Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Declan
Evie returns to work Friday. I’m relieved to have her here, and even more relieved she’s feeling well enough to be here. She tried to say she could work yesterday, but I convinced her she could take the day to rest while conscious and that it was okay to miss.
She hates missing work, and though from what she’s said, she loves the job, I think she’s also used to worrying about money. Again, we haven’t really talked about my money, but since we didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement, it’s her money now, too.
Work wipes her out enough that she manages to stay up until Charlie’s bedtime, but she passes out soon after. Yet again, we don’t make it to family dinner, but no one expected us this week. My mother’s only requirement, if Evie is up to it, is letting her watch Charlie so Evie and I can go out.
I promise her I’ll talk to Evie in the morning, and when I do, Evie acquiesces. I wish I could say she gleefully accepts, but I worry she’s doing it for the optics. At this point, after what my mother said and even how Finn has hinted, I suspect everyone knows we married for the custody battle.
As she sips her coffee and Charlie plays on the living room floor, I try a suggestion.
“What if we go out to lunch? Does that sound any better?”
She visibly perks up at this. “Would that work for your folks?”
She’s so completely hopeful, I decide we’ll make this work or we don’t do it. “I’m sure it will.”
And sure enough, two hours later, we’re delivering Charlie to my parents’ house.
Since they won’t need to deal with bedtime, he’ll be here instead of my parents coming to our house.
Charlie’s excited, if a little shy at first, and when we drive away from the ranch house where my parents and Charlie stand and wave at us, I have the oddest feeling.
It’s this vision of the future, but like I’m living it now. Maybe it’s thanks to the dreamlike quality shimmering at the edges of every minute since I’ve married Evie.
“Where do you want to go?” She’s bouncing her knee and her hands are tucked tight around her.
“If it’s alright with you, I thought we’d go to Farm Comfort. It’s only open weekends for lunch so I thought maybe you haven’t had a chance to go.”
She’s beaming. “I haven’t been! That’s perfect.” She slumps back in her seat. “I’m sorry if I seemed unenthusiastic about dinner. I’m still so tired and I could really use some time to veg out and relax before we dive into the week.”
“Of course. Please take Monday off if you need to, or more. I want you rested and fully healthy before you work any more.”
She’s silent for a beat, so I glance over at her to see her focus on her hands in her lap. She’s working up to something, and though I can’t guess what it is, I brace for it.
“I appreciate you saying that, but I need to work. I need the paycheck.”
“You’re a salaried employee, aren’t you?” I could swear everyone at the clinic is.
She huffs. “Yes. But that’s not the point. I can’t just sit around and not work. I’m not lazy.”
The tone, even the words, sound like they’ve come from someone else.
I bet I can guess who. I don’t point it out.
Instead, I grit my teeth and vow to do everything in my power to erase those kinds of thoughts from her head and treat her with so much respect and care, she’ll demand it from anyone in the future.
Even if her being with anyone else makes me vaguely ill with just the thought.
I wait until I pull into the parking lot at Farm Comfort, then shut off the engine and turn to her.
“I have never once thought you were lazy, and I certainly wouldn’t think that of you if you needed a few days off after being sick for nearly a week.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, then back down to her hands. “Thank you. A low-key Saturday night and Sunday should be fine.”
There’s more to say here, but I can see well enough that she’s not exactly up for me pushing. I’m nowhere near as pushy as almost anyone else in my family, but as I exit the car and jog around to open her door, I give in to my natural instincts.
She stands, but instead of moving out of her way, I stay planted between the car door and the body of the vehicle, effectively caging her in. She’s got space from me, but she can’t get past without pushing.
“I need you to understand something.” My voice comes out low, almost rough.
Her lovely blue eyes are steady on mine. “Okay.”
“I have quite a bit of money, and as my wife, it’s our money. You can—”
“Absolutely not. I’m not taking your money.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about taking. My point is, you have a big safety net. I’m not going to allow anything to happen to you or Charlie. I promise you.”
I can’t allow anything bad to happen to them.
I won’t. I’ll fight with every last shred of money and connection I have to make sure she and her son are not only provided for, but have everything they’ve ever wanted.
It’s what’s right, what they deserve, and nothing less than the very beginning of what I want to do for them.
She exhales, then lifts her hand and presses it over my heart. In response, my heart rate doubles, then triples when she gives me a soft smile.
“Thank you, Declan. But you can’t promise that.”
I cover her hand with mine. “Maybe I can’t promise it, but what I can do is tell you I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re both cared for. I understand this is messy, and uncomfortable, and so I propose that right now, we shove all that aside and go enjoy lunch.”
Her smile grows. “That sounds perfect.”
I release her and step out of the way, shutting the door once she’s cleared it. Then, without thinking, I take her hand and knit our fingers together.
It’s new for us, but it feels right.
“Good thinking. I didn’t realize Gerald Wakefield and Artie McClain were watching us.” She waves at the two men who happen to be two of the biggest gossips in town.
“Right.” I say this as though I took her hand in a strategic move and not because I wanted to.
The familiar combination of longing and disappointment hits me.
I’m glad to be here with her, holding her hand.
Part of me hates that the privilege of clasping her hand in mine is something she sees as an obligation or a ruse.
It’s one more element I signed up for—I knew this would happen, didn’t I? I opted in for it.
The other, larger part, is evidently willing to take what he can get.
We cross the small parking lot and enter the building, literally an old farmhouse that’s been refurbished into what is almost fine dining.
Certainly as close as we get in Juniper View, though there’s no fussiness about it.
It’s relaxed, yet the tables are covered with white cloths and the rustic backdrop creates a genuinely pleasing setting I hope Evie will enjoy.
I’ve never been a man who cares much about a restaurant’s atmosphere. Most of the time, I prefer cooking and eating at home. But I’m oddly satisfied when I see Evie’s grin and hear her say, “Oh my gosh, it’s so perfect in here.”
I have nothing to do with the perfection of this place, but I feel proud to be the person who’s with her when she sees it. It’s a silly, completely useless thought, and yet, there it is.
We’re seated in an intimate little booth on the side in what must’ve been a horse stall at one point. Soft bright yellow cushions adorn the wooden bench seats, and the accents throughout the place are lime green and lemon yellow. It’s charming and fresh at once.
“I’m so happy I have an appetite again,” Evie says while reading the menu.
“I am, too.”
Soon enough, our waiter arrives and takes our drink order. He brings out a small amuse-bouche that’s something to do with a squash blossom, but I missed the rest of it. We inspect the tiny bite, then both eat it in one go.
Her eyes widen, then close softly. Her mouth moves as she chews, her throat works when she swallows, and all the blood rushes from my head.
During the week she’s been sick, I’ve forgotten just how stunningly beautiful she is when I allow myself to notice and not think of her as a patient, and how easily my insipid brain slips from reality into a fantasy world. It’s happening now simply watching her chew this one bite.
In the fantasy, I feel her swallow because my lips are pressed against her neck. Her hum of pleasure reverberates through me because I’ve just feasted on the moment with her, not simply in observation.
“That was delicious.” She pats the side of her smile with the corner of a cloth napkin.
“Delicious,” I parrot. Declare. Nearly moan.
Good grief, man! Get ahold of yourself!
I clear my throat and try to regain my tether on reality. “I mean yes, it was quite delicious. I have never cooked with squash blossom.”
“You like to cook though, right? When you made me dinner before the wedding, you said you were decent. I think it’s time you confess.” She raises one brow.
“What am I confessing?”
She doesn’t really want to know how many confessions have built up on my tongue in the last year, the last month, the last week, the last thirty seconds.
“That you’re an amazing chef.”
The look she’s giving me is one so full of affection and a little teasing, it flips my stomach.
“Not a chef. Maybe cook.” I shift around, not sure I know how to take this compliment. “I started cooking as a creative outlet and out of necessity since sometimes I’d leave work so late, no restaurants would be open and I got sick of cafeteria food.”
“What are your favorite things to make?”
“I’m not all that creative. I just find recipes. The Times has a good cooking section, and I really like this one blogger who I’ve heard is actually local.”
“Really? Local to Juniper View?”
“That’s the rumor. It may be just hearsay, but she’s definitely somewhere in the mountains based on her social media. Hasn’t been doing many recipes lately but lots of nature photos.”
Evie grins. “You are on social media?”
“Not much. Only for the recipes, and to see what my family posts.”
“Ah, yeah. That makes sense. I don’t post, but I do like to scroll.”
The waiter brings our plates and we both dive in. Her intense delight in the food is satisfying to me, and I’ll admit my dish is incredible.
“It’s so simple, but so, so good.”
“Thanks for coming by, you two.” Cole Palmer grins down at us, having materialized out of absolutely nowhere.
“Cole. Good to see you. This place is great.” I rise and offer him a hand, which he takes.
Evie starts to rise, but he waves her off. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just haven’t seen this guy in years.” He pats my shoulder.
I suppose I have known him most of my life. He’s a few years older, but it’s a small town, after all.
“This is Evie, my—my wife.” My eyes meet hers and she smiles. Hopefully, she doesn’t see the slight tinge of a blush at my cheeks.
Cole’s eyes slide to Evie and he bows to her. “Lovely to meet you, and congratulations.”
“The food is wonderful. I’ll be telling everyone about it!” Evie grins at him and he returns the smile because it’s impossible not to smile when she does. It’s catching.
Doesn’t mean I love this guy smiling at my wife.
“Thank you. Word of mouth is one of the most powerful forms of marketing, and you can’t make it up.” He knocks on the table twice, then smiles once more. “Tell the family hello. And tell Eirinn I’d love to see her in here sometime.”
My gaze narrows, but he’s already moving on to the next table. There’s something about the sparkle in his eye or that ridiculous smile of his that makes his words settle on me oddly.
“Eirinn? Did they used to date?” Evie’s gaze follows Cole with curiosity.
“She and Davis have been together as long as I remember, but maybe they did in high school or something? I’m not sure.
He left for culinary school around the time she and Davis headed for college.
” The whole thing was a bit forward for my taste, though I can’t say why.
He only said he’d want to see her. It could’ve simply been that they were old friends.
“Kind of bold of him, but maybe I’m being a little prim. Maybe it was friendly.” She shifts her focus back to the food in front of her. “But the man can cook.”
“That he can.” It may or may not sound a touch begrudging.
Her eyes snap to mine and her lips press together. “Fortunately, I married a guy who’s a great cook, too.”
A pent-up laugh escapes me—clearly, I’m caught. “I was sounding a little jealous. Forgive me.”
Her feet slide over to mine and press in on both sides in the oddest, most endearing form of reassurance I’ve ever experienced. “Trust me, Dr. Ryan. You’ve got zero competition from him.”
A flame ignites in my chest. “No?”
Her bright eyes hold mine as she slowly shakes her head. “Not even a little bit.”