Free Once and For All: An American Valor Novel by Cheryl Etchison

case in her rush across the hall she hadn’t noticed him sitting there. He rose from the chair and headed into the kitchen where she appeared before him all soft and warm-looking.
    “I hope you don’t mind that I changed into my pajamas already.” Her fingers fiddled with the mousy brown strands, twirling the ends between her fingers just as she used to do as a girl then as a teenager.
    “Don’t mind at all.” While he placed the containers of food on the table, he noticed the thick, fuzzy socks on her feet. “Is it warm enough in here for you? I can turn the heat up.”
    “I’m fine. Just my feet are cold, really. And my hands.”
    He chuckled. “Not much has changed there. Your feet were always like a block of ice, even in the middle of summer.”
    The dinner conversation remained in the safe zone as they stuck with topics like their parents, old friends from high school, and places they’d each like to visit. In silent agreement they avoided speaking of Michael, the war and her remission status.
    “ ‘Doing what you like is freedom. Liking what you do is happiness.’ Seems fitting,” she said, handing him back the small slip of paper from his fortune cookie. “You should keep this one. Play the lottery numbers on the back. It’s probably good luck.”
    “What does yours say?” he asked around a mouthful of cookie.
    “Nothing really. It’s stupid. ‘A new job opportunity awaits you.’ ”
    “You should save that. Could prove lucky.”
    Bree rolled her eyes. “I was diagnosed with cancer, lost my job, and was forced to move back in with my parents all in the same year. If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”
    “Yeah, but you’re married to me now. Maybe your luck is changing?” He waggled his brows and flashed her his signature heartbreaker smile.
    Bree mumbled under her breath, something suspiciously sounding like “arrogant asshole” before she wadded up her small fortune and bounced it off his forehead.
    God, she was fun to mess with.
    “Do you have room for dessert?” he asked while shoving his chair back from the table. “There’s a bakery next door to the Chinese place so I bought a little something.”
    He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pale pink pastry box. From a drawer he grabbed two clean forks and a knife before returning to the table and placing the box in front of her. “For you.”
    She raised a brow. “If it’s for me then why did you bring two forks?”
    “Touché, smart-ass.” He laughed. “If you don’t want to share, fine. But I really doubt you can eat the entire thing. Especially not in one sitting.”
    “I’m kidding,” she said as she lifted the lid. Instantly, her face softened, her eyes welling with tears. Her sarcasm gave way to a soft gasp.
    “Don’t cry, please?” he begged. “I didn’t buy it to make you cry. I just thought you deserved a little something nice. You know, since I didn’t get down on one knee and all that.”
    She lifted the small cake from the box, holding it at eye level. He didn’t know squat about wedding cakes but was glad she liked it. Initially, he’d been unsure about all the fake little pink flowers on top, even if they were edible. And the sides looked like a puffy quilt with little polka dots where the lines crossed. The baker assured him Bree would love it and damn if it didn’t look like she was right.
    “Where did you get this?”
    “Like I said, there’s a bakery next to the Chinese place. I told them my wife and I eloped today and I wanted a nice cake that would go with dinner. They gave me that.”
    “It looks like a real wedding cake,” she whispered.
    “I think it is. Or the top of one, at least. There were several women working on these big cakes in the back and when I told this little white-haired woman working the counter what I was looking for, she disappeared into the back room and brought this out. She patted me on the cheek and told me to take it home to my