Chapter 67
Josephine
I’m racking my brain and pulling out all the stops, trying to lighten the mood.
Decker’s nervous. We all are.
It doesn’t help that I’m testing their resolve by insisting I navigate the lake.
It’s been three days since we came home from the mountains. Three days since I moved back into the mansion.
It’s been three days, but it feels like a lifetime.
Major decisions have been made. Strategic moves are officially in place.
Today is the last step. When it’s done, we can finally move forward.
Life is restarting slowly in Lake Chapel. The guys haven’t had to report for practice yet, and Lake Chapel University resumed virtually so they can stagger the start of in-person classes.
Easing back in like this has allowed us to prepare. To quietly work out the legal and financial pieces of the puzzle and to plan out today’s press conference.
“Anchors away!” I call out from the helm.
Locke laughs, but he’s the only one.
“Prepare to be boarded!” I holler, giving the throttle a bit more juice as we cruise across the smooth surface of the lake, headed for the marina.
“You know none of that makes sense,” my husband grumbles.
He’s got major Big Decker Energy rolling off him today, and it’s hot as hell.
He’s dressed to perfection in a dark suit and red tie.
His legs are splayed wide, and he’s got an arm resting casually on the back of the bench seat, but the frantic jitter of his knee gives away his anxiety.
So does the restless vitality rolling off him in waves.
“Excuse me.” I furrow my brow and pop my hip, wagging one finger his way. “Are you the captain of this ship?”
“It’s a pontoon,” Kylian corrects. As if I don’t already know that.
“Aye aye, matey. Don’t make me throw you overboard or force you to walk the plank!”
Locke laughs again, and even Kendrick cracks a smile. Decker continues to scowl.
“Wait,” Kylian says, perking up. “Is ‘the plank’ a euphemism for sex, or—”
“What the hell? Why is no one wearing life vests? Put them on,” Decker barks, sitting up straighter and reaching for his own.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. We rarely wear them on the pontoon. I scan our surroundings, searching for what he’s seen to make him panic.
“We’re fine,” he assures me as he joins me at the helm. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in the crook of my neck. Then he wordlessly straps me into a safety vest.
For a long moment, he stays like that, breathing me in. I don’t tease him or pull away, either. My heart aches for this stoic, heartbroken man.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against my skin. “I’m just anxious about how this is all about to go down,”
Nodding, I look at the guys and mouth, “He’s okay.”
Then, hoping to lighten the moment, I shout, “You heard my first mate, you scalawags. Put on yer life vests or prepare to walk the nonsexual plank!”
Decker’s breathing has evened out when he lifts his head and regards his friends.
“Hopefully the life vests deter our captain here from getting any dirty ideas.”
I elbow him in the stomach, but my heart floats in my chest, because he’s at least calm enough to make a wisecrack.
“Har har. Joke’s on you, Cap. The skipper and my cabin boy got me off before we set sail.”
Kendrick guffaws, nudging Locke. “You’re the cabin boy.”
“Yeah. Okay, Skipper,” Locke replies coolly. “Apparently cabin boys get to come twice, so I’m not mad about it.”
Decker grumbles as he sits again, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang.
Kendrick makes his way over to me as we approach the marina, silently offering to take over and dock. He kisses me quickly as we trade places, then nods toward Decker.
I squeeze his arm in acknowledgment. “I’ve got him.”
As soon as I sit beside him, he wraps his arm around me. It’s awkward as hell because the life vests he insisted on makes it impossible for us to get close.
He scans the shoreline, then looks down his nose at me and reaches for the buckles. I purse my lips and use every ounce of restraint I possess to hold back the smart comment I want to make as he unclips us both and helps me shrug out of the safety device.
Once there’s nothing between us but a few layers of fabric, he envelops me in his hold again and exhales.
“I want to give you something,” he whispers once we’re docked, “but I’m nervous.”
The trepidation in his tone is so foreign it sends a wave of anxiety through me. Pulling back, I survey his face, searching for understanding.
“Meet you at the car,” Kendrick murmurs. He kisses my head and squeezes Decker’s shoulder, then he ushers Locke and Kylian off the boat.
Like he’s purposely trying to give us a minute.
Decker shifts, holding me in his lap with one arm as he reaches into his pocket.
He pulls out a little black box, and all I can do is stare, mouth agape and pulse taking off at a fast clip.
“I want you to have whatever ring you want,” he starts, popping open the lid with the flick of his thumb, “but for now—for today—I was hoping you’d wear this.”
Nestled between the velvet pillows is a platinum ring encasing a brilliant dark stone.
“It’s a gray diamond,” Decker explains, plucking it from the case. “It was my mom’s. Not her engagement or wedding ring. Just a ring she bought for herself. It’s not as expensive or rare as a standard diamond, but she loved it. She wore it all the time.”
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, suddenly trembling in his arms.
“I’ll get you a bigger diamond. One you can pick out yourself… or something the guys help pick out. Whatever you want. But for now—”
“Decker.” I cup his face and press a kiss to his lips.
“It’s perfect,” I repeat. “It’s beautiful. And I love that it was your mom’s.” I stare at the stunning, significant piece, feeling completely unworthy of such a generous gift. “Are you sure you want me to have it?”
“You’re my wife, Josephine,” he says, grasping my left hand. “I want you to have everything.” Then, softer, he bows low until our foreheads touch. “Will you do me the honor of wearing my ring?”
I grin at the formality of the request while fighting back a squeal, because he’s finally, effortlessly, giving me a choice.
“Yes,” I affirm, letting him slide the ring onto my finger.
The moment the cool metal notches into place, a sense of ease washes over me.
He’s trying. He’s trying so damn hard.
His earnestness and perseverance stitch a few pieces of my heart back together. It’s still frayed, but it’s healing. His devotion, their devotion, and the power he’s finally willing to share are mending what he broke bit by bit.
Decker cradles my fingers for a moment, admiring the ring, then kisses my knuckles. With a small smile, he stands and helps me to my feet.
“This is it,” he mutters as we smooth out our clothes.
Reaching out with my left hand, ring and all, I intertwine our fingers. Decker’s eyes widen in surprise. Then relief, followed by contentment, wash over his expression.
I know it then. Right now, right here, beginning today, I want to start fresh with him.
Not because of the jewelry or the abundance of confessions he’s made over the last several days.
But because of the earnestness with which he offered me the ring.
He didn’t make a demand or try to tell me what to do, even though I clearly should be wearing a wedding ring for the press conference.
It’s the way he offered to buy another or turn over the selection to the guys.
The way he asked me if I wanted to wear it and seemed fully prepared to respect my decision if I said no.
Options. Choices. It’s all I’ve ever wanted—and I finally recognize and appreciate just how hard it is for him to give up that control.
We’re not perfect. We’re quite possibly two of the most mismatched people ever paired together. We’re too similar—too stubborn and too hotheaded.
We’re not going to see eye to eye often.
But watching him adjust—knowing how hard he’s working to change—is enough.
“Ready?” he asks, guiding me forward with a gentle touch without letting go of my hand.
This is it. This is what it was all for.
I give him a warm smile and nod. I’m ready, and I’ve got him.
Then I let him help me off the boat and lead me to the car.