Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
Brayden
The day after it all happens, I get up. Kiss Asher, who’s asleep, hair mussed against the pillow.
He murmurs something close to leave me alone, B, then attempts to reel me back in.
Savannah’s side of the bed—third of the bed, and we should probably invest in a larger one if we’re going to do this long-term—is empty.
I change into my running gear then go find her.
She’s at the kitchen table. No, our kitchen table in our house.
The walls are still undecorated. Today, there’s a scatter of sunshine over the paint.
Good enough for now. Savannah is in shorts and a tank, hair up messily, Baby sitting on the table beside her as she jots things down in a notebook.
I come up behind Savannah, lean to kiss the soft skin of her neck. Inhale her scent. Roses. Maybe today I’ll arrange for a dozen—or a few dozen—to be delivered here. Funny, how wide the world feels after yesterday. I kiss Sav a few more times.
Then I notice the column of numbers in her notebook. Various amounts labeled Lexi and Forrest. “What’s this?”
“When I moved out, Lexi lent me some money, and my friend Forrest gave me a place to crash. I’m figuring out how much I owe each of them.”
The coffeemaker beeps that it’s ready. I pour myself a mug, dose it only with milk. I pour Sav a cup and bring her over her mug along with the sugar bowl and a spoon, then sit at the table next to her, gently stroking Baby’s fur. “Why did you need them to lend you money?”
She gives me an odd look. “I don’t have any money that’s not yours.”
I think back to when we first got married. Distantly, I think I set up some kind of debit card with regular transfers into an account, but it’s all pretty hazy. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were already giving me a place to live and paying my tuition and health insurance.” She studies her coffee cup.
“Of course I was doing those things. You’re my wife.”
“We weren’t really together.”
“Sav, I was with you from the second I said I do. Hell, before that. I was with you from the second I met you.”
She looks up at me, green eyes framed by dark lashes. “Oh.” A tiny exhalation passes her lips.
I have to kiss her, so I do, tasting coffee and sugar and whatever kind of lip gloss she uses. A flavor I know I’ll never be sick of. We’re still kissing when Asher comes in, wearing a pair of gray joggers and no shirt.
“Morning.” He pours a cup of coffee, dumps approximately a gallon of sugar into it. Sits at the table and grunts a good morning to Baby as she curls against his palm. “What’s this?” He taps Savannah’s notebook.
“I’m figuring out how to pay back a few people who took care of me when I left.”
Asher spins in his chair to face me. “She doesn’t have her own—”
“We were just getting to that.” I study the list. Small amounts, unless you don’t have it.
I realize I was controlling her for all those months and didn’t know it.
I add that to the list of things—the long list of things—to talk about at my first therapy appointment next week.
“How about an account? We’ll put a lump sum in there to start and then transfer more each month.
A credit card with whatever limit. And can we pay all your tuition up front? ”
Savannah smiles. “That’s a start.”
“Is the house in her name too?” Asher asks.
“No.”
“Well, fix that. How about the cars?”
“I’ll fix that too,” I say. “Anything else?”
He takes a sip of coffee like he’s really thinking about it. “Whatever the prenup was, change it so Sav gets half. No strings. No one should be trapped here because of money.”
I nod. This is about Sav but isn’t only about Sav. “How about you?”
Asher’s mouth tugs. “I have a car.”
“You’re part of this relationship too. You want your own room in the house? A million paintings? Whatever you want.”
“A million, really?” But he leans across the table and kisses me and then does the same with Savannah. “Maybe not a million paintings, but I can think of at least one picture we should hang up.”