Chapter 34
[Tate]
Neve and I exist in a bubble of our own making.
And any second, I expect that bubble to burst, because of what I’ve been holding back.
Something I desperately want to tell her but can never seem to find the right moment to share.
It isn’t just that Wren consumes us, it’s that Neve and I seem so steady, so happy, and I don’t want to do anything that will shatter what we have.
I don’t want to do anything to lose her.
Still, I need to be honest with her. I want to be honest, but I worry what it will do to what we’ve become to each other. Or what she’s become to me. Because after I share what I know, I want to share how I feel. It’s time to tell Neve how much I love her. How much I want a future with her.
With that thought in mind, I want to do something special, just for Neve and me, especially as we pass the three-week mark since Wren’s birth, and I need to return to New York soon for a few days.
I transitioned into remote mode, finding it more difficult than it’d previously been because Neve and Wren are here twenty-four seven.
Which is exactly where I want them to be.
Every year for Sweetest Day, Over the Hill Farm hosts a barn dance.
Neve doesn’t want to attend, arguing the holiday was contrived by a greeting card company and has no meaning. She also isn’t ready for a babysitter, especially as she’s still nursing, and I don’t blame her. I don’t want to hand Wren over to anyone either.
Even though I want to give us a night out, give us a parent break, I don’t want to share Neve either.
I want her to myself.
So, I tell her to take a long shower and change into something comfortable. Maybe one of my flannel shirts. Maybe a fun dress.
“Do I look like I wear dresses?” she grouses.
Okay, wrong suggestion. I just want her to put on something that makes her feel pretty. But I admit the truth, “You could wear a potato sack, baby, and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there is.”
The touch of pink in her cheeks says I’m forgiven for the dress suggestion.
“Scoot,” I tease, slapping her ass and nodding toward the staircase.
I need an hour to set things up, and once she’s upstairs, I send a text telling her not to come down until I call her. I’m not exactly certain if my plan will work. Wren is temperamental in the evenings, but I’m still hoping for an hour with my other girl.
Just us.
Once I’m ready, I give Wren a bottle and get lucky that she passes out. I set her in the portable crib we keep in the living room, ensuring we’ll be able to see her from the porch. Then I call Neve and tell her to come downstairs.
To my surprise, Neve is wearing a dress of sorts. She has on another one of my flannel shirts, cinching it with one of my belts at her waist. She isn’t wearing leggings. Instead, she has on a pair of combat boots.
“Rosie,” I whisper, because the outfit looks tough, which is fitting for Neve, and takes my breath away. “You’re so fucking hot.”
She laughs and pulls out the sides of my shirt. “This old thing.” She tips up her shoulder and bats her eyes at me over it.
Unable to stop myself, I pull her to me, cup her jaw, and kiss her. Per doctor’s orders, we haven’t been intimate in weeks, and we don’t need to be. I want her to heal, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss kissing her.
We’ve only shared a few kisses in the chaos of the past few weeks. In rare moments, snuggling on the couch or curled near one another in bed.
I’m hoping tonight brings back that spark between us.
“So I have a special night planned for us, but no pressure. We just see how it goes.” I nod toward the portable crib where Wren sleeps.
“Okay,” Neve says, looking up at me in this way she’s been doing for weeks.
Like she’s puzzled that I’m here. Like she’s grateful for it at the same time. But I sense a thin veneer between us, as if she’s waiting for everything to shatter.
My plan is to reassure her it won’t. We are unbreakable.
I take her hand and lead her to the porch, which is currently dark. The afternoon was warm. A rare, final day of heat before autumn settles in permanently.
As we step outside, I flick a switch.
The porch is illuminated with small Edison bulbs dangling from the ceiling. The romantic cast glows over the massive number of pumpkins I’ve laid around the edge of the porch, along with a haybale or two, and a sprinkle of hay across the deck floor.
“What’s this?” Neve slowly twirls in wonder, her upturned face soft in the warm light.
“I brought the barn dance to us.”
She lowers her head and meets my eyes. Her smile is so large, her dimples pop. “That’s so . . . romantic.” She sighs, like she truly can’t believe it. Like the porch is suddenly magical, which was what I was hoping for.
“May I have this dance?” I hold out my hand, and Neve laughs, setting her palm against mine.
“There isn’t any music.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and click the playlist I already pulled up. So we don’t disturb Wren, the volume is low in the overhead speakers.
“Elvis?” Neve arches her brow as I pull her to my chest and rest our collected hands over my heart. My other hand wraps around her lower back, keeping her close.
“Can’t Help Falling In Love” croons through the speakers. The song feels appropriate.
“We might have rushed to a finish line, Neve, but I’m so glad I’m here, with you.”
If her cheeks blush, I can’t tell in the low light, but she ducks her head a second, shaking it, before looking up at me, those blue eyes bright. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”
Her voice is as soft as her words, and I lean forward to kiss her again. This one lasts a little longer than the earlier one in the house. I cup her jaw with both hands, momentarily pausing our dance, and take my time to rediscover her lips and softly sip her tongue.
She kisses me back just as tenderly before pulling away. Her eyes gleam, and she chews at her lower lip, almost shy.
“So, Elvis? How did I not know this about you?” she asks, sliding her hands down my arms and then back up over my shoulders.
“There are lots of things we still don’t know about each other, Neve. But I want to know them. I want to know everything there is about you.”
She drops her gaze a second, but I tip up her chin with the edge of my hand, wanting her eyes on me.
“No one has ever wanted that before.” She licks her lips. “And I want the same thing.” Her brows pinch like she’s confused by the desire. Then, her brows straighten. “I want to know it all as well.”
I smile and tip my forehead against hers. “Neve, I want you to stay here. I want you to move in.”
She pulls her head back. “But my house . . .” she says quietly.
“You can keep it. Rent it. Or sell it. That land is worth a fortune.”
Neve chuckles. “Always thinking about real estate.”
“But I’m not. I’m thinking about us. About Wren. I want us together. The three of us.” Like a family. “But mainly, I want the two of us. I want more time to learn your smiles and your quirks.”
She gives me a playful scowl. “I don’t have quirks.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re perfect.” I chuckle and kiss her cheek. “And I want to learn all your perfections.”
She smiles wider.
But I sober a little bit. “It isn’t always going to be perfect, Neve. But I want to give us a real shot. Live together. Learn together.” Fall in love.
Although I’ve already fallen.
“Down the well one went, a true love you’ll never forget.”
I won’t forget Neve because she’s right here, in my arms. In our home.
“Let me think about it,” she says, quietly. Not dismissing the idea but being practical about it. “I’d like that, but I need to think about my house.”
“Of course. Maybe when I return from New York?” Maybe we can figure out the logistics then.
She nods, but her eyes lose a bit of their luster.
“Speaking of New York, I’m up for a promotion.”
Neve stops moving, but I keep my hands on her hips to keep her close. “I want you to know, I’m turning it down.”
“What? Why?” she whispers, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Because I want to be here. With you and Wren.”
Her hands slide down my chest. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m telling you, you’re my choice. I want to be here.” I love Lovewell Landing. I always have, and being back here feels like the right decision for me. The right place for me to be.
“Tate, I don’t want you to do that.” She leans back like she wants to pull away, but I won’t let her go.
“Why not?”
“I—” Whatever she wants to say catches in her throat. Or maybe she doesn’t have an answer. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way I do.
“I want you, Neve. I care about you. I adore you.” I love you. “And I want us to work.”
“Because of Wren?” she questions.
“Because of us. Because of you.” I run my fingers along the edge of her face. “I love how you love pumpkin spice things.”
“You hate pumpkin spice,” she counters.
“And I love how you want to disagree with me but then give in.”
She fights a smile.
“I love how you kiss me, and how you look at me.”
“How do I look at you?” Her scowl is back, like she’s truly concerned.
Like you love me, too. But I won’t put words in her mouth.
“Like you like how I kiss you. Like you like how I look at you, too.”
Her mouth softens. Her eyes, too. She relaxes against me.
“I love how you always get a scowl on your face when I ask if I can take you somewhere.” I run my fingertip over her forehead. “And how you hog the covers but then snuggle into me at night.”
She shakes her head. Her hair bobs against her cheeks.
“And how you love cheesy Halloween movies.”
“The cheesiest,” she mutters.
“The sweetest,” I smile. “You’re fun, Neve.” I tip a brow, waiting for her argument. “You’re different. You’re good for me.”
She grimaces. “Different normally means bad.”
“Not in this case,” I state, running my fingers around her face again and then cupping her jaw. “Different means perfect.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” she teases, the joke more of a defense.
So I kiss her to seal my thoughts, confirm my emotions.
I want her with a desire that burns. A flicker I don’t want to extinguish but to blaze like a permanent flame that warms this house with her laughter and smile, and heats our bed with our combined passion. Neve and I can be fire together.
“Think about it, Neve. Really consider it.”
“I will,” she says, like she did the day we discussed the old firehouse.
Then she kisses me.