Chapter 30
SAM
It has been two days since I last saw Becca, and I hate it. I took for granted how lucky I was to have daily access to my wife, to see her smile, to be in her presence. I won’t do that ever again.
Needing to hear her voice, I pick up the phone.
“Hey, baby. How’s your day going?” I ask, trying not to sound desperate to hear her voice.
“Hey,” she answers distractedly. “I know we were planning to get together tonight, but the cabin just got booked for the first time! A young couple. They said they’ve always dreamed of a water view but could never afford it. But they can here!”
“Congratulations. You worked your ass off for this,” I respond, meaning every word. I’m impressed every damn day by what she’s done on her own.
“Thanks. But I’m slammed. I have to deep-clean everything, pack up all my stuff, and move it to Phoenix’s place.”
My stomach drops. She’s leaving the cabin.
This place has been a holding pattern for us. Safe, homey, and temporary. But Phoenix’s spare room? That feels like a step away from me.
“I’ll be right there—with your favorite burger and fries—and I’ll help you pack.”
“You don’t have to. It’s a small space.” She sounds cautious, but I hear the relief in her voice.
“Chocolate or strawberry shake?”
A beat. Then, softly, “Strawberry.”
“Got it. See you in twenty, babe.” I hang up, a quiet pride curling in my gut at the primal satisfaction of bringing my woman food.
The scent of fries fills my truck as I pull up. She’s out front, scrubbing the siding with a mop. That’s my Becca. Never halfway. Whether it’s marriage or business, when she commits, she commits. And I took that for granted. Never again.
“Becca, what are you doing?” I call gently, flipping open my tailgate as a makeshift table.
“I saw a layer of dust on the cabin. Can you believe that? I’m scrubbing it clean. What if my guests leave a bad review because they touched the outside and it wasn’t perfect?”
She’s serious. I can see it in her eyes.
I hold back a laugh and take the calm approach. “Okay. But when’s the last time you ran your finger along the outside of a house?”
She hesitates, then lowers the mop. “You’re right. I just … I want everything to be perfect. What if someone mentions a smudge or a spot on the window? Reviews are everything. I have to nail this.”
And there it is. The part she hides from everyone else, the anxiety behind perfectionism. Logic won’t help her, not right now. So I walk over, kiss her forehead, lift her easily by the hips, and settle her on the tailgate.
“Okay, boss. You eat, I’ll work. What’s next on the list?”
She sips her milkshake, smiling. “Boss? I could get used to it,” she teases.
“I’m yours to command,” I say, as her eyes drift down my body in my white t-shirt and over-worn jeans. She blushes, flustered, just the way I like her.
“Hey now—eyes up here. But if you need me to stay late and handle anything else, I’m always happy to put in the long hours for my favorite manager.” I hint at her and wink.
She bites her lip, and I swear she’s thinking about more than her to-do list. But I keep it light.
“Is window washing on your list?”
She shakes her head like she’s trying to rejoin reality. “Uh, yes. Yeah, it is.”
“Great. You eat. I’ll start.” I grab the ladder from my truck and head toward the already-spotless windows. They don’t need washing, but if my woman feels better with an exceptionally clean place, then that is what she is going to get.
As I am finishing up the last window, I feel her eyes on me. I peek over my shoulder just to check. “You’re staring, baby.” I grin.
With no shame in her game now, she responds, “Just admiring the view.”
I could fist pump the air with how accomplished I feel, bringing back her playful side with me. I turn and start walking toward her, pushing her legs wide on the tailgate and standing between them. “You can stare at me anytime you want, darling, it’s all for you.”
Her smile lingers, mine does too. But neither of us closes the distance, not yet.
Preparing to give out the marching orders, she reaches out and takes my hat off my head like she used to, without thinking, without asking.
For a second, I forget everything that went wrong between us.
Before she can dictate the list, her phone buzzes.
She pulls it out, and I can see the text message.
Phi
Hello, new roommate! Some unexpected evidence popped up in a case I’m working on. I won’t be there when you head over. The code is #1029. Make yourself at home!
“Alright, I have a few more things to do here, and then I will head over to Phi’s house.” She exhales before almost muttering to herself, “It’s only temporary, not home.”
I feel the sadness in her tone—the urge to return to her routine, to build her roots. I psyche myself up to ask something she may not be ready for.
“About that,” I say, unsure how she will take this idea. “I don’t want you moving into Phoenix’s. You have a lot going on, and you deserve to feel settled in your space. I want you to move back home.”
She freezes, eyes hardening, the playful atmosphere instantly leaving.
“Sam, things have been going well between us, but I am not ready to live with you again.”
Shit. She’s right. How do I make her see that I physically can’t take her security like that again, that I would rather tear my heart from my chest than make her feel so vulnerable again?
“I know, baby. As much as I wish that weren’t true, I get it. I was going to suggest that you move back home, and I will move out.”
“Oh,” she responds, surprised by my idea. “I don’t know, it’s your house, Sam. I wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“Becca, I am so sorry for what I said, and I wish I had re-negotiated that postnup. Not because I disagreed with you getting one, but I should never have made you feel that our house wasn’t ours; I should have made it clear and legal. I can barely stand to be there right now without you.”
I let her see the truth in my eyes before continuing. “If, God forbid, you wanted to get a divorce, there is no way I could keep staying there, no matter how many great memories I had growing up.”
I push through the pain of announcing my worst fear, trying to convince her to get back home.
“Please, you love that house. Go back home, relax in the clawfoot tub you found and demanded I install for you. Sleep in your sheets. Use your coffee maker. I’m begging you, if I know your home, I know I will sleep better at night.”
She pauses, staring at my face. I don’t rush her; this is a big step I am asking of her.
“I can’t move back as if nothing happened.”
She gathers her thoughts before continuing, “But … I can stay there. For now.”
I visibly exhale in relief. “Thank you, baby, you don’t know what this means to me.” I lean in and give her a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Where are you going to go?” she asks a question I knew was coming but don’t want to answer.
“I think I will head over to my grandparents’ place. I have uh … kind of been avoiding them since the summer kick-off party.”
She looks at me, confused, “Why? You love being around them.”
“I do,” I admit. “As much as I love and respect them, I also fear them.”
Becca lets out a surprised laugh. “It’s true!
My Grammy used to chase me around the kitchen with a wooden spoon if I stuck my finger in the cooking for a taste.
Or Grandad would give me the sternest look when he caught me doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
He rarely said anything, but that look terrified me. ”
She smiles but doesn’t let me off easy. “But Sam, that doesn’t explain why you haven’t seen them.”
“Baby, they love me, but they adore you. I am their grandson; it is a requirement that they care. But you? Both of them know, like I do, that you’re God’s gift to this earth. When I have to come clean to them about how I treated you, it’s going to be a nuclear winter type of situation.”
Something crosses Becca’s face. “Sam, I don’t want to cause problems in your family. I never have, and I feel like that’s all I ever do.” Her voice gets quieter as she finishes the sentence.
I can’t stand the devastation in her voice. “No, baby, don’t say that. It’s not you, it isn’t ever you.” I bring her in tightly for a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
“I should have talked to my family from the beginning, shut them down instead of ignoring them. I never cared about what they said; I was always too damn in love with you. But I should have realized their words and actions mattered to you. And that should have been my priority, how you felt, not just keeping the peace.”
I hold her, feeling her tears fall to the top of my shoulder, and wanting to rip my heart out, never to have them fall because of me again.
But at the same time, I’m so damn thankful for the privilege of holding her, hoping beyond hope I get to earn it back.
And as suddenly as it came on, she straightens her spine of steel and wipes her eyes.
“Sam, I know you are trying, I really do. It’s hard to let myself be back in that trusting place right now.”
I know where she is coming from, but it still breaks my heart to hear it.
“Well, I will get us there, one action at a time, I promise.”
She looks at me for a moment, and then, with a smile that could melt a glacier, says, “I’m starting to believe you.”
As much as I want to pull her into my arms, make her forget every ounce of distance between us and make her believe she is my priority through a sea of endless pleasure, I know that isn’t what we need right now.
“Okay, let’s finish this list and get you back home.”
It takes us another forty-five minutes to tackle a cleaning list a drill sergeant would have assigned.
The place is immaculate. I look over at Becca, her hair is pulled back in a messy bun with a dirt smudge on her face, hands on her hips, and she’s looking at the cabin, her dream, with the biggest smile.
The sun is setting in the background, a ray of light coming through the trees, lighting her face. I take out my phone and snap a picture, knowing I have never been so proud to have this gorgeous woman in my life. I stare at her until she looks back and asks.
“Okay, I guess it’s all ready, they will be here tomorrow.”
“It’s perfect, baby.” I kiss her on the top of the head, not talking about the cabin.
“Now, let’s get you home.” I close my eyes, relishing that statement. Even though I won’t be there with her longer than to grab my stuff, I know this is a step in the right direction.
I watch her walk toward her car, heading back toward the life I almost lost. And this time I’m not taking a single step for granted.