Finding Home by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online

took a pot out of the lower cupboard and spooned in two servings of stroganoff, then added one more for good measure in case Brad was really ravenous. The linguine stood in the bowl where she’d placed it earlier. Stacey dumped that into another pot, poured water over it and set it on the burner beside the stroganoff.
    â€œFive minutes for the linguine, ten for the stroganoff,” she announced. Then, taking a chilled bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, she poured some into a long-stemmed glass and handed it to him. “You can have this while you’re waiting.”
    â€œYou’re a life saver.” He murmured the words to her back as she filled a second glass for herself. Brad took a long sipand let the red liquid pour itself through his veins. For a moment, his eyes had fluttered shut. “God, that feels good.”
    Stacey felt a slight pinch in the pit of her stomach. There was a time when Brad had said that after they had finished making love.
    To her “good” was a paltry word, hardly fit to describe their lovemaking. Though never frequent because of the demands of his work, when they had occurred, the sessions had been nothing short of spectacular. He’d always teased her that it was quality, not quantity that counted, and he’d certainly made a true believer out of her. At least, until the occasions grew fewer and fewer, moving further apart until eventually, it felt as if she was faced with neither quantity nor quality.
    Stacey offered him a smile that involved mostly her lips and not her heart. And was then surprised when Brad touched his half-empty glass to her full one.
    â€œTo another twenty-five years,” he said before taking another sip.
    Her heart twisted a little. “Twenty-six,” she corrected.
    â€œTwenty-six?” he repeated, furrowing his brow. “Has it been that long?” He tried to think back to the actual year. For a second, nothing came to him. He drew a blank. “Are you sure?”
    Did he actually think she didn’t remember when they had gotten married? That he’d forgotten cut her to the quick. It was all she could do to keep the hurt from registering on her face.
    â€œI’m sure,” she answered with a cheerfulness that rang hollow to her own ear. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
    He knew her inside and out and he knew that hurt tone. He couldn’t fault her, he supposed. But by now, he wouldhave thought that she understood. She shouldn’t need the outward trappings, the constant assurances. Shouldn’t she just know that he loved her without wanting to be shown, without having him jump through hoops all the time?
    Weren’t women ever satisfied?
    He sought what little patience his day had left him. “Stacey—”
    â€œI’ll get dinner,” Stacey told him, cutting him off as she turned away. That was his I’m-lecturing-even-though-I-don’t-consider-this-a-lecture tone. She didn’t want to hear it. The way she felt right now, she wasn’t sure if she could hold her tongue, and once things were said, they couldn’t be unsaid.
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    â€œYou know, I think I like stroganoff better after it’s been warmed up once,” Brad told her a few minutes later as they sat at the dining room table.
    Stacey looked at him over the unlit candles. She’d begun to light them once she’d brought his dish to the table, only to have him stop her. There was no reason to light candles, he’d told her. After all, the power hadn’t gone out.
    But it has, she thought now as she watched him eat. It’s gone out of our marriage, Brad. You just can’t see it.
    â€œGood,” he murmured, raising his fork as if in tribute. “After all these years, you haven’t lost your touch.”
    How would you know? she wondered as she nodded in response with a half smile. Try as she might to connect a date, an event, to the last time that they