“Thanks for telling me about your mom,” she said. “And I’m sorry about the mess in the kitchen.”

“Not a problem. I appreciate your attempt to make me lasagna.”

She chuckled. “I guess I should have started my cooking career with something more simple. So what do you want for takeout tonight? I was kind of thinking of Italian, if I haven’t scared you off that.”

“Sounds great.”

“I was so sure I could do this,” Josie said, later that evening when they’d finished their dinner. “Apparently lasagna is something I should wait to tackle when I’m more upright. What do you think?”

He thought she was beautiful, but didn’t think he should share that. She might not understand how he meant it. Or maybe she would know exactly what was on his mind. What would she say if she knew how much he wanted her? Would she smile at him the way she used to when she read the desire in his eyes, or would she politely, gently refuse him?

“Del?”

“Huh?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table. They’d spent the better part of an hour cleaning up the mess from her failed cooking project, then had ordered in pasta from a nearby restaurant. Now the remains of their meal lay in front of them.

“I was asking you if you would like me to try cooking lasagna again when I’m back on my feet.”

Her question had so little to do with what he was thinking that he had a hard time responding. “Oh, yeah. Sure. That would be great.”

She stared at him, then drew back in her chair. She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. That was really presumptuous of me.” Her voice sounded small, as if she had been hurt by something he’d said. Color crept up her face. “You’re probably thinking you’ll never get rid of me. But you will. I promise. Just as soon as I can walk, I’ll be out of here and you can have your life back.”

Her discomfort, not to mention the rush of words, got his attention. He realized that she was embarrassed, assuming he hadn’t responded because he wanted her gone. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. He also realized that three years ago he would have taken her words the wrong way. He wouldn’t have seen the defensive posture or the blush. Instead he would have gone defensive himself, figuring she was trying to be the one to leave, rather than the one left. That it was all about her, rather than them.

“Josie, I’m enjoying having you stay here,” he told her. “I’m not looking forward to having you gone, so let’s not talk about it. As for you cooking me lasagna, I would like that very much.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Sure. After the way I’ve been catering to you, you’re going to owe me some home-cooked meals. I intend to collect every single one of them.”

“Deal,” she said with a grin. “However, I should probably start with simple stuff. Remember the time I tried to make you a birthday cake? It was so crooked. I thought I could fix it by applying a little extra frosting, but it didn’t help.”

“What I remember is the color. You made it that weird blue-green.”

“It was teal,” she said, sounding amused and faintly defensive. “I wanted a baking color, but something a little masculine.”

“Cakes are, by definition, not masculine. And who ever heard of teal frosting?”

“I couldn’t find it anywhere so I had to make it myself. With food coloring. It took a long time to get the blend right.”

“Did you ever think about the fact that if it wasn’t available for purchase that there might be a reason?”

Her mature response was to stick her tongue out at him. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

He pressed his hands on the table and rose to his feet. “Actually it was, and I have proof.”

He walked into the family room, to the cabinet against the far left wall. On the bottom shelf were a couple of photo albums. He picked them up and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Then he returned to the eating area and carried Josie the few feet to the sofa.

“This is torture,” she complained as he set her on a cushion. “I’d forgotten you’d taken pictures. It’s cruel to remind me of my lone baking failure.” She glanced at him and giggled. “Don’t you dare mention it’s the only cake I ever tried to make.”

“Would I say that?” he asked as he settled next to her. “Let’s see if I can find the proof here somewhere.”

He set the first photo album in front of them. Flipping the pages forward, he let them fall open randomly. As he glanced down, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t found the birthday cake pictures. Instead the two exposed pages contained photos from their first Christmas morning together.

Del’s throat tightened as he stared at the moments in time, frozen in vivid color. Josie ripping open packages, her flannel nightshirt tails riding up her leg to her butt. Her short blond hair was mussed, her face makeup-free and bright with anticipation. Several more pictures showed her holding up a white seethrough nightie. In the last picture on the pages, she’d unbuttoned her plaid nightshirt and was holding it open enough for him to see the hollow between her breasts. Her mouth formed an exaggerated, sexy pout, her eyes danced with amusement.

Josie, so lean and carefree. Moving easily, knowing that her body would do whatever she asked. Her face…He leaned forward and studied the familiar features. Features that had little in common with the woman sitting next to him. Even knowing they were the same person, he had trouble reconciling the past with the present.

“I look so different,” she said quietly, reaching out and rubbing one of the pictures. “Younger. I can’t decide if I was pretty or not then. I think I was.”

“You were,” he said and risked looking at her. “Pretty and full of life.”

Sadness softened her expression. There weren’t any tears or hints of self-pity, yet he knew this had to be difficult for her.

“We don’t have to look at these if you don’t want to,” he said.

“I think I would like a little trip down memory lane. If you don’t mind.”

He shook his head and turned the page. More Christmas pictures, these taken at his folk’s house. He and Josie had gone there for dinner. There was a photo of the table, perfectly decorated in red and green with a huge pine-and-red-rose centerpiece.

“Your mom sure knew how to set a table,” Josie said, pointing to the gleaming crystal and silver.

But Del was paying more attention to her. Sitting this close, and on her right, he could see the tiny scars under her chin and by her ear. He’d never noticed them before, but now he recognized the permanent marks of her surgery. Her skin was smooth and tight, her mouth and eyes as they had always been. But the rest of her was so very different.

“You’re beautiful now,” he said without thinking.

She turned to look at him. Doubt darkened her eyes. “You think so?”

“Yes. You were pretty before, but now you’re beautiful. Not just your face, but your hair, too.” He touched a blond curl. “I like it long.”

She blushed slightly and turned her attention back to the album. “Yes, well, I did wear it short before, didn’t I?”

“Too short.”

She squinted at the pictures. “I’d have to agree with you.” She sighed. “Although I do miss that body.”

“I don’t. I like this one.”

She grimaced. “That’s because you haven’t seen it. Trust me, it’s not attractive. Not only are there parts that don’t want to work right, there are also some pretty angry looking scars. Not to mention the twenty pounds I’ve gained.”

“I like the curves.”

“Really?” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I do have cleavage for the first time in my life. That’s kind of nice.”

He thought about asking to see it, but figured that was way out of line. Instead he continued flipping the pages of the album, documenting their history in single moments. There were vacation trips and more holidays. When they were finished, he reached for the second book, then paused.

“You up to this?” he asked.

She touched the lace-edged cover. In the center of the album was an oval containing a picture of them standing together on their wedding day. Josie wore a white lace wedding gown, fitted and sleeveless. Del was in a dark tux.

“I can stand it if you can,” she murmured.

He could. He opened to the first page. One of their wedding invitations had been tucked into the binding. Josie pulled it out and opened the flap of the envelope. There was a picture on the front-of her and Del together in a park. He was carrying her piggyback and they were both laughing at the camera. It was late fall, but a warm day because they were both in shorts and T-shirts. They looked happy and impossibly young.

Without thinking, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. The second he realized what he’d done, he wondered if he should pull away or leave it in place. Fortunately, Josie snuggled close and leaned her head on his shoulder. When she sighed, he felt her soft breath on his neck.

“Turn the page,” she said when she’d replaced the invitation. “I want to see the rest of it.”

He did as she requested, flipping through their rehearsal-a casual affair with Josie carrying a bouquet of ribbons and bows from her wedding shower-to the crowd that gathered for the ceremony itself.

“There’s your dad,” he said, pointing to a tall man looking uncomfortable in his tux.

She nodded. He remembered that all of her family had come out for the wedding. A.J. and David, her oldest brother, had been ushers. Her sisters had been bridesmaids with young Blair and Brent acting as ring bearer and flower girl. Until Del had seen all the Fitzgeralds together, he hadn’t realized how large her family was, or how small his appeared by comparison.

There were pictures of the ceremony and the reception, and a few pages from their honeymoon in Hawaii. In the back was an envelope. At first Del didn’t realize what was inside, then he started to laugh. He reached for it, but Josie grabbed it first.