There were a few other photographs scattered around—a couple featuring the dog, some of the older man with different women, and one of a yacht—but none that included Tesah Clover himself.
Altogether, there were fewer than ten pictures, and Kira Samia found that rather sad.
Her grandparents may have been strict, even overbearing at times, but they'd cherished every moment of her upbringing. Report cards, photos, even baking competition flyers from her childhood had all been carefully preserved in scrapbooks. The love they'd had for her was evident in every keepsake.
Feeling like she was intruding on something private, Kira quietly stepped out of the study and returned to the living room.
Tesah was still focused on whatever he was doing in the kitchen.
She leaned against the butcher block in the center of the kitchen and took in the inviting smell of the food he was preparing. He was chopping vegetables for a salad, and it looked like he knew what he was doing.
He admitted that he hoped it would taste as good as it smelled, though he seemed a little uneasy with the compliment.
Kira was surprised to learn that he enjoyed cooking and even more surprised when he revealed that he had never really cooked for anyone before. He rarely, if ever, brought women to his home.
She teased him with repeated disbelief, which clearly tested his patience. He finally told her she was being annoying, though she playfully pointed out that the synonyms she'd used—frustrating and aggravating—meant the same thing. He insisted on using the word "annoying," and said she was difficult to talk to.
She admitted it was a defense mechanism, especially around him. He pointed her to a cabinet with cutlery and place settings and asked her to help set the table. She obliged with a sarcastic "yes, sir" and got to work.
Kira took her first bite of the perfectly cooked steak and was instantly impressed. The meat was juicy, flavorful, and practically melted in her mouth.
Tesah had paired it with a rich mushroom sauce, a loaded baked potato, and a fresh green salad. While he sipped on a glass of Pinotage, she had chosen grape soda, briefly imagining it as wine—until the fizzy sweetness reminded her otherwise.
She complimented his cooking, still surprised by how good he was at it. Tesah said he found cooking relaxing but didn't dwell on the praise, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere.
He pointed out a remark she had made earlier about kidnappers and their victims, explaining that victims usually tried to connect with their captors, not the other way around.
Kira was momentarily confused but then laughed at his need to be technically accurate.
She clarified that her comment had been figurative, but he shrugged.
He then told her that the real reason he brought her to his home was to show her the place.
That caught her off guard. She asked why, feeling uneasy about his intentions. He hesitated, then admitted that the pregnancy had been unexpected for both of them, and that he assumed she hadn't been happy about it either when she first found out.
She admitted she hadn't been thrilled at first.
He asked why she had decided to keep the baby despite her doubts.
She replied that it wasn't because she wanted anything from him.
Tesah acknowledged that and even apologized for initially suggesting she had financial motives.
Kira didn't bring up the fact that he hadn't just implied it—he'd outright accused her of trying to trap him.
Instead, she focused on the memory of her early pregnancy days.
At first, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do—termination had even crossed her mind. But then, during a check-up, she'd seen tiny fingers and fingernails. That changed everything.
From that moment on, she felt fiercely protective.
It became real. She was going to be a mother.
Still, she knew raising a child would take financial stability, which was why she had eventually approached him.
Tesah then asked whether she would have told him about the baby if she'd decided to put the child up for adoption.
Kira admitted that she didn't know. With nothing between them, it would have felt like adding unnecessary complications.
After resting, Tesah suggested they should tell Lexington about kira's pregnancy.
"Tesah, there's no need for this disrespectful attitude," Kira said. "He's my cousin. I know how to handle him."
"I'll do it." She could hear him practically gritting his teeth as he said it, and she sighed, remaining silent to avoid an argument but already planning when and where to tell her cousin about the thing with Tesah.
She just needed to get to Lexi before Tesah did, which would be easy since Tesah was a slave to his schedule.
He seemed to take her silence for quiet agreement and changed the subject by asking her when she thought she'd be ready to move in.
"I'm not sure," she said. "I have to give notice here, sort out the baking job with my friend at the studio, and figure out what I'll be bringing with me."
"Let me know if you need help; I will arrange movers."
"I can do it myself," she protested, and he sighed loudly.
"There you go again, being needlessly difficult. It is a sincere offer of help, sweetness." She blinked at the endearment. She had Googled it after their return from Medina and discovered that it meant "sweetness." This was the first time he had used it outside of an intimate setting, and it took her by surprise.
"Thanks," she whispered, wondering how on earth this was going to work when every single offer he made to help her felt like charity and a blow to her pride. She needed to loosen up a bit.
They ended the call soon afterward, and after a quick shower, she slipped into a pair of fuzzy pajamas and sent a text message to Jake, asking where he was. It was nearly midnight when he responded.
Out with Carl. Be home soon.
Kira stared at the screen and wondered who on earth Carl was. Last time she checked, he was dating some guy named Bryan.
She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of cocoa, trying not to see the dishes piled in the sink. Tesah's cold marble-and-chrome masterpiece of an apartment wouldn't remain pristine for long. She wasn't the neatest of roommates, and she hoped for his sake he'd meant it when he said he wouldn't be around much.
She was sitting at the kitchen table when Jake finally breezed in about ten minutes later, and she got up immediately to walk straight into his arms and hug him tightly. His arms closed around her in surprise.
"Hey, what's this? Are you okay, hon? I'm sorry for deserting you at the doctor's office, but Clover said he'd get you home and that you guys needed to work some stuff out, which I definitely agreed with. Did he upset you? I'm sorry. I should have foreseen that . . . I should have stayed."
"No," she murmured into his chest. "You were right. We had some stuff to work out. I'm not upset about that."
"Then what's this about? Pregnancy hormones again?"
"Jake, we need to talk." She took his hand and led him to the kitchen table, where he sat down opposite her, his face etched with concern.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she whispered.
"About what? Moving? Hon, we've been over this . . ."
"For never really forgiving you after the accident." His mouth snapped shut and his eyes burned into hers. He didn't say a word, and she reached over to touch one of his clenched fists where it rested on the table. "It wasn't your fault, you know. But I needed someone to blame, and all these years I've subconsciously blamed you, and worse, I allowed you to blame yourself. Which makes me a crappy friend and an even crappier person."
"I dropped you," he said quietly, and he turned his hand over to clasp hers.
"And my timing and balance were off," she said firmly. "You know that. How we both didn't get catastrophically injured is beyond me."
"Still, I should have held on. I was taller, stronger . . ."
"Hon," she said, using his nickname for her, and he smiled through the tears that were starting to glitter in his gray eyes. "You're only human. When I lost my balance, you tried your damnedest to hold on to me, but you couldn't. In all this time I never really admitted that I was also to blame. I've been so selfish. I've sat back and watched you practically self-destruct, and I never once said anything. I just let you do it.
And the worst is, in three years, I never even realized it until tonight. I've felt sorry for myself long enough. My baking career is over, and it has been for years. And my life is fine without baking, and, Jake, as your very best friend who wants nothing but wonderful things for you, I want you to go out there and be everything I no longer can. Your career isn't over; you're a damned fine baker. Stop acting like a complete ass to make me feel better and get your career back on track."
"Where's all this coming from?" he asked.
"I'm going to be a mother, time for me to start behaving like an adult, don't you think? I love you, Jake, and I'm going to miss you like crazy once you start working and touring, but let's face it, we do tend to drive each other crazy all the time anyway."