Chapter 64
Josephine
A yawn surprises me as I waltz into the kitchen. I lean into it, stretching my arms over my head, but startle when I open my eyes and find Decker cradling a mug at the kitchen table.
He’s the first one up—my guys are still down in the Den—and a surge of smug satisfaction hits me as I take him in.
His hair is mussed, his face is drawn, and his eyes are rimmed red, like he hasn’t slept at all.
Who knew marrying him would give me more ammunition when it came to riling him up?
Neither of us says a word as I prepare my coffee. I consider grabbing a blanket and heading out to the deck, but when I feel Decker’s attention boring into me, I risk a glance at him. He’s sitting at the table, watching me, wearing the saddest, most forlorn expression.
Taking pity on him, I sit in the chair across from him.
Clearing his throat, he sits up straighter and dons the stoic mask he wears so well. “How was your wedding night?”
I purse my lips and school my expression. How the hell does he expect me to answer that? Surely, he doesn’t really want to hear the details.
My body aches in the best possible way as I squirm in my seat. “It was fine, thanks.”
Decker glares over the steam rising out of his mug.
Wrong answer, I guess, but what does he want me to say? There’s no response that could make this moment less awkward.
He clears his throat again. It’s a nervous tic, I’m realizing, and one I’ve never noticed before. Probably because he’s rarely nervous.
“I’d like to take you somewhere today.”
My heart sinks. Here we fucking go.
I cock one eyebrow but say nothing.
“We don’t have time for a honeymoon… but I thought we could spend the day together. Just the two of us.”
Yeah. No. This isn’t happening.
“We’re married in name only, Decker. I’m with them,” I remind him, bringing my coffee to my lips.
He grits his teeth and grips his mug until his knuckles pale. “I’m well aware of that.”
I bet he is. The Den may be soundproofed, but I also may have noticed the door was left cracked open last night, and I didn’t bother to say anything.
“This isn’t how this works. You can’t just tell me where to go or whisk me away like I belong to you.”
“The guys know about my plan.”
I frown. “They do?”
I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the warmth all the way down as I swallow.
“It’s your choice, Josephine. Would you like to spend the day with me?”
His words surprise me—the very un-Decker-like offer and the acknowledgment that I have a choice.
“Where would we go?” I hedge, fully expecting him to withhold information.
Instead, he simply offers, “The beach.”
I perk up just a fraction. “Really?”
A day at the beach—the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun—sounds absolutely lovely. I’d prefer to go with all my guys, but I highly doubt that’s part of Decker’s plan.
Sitting a little straighter, Decker makes his case.
“I want to take you to the same place we went before. I have a buddy out that way who confirmed the roads are passable. According to him, that stretch of beach was untouched.”
“And if I say no?” I ask, my heart rate picking up its pace, readying for another battle.
He examines me, his jaw ticking all the while, likely formulating his next haughty scolding.
Once again, I’m knocked back by his response. “I’ll spend the day packing and closing up the house. Then we can head back to the isle first thing tomorrow.”
I roll my lips, fighting back a smile, ignoring the little flicker of warmth in my belly. “Okay,” I concede.
He squints, like he’s searching for a lie. Or maybe he’s expecting me to pull the rug out from under him. “Okay?”
His surprise is further proof that he still doesn’t get it. I’m not the combative, obstinate thorn in his side he thinks I am. All I want is a choice.
“Okay,” I repeat, standing up and smiling. “Let’s go to the beach.”