And that’s a $300 bottle of French champagne. One of your favorites. Which I’ll not let go to waste.” She picked up the glass. “Your tits are even bigger than usual,” she added, gesturing to my chest with the glass. “And you’ve got the whole pregnancy glow going on. You haven’t been eating anything in the mornings, just nursing a cup of fucking tea like you’re an eighty-year-old English woman. I’m not blind.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised your man doesn’t know already. Since his powerful, masculine dominant gaze is always zeroed in on you whenever you’re in the vicinity, and he notices every time you fucking blush.”

“Cupcake, what’s on your mind?” Rowan asked as he put the truck in park. I could see Maggie’s face in the window beside the front door. She was waiting for us, like she always did. “You’ve been quiet the whole day,” he murmured, turning to me. “I’m pregnant,” I blurted, unable to keep it in anymore. Rowan blinked once before he grinned. Ear to ear. “You’re carrying my baby.” I nodded. “You’re carrying my baby.” Again, I nodded. Rowan didn’t say anything else. He got out of the car. I deflated a little. Rowan was a man of few words with a lot of people. And he was still moody and borderline grumpy. He often didn’t react in ways I expected. But I’d expected a little more fanfare. Before I could get out of the car, the door opened, and he pulled me out, carrying me in his arms. “Rowan!” I squealed. “Need to carry you over the threshold,” he grunted. I smiled. “That’s for brides.” “Gotta do that too. Get married.” I looked up at him. “Is that a proposal?” He walked us in the door, Maggie running around his legs in greeting. “Got a ring,” he said in answer. “Was gonna do a big thing at dinner at Carlisle’s tomorrow.” I laughed. We had both made big plans that went to shit, it seemed. He shifted his weight in order to reach into his pocket and retrieve a ring. “You’ve been walking around with that in your pocket? Without a box?” I gasped, horrified as he slipped it on my finger. My eyes were wide as I took in the emerald cut diamond. It was vintage, I could tell right away from ...