Chapter 25
~Daley~
Once I’m alone in the kitchen, I suck in a deep breath in an attempt to slow the pounding of my heart. It doesn’t make any sense for Deacon’s words to upset me so much. If anything, I should be glad to know there’s one thing about me he’ll find utterly repugnant as soon as he’s aware of it.
Isn’t that what I wanted? Haven’t I been trying to convince myself that pursuing anything further with him would be reckless and doomed to fail? So now that I have the perfect alibi to break off any lingering attraction he might still feel, why does the idea of using it set my stomach churning?
Cheaters are the lowest of the low, and that includes the person who knowingly goes after someone in a relationship. I don’t want to be associated with anyone who would do that.
The words echo in my head, spoken in his deep, authoritative tone, and though I can’t disagree with a single one of them, they drive the final nail into the coffin of whatever might have been between me and Deacon.
Because when I told him the story about River’s father, I didn’t mention Anthony’s wife and children.
He doesn’t know that the disgust he obviously feels towards Brady should apply to me as well.
I didn’t keep it from him intentionally; it didn’t seem relevant at the time, but now that I know his feelings on the subject, I can’t lie.
I need to come clean, which means he’ll look at me with the same disgust he feels for Brady, and losing his good opinion hits me harder than it has any right to.
It’s almost as if I could have imagined something more with him after all.
The toilet flushes down the hall, waking me up to the fact that I’ve been standing in the middle of the kitchen for several minutes now, accomplishing nothing besides berating myself internally.
Giving my head a shake, I pull the lasagna out of the oven to rest, gather the salad ingredients from the fridge, and am just starting to shred the lettuce when Deacon appears in the doorway.
“What can I do?”
“N-nothing.” I hate the way I stutter over the word, not to mention the way my body tingles at the sound of his voice.
Now that I know for certain nothing is going to happen between us tonight, he sounds even sexier than before.
“You’re my guest and you did me a huge favour today. You don’t need to help.”
“I know I don’t need to, but I want to.” He steps closer and even though I keep my gaze focused on the counter, I can tell he’s studying me. “Everything okay?”
The number of people in the world who can accurately read a change in my mood can be counted on one hand, but apparently, Deacon is on that list. “Why don’t you set the table?” I suggest, deflecting his question. “Plates are in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”
He stands there a moment longer, his stare burning a hole in the side of my face, before doing as I asked and grabbing two plates from the cupboard.
He finds the cutlery on his own and tops up our glasses from earlier before bringing them both to the table.
I’m so accustomed to River and his friends needing to be instructed on every small step that Deacon’s quiet competence seems like a novelty.
We work in silence, neither of us saying another word until I take the lasagna to the table, place it on the trivet River made for me in shop class, and pull the tinfoil off the top.
Deacon inhales deeply. “Fuck, that smells good. I’m starving.”
Instantly, my mind flashes back to him saying those words under very different circumstances, his face between my legs, and a pulse of deep longing flares in my core.
“Did you cook growing up, or did you learn later?” Deacon asks once we’ve both taken a seat and helped ourselves to some of the food.
The lasagna’s still steaming, so I start with the salad, savouring the way the fresh cherry tomatoes explode in my mouth.
The people who bought my grandparent’s farm after their passing still drop off fresh produce now and then; another benefit of living in small-town North Dakota.
“I learned the basics growing up. My parents were very traditional and ‘a girl’s place is in the kitchen’.” I put on a stern voice as I mimic my father, or at least an approximation of what he sounded like. It’s been so long since I heard his voice, I can’t be sure I truly remember it.
“You mentioned your parents were conservative, that you couldn’t go back home after getting pregnant,” he recalls, and I’m unexpectedly touched to know he was paying close enough attention to make the connection.
“Right. So, I learned how to cook as a teenager, but very meat-and-potatoes basics. Once I got out on my own and discovered cookbooks and internet tutorials, I expanded my repertoire. I enjoy cooking but baking is more fun.”
“The cookies you brought in were a big hit,” he tells me. “I heard at least one of the other guys asking River if you sell them.”
“That’s very flattering.” Truthfully, the compliment pleases me more than it should. “I experimented for many years to get the best recipe. There’s a science to it that I find very satisfying.”
“Of course there is.” His gentle teasing accompanies an affectionate smile that makes my chest tighten.
I planned to wait until we were finished eating to tell him the truth about Anthony, but suddenly, I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me with admiration when I know he won’t feel the same once he knows the full story.
The words come out of my mouth in a nearly-jumbled rush. “River’s father was married when I slept with him.”
Deacon’s hand freezes in mid-air, his lasagna-loaded fork half-way to his mouth. “Excuse me?”
Since there’s no taking the words back now, I force the whole story out.
“The professor I worked for, the one who got me pregnant, was married. For over twenty years. A wife and three kids, two girls and a boy. The oldest one was only a few years younger than me. I knew that when we got together. He had pictures of them in his office.”
The fork slowly drifts back to his plate. Deacon’s grey eyes lock onto mine and I force myself to hold his gaze and face his reckoning. His jaw muscles tighten as he processes the information I just threw at him. “And that didn’t bother you?”
“Not as much as it should have,” I admit, trying not to flinch at the way the corners of his mouth pull down in disappointment.
“He told me that they’d been unhappy for a while, that they were only staying together for their kids.
He did a very convincing job of painting himself as the victim of an unfulfilling arrangement until I got pregnant and he realized he could lose everything.
That’s when it became very clear that he never intended to choose me over them.
I’d only been fooling myself that we were actually in love, and not once did I truly try to put myself in his wife’s shoes.
It was incredibly selfish of me, though it’s a lot easier to see that in hindsight. ”
Deacon swallows hard, his eyes dropping to his plate and the half-eaten meal there. He’s probably lost his appetite, the same as I have, which is why I wanted to wait to tell him until supper was over.
“I didn’t tell you that part before because it wasn’t really relevant to how I ended up with River, but after what you just said about cheaters, I thought you deserve to know that I fall into that category. I respect the way you feel, and if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I understand.”
Deacon nods and my heart sinks, even though I fully expected that response.
From everything I’ve learned about him in our limited time together, I’ve gleaned that he’s a principled, disciplined and passionate man.
This is obviously a personal subject for him, and he owes me nothing.
It’s for the best that he found this out before I got even more attached.
He doesn’t get up like I expect him to, though. Seconds tick by as he studies his food, his large frame making the regular-sized dinner plate in front of him look smaller than it really is.
“Is this why you don’t think you deserve a relationship?”
The words are so unexpected, they almost sound like a foreign language and I blink at him a couple of times, trying to make sense of what he said.
Ultimately, I can’t and have to ask for clarification. “What do you mean?”
He lifts his eyes so that they’re once more staring into mine.
“You’re a smart, beautiful woman who’s been on her own for 19 years.
You insist that we can’t be romantically involved even though I know you feel this connection between us the same way I do.
Jane says you never give anyone local a chance.
It sounds like self-sabotage to me, Daley. Is this why?”
“Jane said what?”
I’m going to kill her. I knew I shouldn’t have left the two of them alone together.
“Stop deflecting,” he chides. “Do you think you don’t deserve happiness?”
“You’re the one who said that cheaters are the lowest of the low,” I remind him. “I don’t disagree.”
“Your circumstances…”
“... don’t matter,” I cut him off firmly. “I should have known better. I should have done better. I’m not making excuses for myself, and I don’t want you to either. I rebelled against my controlling parents by having an affair with a married man and I had to deal with the consequences of that.”
“By denying yourself a chance to be happy,” he repeats. “I think your parents are still there in your head more than you realize. How much penance do you have to do? How much atonement until you can live your life for yourself again?”
“That’s not… this isn’t…”
Flustered, I get to my feet, unable to control the uncomfortable crawling sensation beneath my skin that whispers that he might have a point.
All this time, I’ve devoted myself to raising River completely differently to the way I was brought up, accepting and supporting him as much as I could, but did I ever afford myself the same grace?
Do I even know how?
“You’re supposed to be mad at me,” is all I can think of to say as I retreat behind the safety of the island, putting some space between us.
“I’m not thrilled that you did that,” he agrees, leaning back in his chair as he watches me, looking frustratingly in control when I feel completely out of my comfort zone.
“But maybe things aren’t quite as black and white as what I said before.
Maybe we can both be a little more flexible.
If you stop lying to yourself, I’ll concede that people are capable of learning from their mistakes. Even Brady, maybe. Even you.”
“What am I lying about?” My arms wrap around my stomach in a futile attempt to take back some ownership over this situation, but the second Deacon rises from his seat, I know it’s a lost cause.
He rounds the island until he stands so close to me that if I turn to face him, I’d be staring straight into his hard chest.
“You’re lying about wanting me to sleep in River’s room tonight.”
His blunt yet utterly true statement takes me so off guard that my head swivels up to gape at him, and that’s all the invitation he needs to close the remaining distance and capture my lips in a deep, searing kiss.