...the update had several different directions *rubs temples*...settled on this one!

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Chapter 12

"Something smells good in here!"

She turns from the ground turkey she had been browning on the stove, finding Grace, quickly followed by Nick, dropping their bags at the kitchen island. "Enchiladas, by requests."

Nick smiles, shoving up his sleeves. "How can I help?"

Turning off the burner, she grabs an extra apron from a drawer, tossing it to him. "You're just in time to join the assembly line."

Grace helps herself to an apron of her own, both teens washing their hands.

Her intuition is still a little off, but she manages to time everything so that when they arrive home from school, all the ingredients are prepped for them to assemble. "I've got all of the necessary ingredients set up here," she gestures to the counter where the tortillas, sauce, cheese, vegetables and turkey have been lined up. "Start with the tortilla, and add a bit of each as you go." She demonstrates constructing the enchilada. "When you're done, roll it and place it in this dish."

Nick rubs his hands together. "Seems simple enough."

"Says the guy that burns grilled cheese," Grace jokes.

There's a bowl of flour on the counter left from when she made the tortillas, and Nick grabs a pinch, flicking it at Grace.

"Hey!" She grabs a pinch of her own, flicking it back at him.

He's grinning from ear to ear. "Ok, truce! Let's make these cause I'm starving!"

...

He drops his keys in the dish on the end table, loosing his tie. The tension has settled between his shoulder blades and he's yet to dislodge the guilt from his throat at the worry he had caused Eve. She had been incredibly understanding and he had felt even worse for not telling her about his potential plans for his practice.

The house is empty and he's given up on texting Nick; he hasn't responded all day, despite Cassie returning his phone. Turning the corner into the kitchen, he finds a single sticky note on the counter.

At Grey House. Cassie's making that Mexican dish.

He smiles to himself, and his phone rings from his pocket. Fishing it out, he catches Linda's name before answering. "Yeah?"

"Hello to you too," she replies tightly. "I don't want to argue," she sighs over the phone. "I've had the most rotten day."

Her voice is defeated and he has just enough empathy to soften a little. "Are you ok?"

"I got a flat on my way back from Blairsville! I had to wait 2 hours for a toe truck and now the mechanic is saying that I need an alignment!"

"But are you ok?" He questions again. She sighs over the phone. "I'm fine."

He know's that she's been thrown off kilter despite the facade she's putting on. "Where are you? I'll come get you."

"No, you don't have to do that-"

"-Linda-"

"-the mechanic said it wouldn't be that much longer. There's no sense of us both being stuck here. Besides, someone needs to be home to ensure Nick's home."

He doesn't like the way she says 'home', the way she's inserted herself in everything he's worked so hard to build. Not just for himself, but for Nick. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Save me a plate of whatever you're having?"

He glances down at Nick's sticky note. "Sure. Text me when you're on your way."

It's a beat before she answers. "Ok."

She hangs up before he can say anything else. Drumming his fingers on the counter, he decides to go change before heading over to Grey House.

...

"You're making a mess!"

"They're enchiladas, Grace," Nick reasons. "They're not supposed to be neat!" "Look, you're getting the sauce in the cheese and the cheese in the vegetables!"

She had busied herself with preparing the salad, letting them figure out a rhythm on their own. They had started out strong, Nick sticking to the sequence with precision, but it had been Grace's perfectionism that had slowed him down, causing him to work out of order around her. Their bickering had soon followed and all she could do was smile to herself.

She had missed this. "Can I help?"

Glancing up from the salad, Sam is standing in the threshold of the kitchen and she frowns. She hadn't sensed his presence. He's got on a pair of jeans and a simple grew crew neck and she feels a strong urge to just curl into him.

Grace shakes her head, stepping away from the enchilada's. "Why don't I do the salad?" She offers.

She makes room for her at the island, wiping her hands. "Sure. Nick, do you want me to help?"

"I've got it, Cassie...Look, Dad!" He holds out the enchilada he has finished making for him to see.

"Looks great, pal."

"They're gonna taste even greater," he comments. "Grace and I've got this; you two go chill or something."

Grace rolls her eyes, smiling. "We've got this."

He enters the kitchen, sliding an arm around her waist. She leans into him easily, meeting his gaze. "Help me set the table?"

His hand slides up her back settling at her nape. "Of course."

She gathers the cutlery and the glassware while he moves about her kitchen to gather the plates and table settings. She's not sure when he became so comfortable at Grey House, let alone her kitchen, but she smiles to herself nonetheless. He follows her to the dining room and they work in tandem to set the table.

"I haven't seen him smile like that in days," Sam comments as he lays the place settings around the table.

"Enchilada's can do that," she jokes softly.

He's shaking his head. "You can do that. Just you, Cassie."

She comes to stand beside him, placing the cutlery and glass down around the place setting and plate he's laid out. "I think you're giving me too much credit."

"I think you're not giving yourself enough," he counters. "You've always been such a positive, supportive person in Nick's life; I'm grateful for you, Cassie."

She meets his gaze. "You've done the same for Grace-"

"-We're not talking about me," he interjects gently. "Please, don't downplay what you mean to us, Cassie."

Her throat tightens a little with emotion, and she side steps him to move on to the next place setting. The tone in his voice has changed, mirroring their conversation that night at the Historical Middleton event. While she had danced in his arms, the conversation took a surprising turn and she had been grateful for the interruption from one of his former colleagues.

What she wouldn't give for an interruption now.

There's still so much for them to figure out individually, and together, and there's a niggling worry that despite their best efforts, it will ultimately be too much.

"Can we talk about something else?"

His brow furrows and she can see the wheels turning in his head as he attempts to decipher what's happening right now.

"Something smells delicious in here!" George announces from the front door. She continues setting the table while George's conversation with Grace and Nick filters into the dining room.

Sam works silently across from her.

"Is there room for one more?" George asks, standing in the doorway. She manages a smile. "Always."
...

George is full tilt into one of his fishing stories, and he easily has everyone around the table in stitches. Sam hasn't seen Nick laugh so much since they all had been living at his house, and the muscles in his own face are sore from his own grin and laughter.

Despite the sudden change in her when they had been setting the table, Cassie sits comfortably beside him now, her hand resting on his thigh. He's rested his arm across the back of her chair, letting his thumb sweep gently along the nape of her neck.

Their empty plates and dishes sit forgotten on the table as they're all more than happy to sit and listen to George.

"So here I was, in the middle of Middleton lake without a hope or a promise, my boat slowly sinking and the biggest catch of my life trying to pull me over!" George regales animatedly.

"What did you do?" Nick questions eagerly.

"What any good fisherman would do, kid," George pauses for dramatic effect. "I jumped in!"

Everyone laughs, and he can't help but watch her profile as the laughter reaches her eyes, causing them to sparkle just a little.

"Did you catch the fish, Grandpa?" Graces asks. "I think the fish caught me, kid," he chuckles.

She glances over at him, mid laugh, and it's so startling clear to him in that moment that this is it. What he wants for the rest of his life.

"I love you," he whispers.

Her gaze softens, and she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets his fingers sift through her hair, kissing her just as gently back.

"What's for desert?" Nick questions.

Pulling back, she addresses Nick. "There's a cake in the fridge."

"Any chance its yellow cake with chocolate frosting?" Nick jokes, rising from his seat.

She smiles. "There's a good chance."
...

George and the kids had volunteered to clean up after dinner and she had taken the opportunity to make them both a cup of tea. Opting for a calming camomile, Cassie met Sam out on the back deck on the swing, which it seemed, was becoming their spot.

Settling in beside him, she offers him the second mug which he takes almost willingly these days.

"It's growing on me," he answer with a smirk.

She tucks her legs beneath her, leaning into him, and he rests his arm over her knees as he gently swings them back and forth. "All good things take time."

"Is that what we need?" He questions. "More time?"

"What are we rushing towards?"

His feet still, halting the swing and she can feel his gaze on her as she hides behind the rim of her mug.

"Are we not on the same page here?" He asks unsurely.

She reaches for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "I want to be."

"But?" He prompts.

"...after Jake died, I guess I never really saw myself...married again."

His face changes as he processes her confession. "How come you never told me?" "It's not exactly something that comes up in a casual conversation," she reasons.

He shakes his head. "Maybe it should have."

"...Have you been thinking that far into the future?" She asks unsurely. Everything that happened with Weld occurred so early into their relationship that envisioning a future with him hadn't been something she was thinking about.

Sam untwines his hand with hers, gripping the mug between his hands. "Does it really matter now if I had?"

Setting her mug on the ground, she turns, placing her hands on his knees. "Of course it does."

"You've already decided that marriage isn't a possibility for us-"

"-I never said that-"

"-didn't you?"

His eyes connect with hers searching for confirmation. "I assumed that with how poorly your marriage to Linda ended, that it wasn't something you wanted either."

He stiffens at this and she immediately regrets saying anything.

"You assumed wrong," he answers tightly, setting his own mug on the ground and rising to his feet.

His arms fold across his chest.

This wasn't the conversation she thought they'd be having this evening, given the key to the safety deposit box is still sitting in her pocket book and he's thinking about closing his practice and Linda is one argument away from reopening their custody agreement.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked you, Sam."

He nods wordlessly, rubbing his forehead. "...forget I even said anything. Let's not ruin the perfect, uncomplicated night we were having."

Unfurling from the swing, she crosses the patio towards him. "I know that I love you, Sam, and if marriage is something you're thinking about, I want to think about it too."

He sighs, avoiding her gaze. "There's a big difference between thinking and feeling, Cassie."

Her chest tightens at the hurt in his voice. "I guess there is," she agrees softly.

His phone conveniently buzzes from his pocket and he pulls it out, glancing at the text. "That's Linda...I should probably head out."

He gathers their mugs on the ground, heading for inside. "What do we do now?" She questions.

His back is to her and glances down at the mugs in his hands before meeting her gaze. "I don't know."

Tbc