Chapter Eighteen

“Son of a . . .” I catch myself in time of owing Julie damn Starbucks. I’m fixing to end that rule and she’ll learn the colorful words I’m trying to shelter her from. What better way to learn real life conversations than at home . . . it was our duty as parents. “Bitch.” I completed my phrase and stare at her.

We are at a crossroads. I could see her tiny lips twitching to call me out but something held her back. It could have been my mess of hair, my frazzled state, the dog hair covering my black business suit— or the fact I was holding a shoe with a broken heel looking at the mess of spaghetti sauce Kinsley was smearing all over the kitchen tiles.

“Jesus,” my husband— their sire— barks.

“Yes. You need him. This home needs him.” I bite back. I have thirty minutes to make this house look presentable, change, and prep Avery and Caden’s room. They could have stayed with one of their parents but it was important for me that they stay here. I haven’t seen them since July— none of them— and I miss my friends.

“Shortstop,” Deacon comes close. “I wish you’d consider a cleaning crew to help. You’re working yourself to the bone.” He stares at his daughter like she’s sprouted three heads as she continues her masterpiece along the kitchen floor. “Or you could cut back your hours. We don’t need the money, Say.”

I whirl to confront him but am thrown off balance with a missing heel, so of course his arms catch me and I get distracted up against his body. I shake my head and kick my one heel off and back up. “You could cut back your hours. Or help pick up the house one day a week.” I’m snapping at him because I’m battling myself.

My old self is at war with my new self. I had dreams. Goals. They were important. But they’ve become less since loving Deacon and having the girls. And I think deep down I’m waiting for him to leave— abandon me and leave me with no means of support. My job is my security and I feel horrible because it should be my husband.

“I can’t cut back at work— I’m in the middle of development but you’re right. I can help around the house some.” Shit. I’m the biggest bitch. And that’s saying a lot because I’m friends with Emberlee.

“No. I’m sorry.” I drop my head down and blow a frustrated sigh. His arms wrap around me and he drags me into his chest. “I’m horrible.”

“Don’t talk about my wife like that.” He kisses my temple and I melt. “Talk to me.”

“We don’t have time.” I whine.

“We do. Nothing else is as important as this.” He motions from his chest to mine and he’s right.

“The girls?” We can’t leave them unsupervised. Do that for an entire forty-five seconds and I’ll be scrubbing marinara from the grout for a month.

The doorbell rings and Julie and her dog screech past with Kinsley trying to keep up. “Jesus.” he growls. I don’t know if he thinks calling him nineteen times a day will make him appear.

“Hey!” Aves cheers and I want to burst into tears. My house is a mess, I’m disheveled and slowly reaching break down status. She notices my dilemma and grabs Kinsley, Caden grabs Julie and she points to the stairs. “Go. Deal. We’ve got this.”

I miss this support.

I miss my friends.

“Just keep an eye on them. I’ll get everything else when we’re done talking.” I give Aves a quick hug and Caden squeezes me tight.

“Go.” He pushes me to Deacon. I follow my husband to the master bedroom and plop down to the bed.

“Talk to me, Shortstop.” Shame heats my face. This man has given me no reasons to doubt him; he’s dealt with my insecurities, taken them as his own and slayed my demons. Problem is, they keep creeping up.

“I’m fighting myself and common sense. I know this, but I can’t stop myself.” I begin to fidget.

He kneels down in front of me and takes my hands. “Words, Saylor. More of them. Make me understand. Don’t shut me out.”

I open my mouth and it all tumbles free. “I want to cut back on hours, but I’m afraid to give up the security it brings. I want more time with our girls but I’m so exhausted at the end of the week, I drag ass with them all weekend. I want a night with just you but because I’m at work eight to nine hours a day, I can’t let them outta my sight any longer. I’m fucking tired. I miss my friends. You’ve always been supportive and I’m grateful for everything. I love you. But I keep waiting for you to leave.”

His face doesn’t change. His body doesn’t tense. He continues to stare at me the same way— with love. “Not happening, Shortstop. It’s okay for you to feel like this. We’ve had a lot of changes in a short time. But, come to me. Let me reassure you. I don’t give a fuck if it’s once a month or ten times a day. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it because I never get tired of saying it. I love you.” He catches my tears with his thumb and I know me crying makes him stabby. “Saylor, you do the finances. I gave that to you so you’d feel secure. Cut back at work but take your normal salary from our account. That money is ours, so if you need to take some and put it in an account I don’t have access to— one I don’t know about— do it, baby. Whatever you need.”

“I’m high maintenance.” I drop my forehead to his and sigh.

“Yeah. But you’re also an amazing woman. A terrific wife. And the best mother I’ve ever seen. You’re the best friend. Most important, you’re mine.” I sigh. I love Deacon Douglas. To the moon and back doesn’t begin to describe the depth and far reach of my feelings.

“Go greet our company. I’m gonna get their room ready and I’ll start a bath for our marinara masterpiece.” I giggle and shake my head.

“I’m lucky.” I whisper.

“We both are. Love you, Say.” I kiss his lips and think back to all the moments he’s chosen me. Making me feel safe after the disaster of a party. Letting me into Julie’s life when he kept her at a distance. Fighting for me. Letting me go. Welcoming me with open arms.

No matter what anxiety from my past issues creep in— he’s there to soothe them. He’s there to love me.