On their third evening at the cabin, Dave had cooked a lovely dinner of pasta with white sauce and double chocolate cake for dessert. "Thank you," Erin splashed a measure of scotch into Dave's glass. "For cooking." She glanced around the spotless kitchen. "And cleaning up."

"Any time," Dave knew she specifically hated making dinner. He could always count on her for a hot breakfast and a pot of coffee; but dinner was her least favorite chore.

Erin stacked their dessert plates and laid them in the sink to add to the dishwasher, before bed. "That chocolate cake is incredible." She put the lid on the decanter, leaving it on the bar and leaned towards him. "Why didn't I know you could bake?" She asked, sliding onto a leather barstool beside him.

"Well." He swallowed a sip of scotch. "You never asked."

"I think your baking skills are something you should have mentioned a while ago."

"I would have," He insisted and put his glass on the butcher block countertop. "If you asked."

She lowered herself off the stool and went into the living room. "What other secrets are you holding back?" Erin stretched out on the sofa, shoving one of many throw pillows under her head. "Come and sit." She crooked one finger towards him. "Tell me all about it."

"What about you?" He put her feet in his lap before she could move them. "Any hidden talents I should know about?"

"Hmm…" she had to think about it. "I placed 2nd in The Chili Cook Off at the kid's school–"

"When?" He cut her off in disbelief.

"Two years ago. And before you ask, I only donated $100. Close your mouth, David. It's rude."

"Where was I?" He demanded, "Why wasn't I involved? If I'd been there you would have placed first-"

"It was before you–" she said quickly. "I didn't leave you out on purpose."

"Before me? How so? How much, 'before me?" He snapped, he was offended, but he didn't know why. "You could have at least mentioned this little event."

"We'd barely gone for coffee the first time–"

"So? Dating is just a formality when you already know each other." Apparently they didn't know each other as well as they thought. Dave didn't like that, it bugged him to think there was a part of their life together when he was in the peripheral.

"I didn't think you'd care this much." At that time, something like a charity event at her children's school was such a small thing. Why would it have mattered to him?

He couldn't resist a chance to tease her, "I've always cared about the best interest of children and their gastrointestinal health."

"Rude." She said, digging her heel into his thigh. "I can make dinner, I just don't like it. My kids haven't starved yet."

"Yet. Being the operative word." He caught her foot before she could kick him. "But we both know it's a good thing I came along when I did. Paul was looking a little skinny."

"David," Erin fixed him with a glare that he knew was reserved for her children. "What did I just say about being rude?"

"Too far. Noted, but I've seen you burn water, Erin. You burned a pot roast so bad that we threw the whole pot away."

"That happened one time!" Erin protested, she moved to get up, but his gentle squeeze of her ankle made her pause and lay back down.

"One time too many." He grouched, taking another sip of scotch. "That was a good pot."

"A quality pot could handle more than a burnt roast–" She stalled, when his thumb dug into the sole of her foot in just the right spot.

"Okay," he conceded. "You've got me there. Use the nonstick cookware next time."

"That'll be awhile." She didn't have to think about dinner, as long as pizza could still be delivered. "You don't have to worry about me messing up the kitchen for a long time."

"That attitude right there is why I still don't believe you even entered a chili contest, much less won."

"I can prove it." She said, before she could stop herself. Why did she always have to have the last word?

"How so? Are you going to show me your red ribbon when we get home? I'd be surprised to find it in a box somewhere."

Erin pressed into the sofa, her eyes drifting closed without her consent. She was satiated, warm and the man she loved was rubbing her feet, without prompting. She was sure that something happened to a woman when she was too relaxed. Too comfortable. It made her stupid, so the words jumped out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'll make it for you."

"Ugh." The next morning, Erin scrolled through her phone trying to find that damn chili 'recipe'. Dave would have a cow, a chicken and two pigs-oh hell he'd have the whole damn farm if he found out she'd stretched the truth about her 'Award-Winning-Chili.' It wasn't so much a recipe, but a ratio. And if the app on her phone was to be believed, the grocery store in Little Creek did not have the right brands of canned chili. She'd stretched the truth like a rubber band, with one end in Virginia and the other in Ohio. It was bound to snap back on her, if she wasn't careful.

Dave was expecting chili for dinner and that's what he would get, she made that decision as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. She found Dave on his back, laying on the already-made bed, with Carlo on his chest.

"What are your plans for the day?" She hoped the sunshine streaming through the curtains, planned to stay because she needed David out of the house.

"Hmm…" He rubbed Carlo's back, the two of them were completely blissed out. Dave's eyes were drifting closed. "I want to take the kids on a hike through the trails behind the house. Why?"

"I thought I'd make chili for dinner tonight," she crawled in bed beside them, ready to take the baby in case Dave fell asleep.

"Oh," He sat up. "Let's go get the stuff."

"I'll go." She said, "You stay home." It was perfect! He'd be home, but he wouldn't be so close that he'd catch on. By the time he finished hiking he'd be too worn out to care about the origins of the chili in his bowl. He'd give her a kiss, say 'thank you' and go to bed.

Dave frowned, but still passed her the baby. "You don't have to go by yourself."

She laughed slightly and said, "I think I can handle a trip to the grocery store." Although when she paused to think about it, she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the store alone. It was strange, before Dave, she always went by herself or had things delivered. Now, she hardly did any of the mundane things required to run a household, on her own and she usually didn't want to.

"I know you can," He was playful when he reached for his shoes. Then it turned serious. "I just don't see why you should have to."

"I just need some space right now." The excuse came too easily. "I promise-" She hurried to reassure him. "It's nothing you did, but we haven't been apart for awhile and–"

"Okay." He held up a hand, stopping her. "I get it. You're right…we've pretty much been joined at the hip since Carlo's birth." True, when their son was a patient in the hospital, Erin and Dave took shifts sitting with him. But even when Dave couldn't be in the room, he was still in the hospital, waiting for his turn. Neither one was ever too far from the other. "It might be good to take a breather. Do you want me to take Carlo?"

"I'll keep him on my chest. You and the kids go on your hike. You should take Mudgie with you too, he'd love it." Dave taking the dog meant she could hide the cans without Mudgie dragging them out of the garbage later.

Now she knew why Dave wanted to go with her, the lights in the store were too bright and Carlo wasn't used to it. He squirmed against her chest, wiggling every time his eyes opened. Pausing in the canned goods aisle, she patted his back and squatted down to grab some beans. "I know…we're almost finished."

God, now she'd lied to Dave twice in less than 24 hours. Erin knew the fussy baby and a squeaky, wobbly wheel on her grocery cart was karma punishing her. As she meandered down the aisle, she thought about how easily Dave was willing to 'give her space.' Did she need space from him? Not really, but she didn't want to lose her independence either. She was still her own person, with a life outside of him.

Even if that life included a fraudulent chili recipe. She added a can of No-Beans, chili into the cart. To play it safe, she'd grabbed two cans from each of the six brands. Along with, two cans of sweet corn, three cans of tomatoes with green chilis and a can of black beans, just because. Canned vegetables needed to be drained and rinsed and a can of something was a measurement. Now, she could call it a recipe and it wouldn't be a total lie.

She sure as hell hoped it tasted good, if not, there would be plenty of leftovers.

40 minutes later, when she was alone in the kitchen Erin was reconsidering this whole thing. It took longer to peel the labels off the cans, rinse the cans and dispose of them, than it would to actually learn to make chili but she was too far into it now. The Frankenstein-chili- concoction was already bubbling on the stove. She slid a spoon into the steaming pot and took an experimental taste. Ready and willing to throw the whole pot out the door and start over.

Surprisingly, the sauce wasn't bad… it had flavor and the spices were complementary. It had the right amount of heat that didn't make her mouth burn, but it wasn't mild either. It needed a little salt…maybe some cheese, but it was good. Some fresh meat would really put it over the edge, from good to something worthy of a blue ribbon, this time.

Rummaging through the refrigerator, Erin considered her options of ground turkey or a package of beef stew meat.

There wasn't a recipe to fall back on but she wasn't used to cooking on instinct. David always knew what to do next while she relied on the tried and true recipes from the internet. Oh well… she stuck a frying pan on the stove and browned the meat. She'd already experimented once today, another wouldn't hurt.

Approximately 90 minutes later, Cassie and Alison were setting the table while Paul and Dave laid out the toppings for the chili. Dave laid the shredded cheese on the counter. "It smells great in here," he said, sliding one hand on Erin's hip. She stirred the pot.

"I mean it, Honey. If it tastes like it smells, then you should be proud." He said, grabbing a spoon.

She turned away to grab a napkin. His hand was out of the pot, the steaming metal spoon mere inches from his mouth.

"David Rossi, you stay out of my pot!" Erin demanded, swatting him.

"Oww! It's hot!" He groaned and licked the spot on his hand where the sauce dripped. "Did you really have to hit me while I was holding the spoon?"

"Well?" She glared at him and slapped a lid on the pot with a clang. "I told you to stay out of it."

"Are we allowed to eat now?" He grouched, washing his hands. "I'm starving."

"Wait for it." Erin reached over and turned the knob on the stove until the fire went out.

"Now?"

"Wait…" She paused, listening closely for the chili to stop bubbling.

"Now?" Dave tried again, swiping his hands on a dish towel. "Come on Erin this is crazy. The kids are hungry."

She lifted the lid from the pot as the last bubble popped. "Now. David, you can eat now."

"Finally!" He groaned, grabbing a bowl. "Better hurry, Kids. Before your mom changes her mind."

Sitting around the table, Dave ladled steaming hot chili into bowls and passed them around the table until Erin and all three children had a bowl. Erin was topping her bowl with avocado and sour cream when Mrs. Rossi let herself in through the back door. There was a place set for her between David and Cassie.

"Ma," Dave beamed, holding up his spoon like a little boy showing off an art project. "This is Erin's award-winning chili." He patted her leg under the table. "You really knocked it out of the park, Tesoro."

"Award-winning?" Paul repeated, spooning sour cream into his bowl. He looked at his mother like she'd lost her mind. "What award?"

"The chili contest at your school." Dave answered, before Erin could say anything.

"Oh yeah…" Allison gave her brother a knowing look and nodded. "It was really good."

"Tell me about your hike," Erin itched to change the subject.

Cassie slid her spoon into her bowl, but held off putting it into her mouth. "It was a long walk. Wasn't that one white?"

"What one?" Erin turned towards her children, incredulous.

"The chili you made for school," Cassie said, "You made white chicken chili with the white beans–"

"With Dad's recipe!" Paul interjected. "I remember because you made me cut the jalapenos–"

"And he rubbed his eyes after," Allison muttered.

"I remember," Erin said, nodding thoughtfully. "Did you have fun hiking with Mudgie, Paul?"

"Great hike." Paul said. Those peppers burned like hell," he mumbled, taking another bite. "This is great though."

"Language, Paul!" Erin snapped, she'd been trying for the last year to get him to stop swearing.

"And!" Allison piped up. "Actually it was two and a half years ago because it was right before you had to go–away. Remember?"

"Okay, Allison. You're right, that was a different chili–" Erin said. "How far out did you hike?"

"About a mile," Dave answered. "We turned around before we got to the waterfall."

"Where did you go after that, Mom?" Allison asked. "When you left–"

"It's what Dad said," Cassie jumped in before anyone else. "It was a work trip–"

"A really long work trip. You missed the school play–"

"Allie." Cassie glared at her younger sister. "We don't talk about this stuff anymore, remember?"

"Well," Allison crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Erin. "You did miss my play."

"And I'm sorry about that too, Allie. I really am-"

"Excuse me," Carmelina found her opening in the conversation. "What are we not talking about?"

"Umm… well… Mom had to leave us–"

"Allison!" Dave barked, across the table then quickly lowered his voice. She hadn't done anything wrong. This was on him. "That's enough. Please just eat your dinner."

"David," Erin said, "I thought you told your mother everything."

"Told me what?" Carmelina glared at her son, "What are you talking about?"

"Ehhh…" he dropped his spoon in the bowl. "I didn't exactly lie—"

"Then what did you say?" Erin insisted, growing heated.

"I didn't go into a lot of detail."

"Details? Details about what? David, what are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything—" He turned to Erin, "I was protecting your privacy."

"Her privacy?" Mrs. Rossi repeated. "About what? I think I have a right to know what the heck you're talking about. Talking in code is rude, Davy."

"Oh." Erin scoffed bitterly. "Says the woman who writes notes in Morse code—"

"I thought we were past that," Carmelina said.

"We are. I'm just saying that you don't exactly have the market cornered on manners."

"Well, what the hell are you two hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything—" Dave repeated.

"You're not exactly volunteering information either!" Erin said.

"That's enough." Dave interjected. "It was a long time ago. We don't need to get into it."

"Yes, you do!" Carmelina insisted. "You can't start a story like that and expect me to drop it."

"This was a bad idea," Paul's chair scraped against the floor. "Family dinners never end well."

"Something happens when we all sit at a table," Cassie mumbled and picked up her bowl. Allison abandoned her meal and Paul made her walk in front of him. Out of the line of fire.

Erin looked back at Dave, "Why didn't you tell your mother before she came here? You said she knew everything." Protecting the children from adult problems was one thing, but Dave should have told his mother what she was walking into. Erin never asked him to keep her secrets, so she assumed Carmelina knew everything about her.

Dave shrugged, "I gave her the highlights–The important things."

"What important things?" Erin snapped.

"Just how great you are, Cara." He patted her leg under the table. "The things that mattered."

"Where did you go? You seem like a good mother. What took you away from them?" Carmelina tried again. "Just finish the story."

"Let it go, Ma," Dave demanded. "Please, just let it go."

"I will not." Carmelina's voice rose. "Tell me where you went!"

"Rehab!" Erin slammed her palms on the table, rattling the silverware. "I spent 3 months in rehab to get my life back. A fact I did not share with my child when she was 8 years old."

"Rehab?" Carmelina repeated. "Why?"

Erin narrowed in on Carmelina. "Your son is marrying a brutal, lying, alcoholic. And, I lied about that chili. It's not a recipe. I added a few more ingredients but it's just a bunch of canned, pre-made grocery store crap, mixed together."

Anyone who walked into the Rossi cabin at that moment, would have been able to hear a mouse fart.

Erin sat back down and chanced a look at David. He looked guilty and regretful. Which summed up how Erin felt.

"Kids, huh?" He said glibly.

Locking eyes with Mrs. Rossi, Erin prepared for some other line of questioning. But a strange thing happens when two women at odds finally understand each other a little more…Carmelina just said, "They never grow out of that mouthy phase, do they?" She plopped a spoonful of sour cream into her bowl and kept eating.

"I for one," Dave went back for seconds. "I'm impressed, Erin." He winked at her. "You managed to raise honest kids, get and stay sober and make delicious chili. Could we make the chicken one next time?"