Melt Your Heart
Chapter 33: Like I Did With You
"Nice of you to join us," Abigail said warmly, but with a twinkle in her eye just for Cassie when her cousin came downstairs, freshly washed and dressed.
Cassie felt calmer now after her shower, the powerful stream of hot water – and okay, the orgasm she'd wrung from her body – had helped wash away the after effects of her dream. And Sam wasn't here yet, so that was definitely a win.
It was just a dream; it didn't mean anything.
Yeah, she could keep telling herself that.
But she knew that wasn't the advice she'd give if the scenario were reversed.
"Put me to work!" she said jovially instead, keen to become absorbed in all of the Thanksgiving preparations if it took her mind off whatever the hell her subconscious was up to.
"Is she alright?" Stephanie asked Abigail quietly as they made short work of laying the dining room table together. The restaurant owner was a lot more precise in how far apart she laid the place settings, but she refused to comment on Abigail's more lackadaisical approach – she could always tweak the positioning of the silverware later.
"Cassie?" Abigail asked, a little cautiously. "Yeah, I think so, why?"
Stephanie shrugged a shoulder, her curled blonde hair sliding over her shoulders. Not that Abigail had stopped what she was doing to look, of course. She was just being polite and attentive while another person spoke to her…except now she couldn't remember what Stephanie had just said. She'd been out of sorts ever since she'd had to wake Cassie from that dream, and whatever her cousin had needed to do in the shower afterwards to purge said dream from her system.
It was probably for the best that she wasn't in charge of anything too major today. Setting the table had seemed the safe option. Or, at least it had until Stephanie had offered her assistance.
"She seems a little…out of it recently…I don't know how to explain it."
Stephanie had a feeling, Abigail thought, how very Merriwick of her.
"Holidays are hard for her," she replied simply, not wanting to betray a confidence, which was new for her.
"Oh, yeah. I can see that," Stephanie nodded, recalling how strained the first holiday season, and her first birthday, after her divorce had been. And the divorce had been amicable; she couldn't imagine coping with a bereavement as well. "Holidays can be a lonely time."
Abigail looked at her in surprise. "But you're always busy, and your mom usually comes to stay…"
"Doesn't mean I'm not lonely though," Stephanie smiled a little sadly, but then seemed to shake off her mood. "Anyway, this is about Cassie not me."
"Not so fast, Ms. Borden," Abigail continued. "You're spending Christmas with us this year, and I won't hear any arguments. I'll even book a room for you so you can't weasel out of it."
"Oh, okay," Stephanie replied, feeling a little like she'd been run over by a train. "That would be great, thank you."
"But let's try to get through this holiday first, shall we?" Abigail suggested.
Stephanie was relieved; this sounded much more like the Abigail Pershing she knew.
Cassie was taking the turkey out of the oven to baste it for the final time when Sam slipped in through the kitchen door. She was tempted to touch the hot tray just to make sure that this was reality this time and not a day-long elaborate dream, but she didn't need a burn to add to her calluses.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" he smiled, proffering a bottle of red wine and a quart of vanilla ice cream.
"Hey," Cassie replied, focusing on basting the meat and feeling grateful that if her face was flushed, she could easily blame it on the heat of the oven. "Where's Joanne?"
"She's with Abigail, Stephanie and the twins watching the parade on TV," Sam explained.
"And you didn't want to?" she queried, putting the lid back on the roasting pan.
"No, I…" he faltered. "No, I wanted to apologise to you about last night."
"Last night?" Cassie asked, wondering when she had become such a terrible conversationalist.
"I should have told you I was bringing my sister; introduced you to her earlier rather than leaving it to the last minute," he paused, and sighed. "I didn't want it to look like I'd brought along a date and was parading her in front of you."
Cassie didn't trust herself to heft the heavy roasting tin back into the over, so she kicked the door shut with her foot and turned to him.
"I appreciate that, but you did nothing wrong. It's okay for you to date other people; I don't expect you to be a monk forever."
Sam couldn't help but laugh at that, even if her words rocked some of his self-assuredness. He thought he could be fairly certain that she still had feelings for him – there had certainly been a flash of jealousy in her dark eyes before she'd understood that Joanne was his sister. He didn't want her to be okay with him seeing someone else, the same way that it would break him to see her on a date with another man.
"But," she said, turning away on the pretence of getting the bird back in the oven, but really so he wouldn't read too much in her eyes. "I was glad you'd brought your sister and not a date."
Sam grinned triumphantly, but had schooled his features back into a more or less neutral expression by the time Cassie had placed the turkey back in the oven and re-set the timer.
"I meant to say," he said, handing the bottle of wine and tub of ice cream to Cassie. "I had a dream about you last night."
"Oh, really?" she asked, the flush staining her cheeks nothing to do with the oven this time. It was a miracle that the wine and ice cream were still in her hands and not making a macabre mess on the kitchen tiles. "I had a dream about you, too."
Did that mean something?
And her traitorous mind couldn't help but wonder what he'd done in the shower to recover afterwards, too.
"Let me take you home," Sam said as the afternoon wore on, an empty plate that now only contained a few crumbs of Martha's sinfully good pumpkin pie clutched in his hand. He had seen Joanne start to flag as the day progressed, and he couldn't stop himself from stepping into "Doctor Radford" mode.
"I'm fine, Sam," she told him, but it sounded petulant and not very convincing to her own ears. She didn't want to break up the party just yet; in her experience, it was inevitable if they made a move to leave that other guests would start to follow.
He gave her his honed, patented doctor's stare (with an added pinch of 'overprotective brother') but, to her credit, Joanne didn't look away.
"Okay, but the moment you're ready to go, you tell me."
"Is everything alright?" Cassie asked, having caught the end of their conversation while deftly collecting plates and stopping Catherine from reaching for yet another foiled wrapped candy provided courtesy of Abigail's flower shop. The last thing she needed was a pile of vomit to clean up; she learned from bitter experience that once one twin started, the other inevitably joined in.
"Fine, thank you," Joanne answered, too quickly for Cassie's liking and, on instinct, she looked at Sam. She saw the concern there, mixed with a dash of long-sufferance. For a moment, nothing existed between but mutual concern for Joanne.
"There's a sitting room on the first floor if you'd prefer to rest," Cassie suggested gently.
"That's very kind…"
"And Joanne would love to take you up on that offer," Sam chipped in. "Wouldn't you?"
It was Joanne's turn to roll her eyes, but she had to admit that Cassie had offered a good compromise. She could relax and catch her breath, but she wouldn't have to break up the gathering to do so. She knew that Sam wouldn't let her go back to his place alone, and she didn't want to stop him spending time with Cassie. Joanne felt a little brighter from that thought alone; her brother hadn't underplayed how wonderful the woman was and she was growing to like her more and more.
She could almost forgive her for breaking her brother's heart.
But, because she could play dirty too, she said:
"Did Sam tell you about our childhood tradition the weekend after Thanksgiving?"
"No, he didn't," Cassie replied, helping Joanne up from the couch in such a way that the other woman barely noticed she was being assisted. Truthfully, there had been so little time to talk about their childhoods, their dreams, their wants and needs, before it had all ended. On some elemental level it had felt like they'd always known each other, but really there was still so much to discover, though it really wasn't any of her business anymore.
"Jo, Cassie doesn't need to hear this," Sam protested weakly.
"I don't mind," Cassie interjected as neutrally as possible. She really didn't want to get into a battle of wills between brother and sister. "But maybe you can tell me later?"
She felt rather than heard Sam's exhale of relief, and Joanne seemed happy with this compromise. The whole exchange was giving Cassie a flash of what it would be like to still be mediating disputes between her twins when they were well on their way to middle age, though.
"It's lovely in here," Joanne commented as Cassie showed her into the upstairs sitting room. Abigail hadn't used it before Cassie moved in, and she'd offered it to her cousin who was slowly filling the shelves and the mantelpiece with trinkets and treasures from her travels.
"Thank you," Cassie replied, pleased to see that both Radfords were now much calmer. "Take a look at anything you like."
Her previous fatigue forgotten, Joanne's eyes lit up.
"You could open a museum – or a shop – with all the wonders you have in here!"
"Well, actually…" Sam began, and was surprised when Cassie cut him off.
"These things are too precious to me for me to sell, but you're right that people should be able to see and appreciate them."
"Well, I'm doing both right now." She grinned, then waved them both off. "Go back to the party, I'll be fine."
They shared a look, and Sam raised a shoulder in weary acceptance.
"Call me. If you need anything," he told her.
But Joanne was too absorbed in looking through the stacks of postcards Cassie had yet to frame to pay much attention to her brother. Cassie and Sam left her to it, stepping into the quiet, dimly lit hallway.
Being alone with him again made her dream come back to her again, and she clenched her thighs together at the memory. He looked so good in the cosy, half-lit glow, and she noticed that underneath the sweater he'd been wearing earlier, he was wearing the purple and navy plaid shirt he'd worn the night of their date.
Yeah, that date.
"I'm sorry about her," Sam said, breaking a moment he hadn't even been aware existed. For the first time since Cassie had arrived in Middleton, he found that he was thinking about a woman other than her – even while she stood before him looking pretty and bewitching in her flowery Thanksgiving dress.
His tone was one that Cassie had never heard from him before, not even at the beginning of their acquaintance when neither of them had been able to speak to the other without rubbing them the wrong way.
"Don't apologise, Sam," she replied, her own voice a little cool, especially when contrasted with the heat that had just been flaring in her.
"I love her, I really do, but…" he trailed off, trying to release the tension in his hands which had clenched into fists at his side. "She's just…"
"Is she sick?" Cassie asked, gently now.
"How…?" He frowned at her. "How could you know that?"
Cassie opened her mouth, ready to reel off the signs and behaviours of both Radfords which had led her to reach her conclusion.
"Wait, no, don't tell me." It came out harsher than he intended, but damn it, it wasn't fair of her to stand there, being so understanding and patient, concern shining in the chocolate brown pools of her eyes when she wasn't his.
"Yeah, she's been sick for a while. But will she listen to me?"
It was rhetorical, so she said nothing, just watched while he paced the hallway – the hallway that led to her bedroom. He was too wrought to even consider that this was very close to where Cassie slept.
"She's too damn stubborn, and refuses to slow down. She's determined to keep travelling, but it's too much." He finished his rant with his back to Cassie, but she didn't need to look in his eyes to see the anguish there.
"You love her," she stated simply, softly.
"Of course I do," he replied instantly. "If I didn't, I'd just let her do whatever she wanted and damn the consequences!"
"She knows you love her too, too," Cassie replied as if he hadn't spoken. "But it's her own life and you have to let her make her own choices, her own mistakes."
Like I did with you. He was so riled up that he nearly said it, gritting his teeth to keep the words from escaping. But it was the truth too, wasn't it? Maybe Joanne and Cassie weren't that different after all, which was a realisation that made his head spin. At least neither of them were anything like Linda, so he should be grateful for small mercies.
"We should go back to the party," he suggested instead, because he really didn't want to fight with her.
"We can talk about it, if you want. I'm still here for you, Sam, even if we're not together."
He looked at her – really looked at her – and she swallowed hard at the intensity in his gaze.
"Let's go back to the party."