Chapter 26Can we keep this between us?
TWENTY-SIX
Can we keep this between us?
Trace
“Open up,” Deuce hollers, throwing his fist into my door over and over.
Stumbling out of bed, I grip the wall as I traipse down the hall, my head killing me, my mouth full of cotton. Yanking open the door, I bring my arm over my face, blocking out the egregious morning sun. “Jesus Christ, man, is the house on fire?”
“Why aren’t you answering the phone?” he questions, peering around me into the house. Opening the door, I let him in and close it, still waking up.
“Because I was asleep.” I motion to my fucked-up hair and near-naked body.
He looks at his watch. “It’s ten a.m.”
I rub my eyes. A painful whomp radiates through my head. “I was up late.”
Leaning in, he studies me. And it takes me a moment before I realize what he’s doing.
I shove him back, more awake now that I understand. “Fuck off, I’m not hungover.”
He studies me another moment, his dark eyes roving over me like a parent to a child. Finally, his shoulders sink and he huffs out a deep breath. “Thank God.”
“You really thought I’d go back to all that shit?” I ask, moving around him to get to the kitchen. Rinsing the carafe, I fill it with water and pour it into my Mr. Coffee. I like this coffee maker. It’s simple, makes 12 cups, nothing fancy. Ivy got it for me. And when she sleeps over, we have enough for both of us. I got her protein powder, too.
“I don’t know, you asked for the day off today and Ivy didn’t sleep over last night. Those two things…” he trails off with a shrug. “I’m just making sure.”
I scoop out some grounds and dump them in the basket, slapping the lid closed. “Okay,” I say, considering his words. A breath in through my nose and out my mouth, another one, and I meet his gaze. “I can see where you may have thought that.”
Deuce’s head swivels back, his eyes wide, a real dumb look on his face. “Wow. You’re not gonna be butthurt for an hour because I dared to check on you.” He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You better marry her.”
I don’t respond to that, because I’m still working things out in my head when it comes to Ivy and marriage. Instead, I tell him exactly why I’m home on a workday, why my beautiful girlfriend slept at her place when she’s basically been living with me for the last few weeks, and why my head is killing me.
“I lied to her and told her I didn’t feel good—told her I didn’t want to get her sick since Dolly’s pregnant and she’s around her so much. So that’s why Ivy didn’t sleep over. She thinks I’m sick.” The coffee’s slow drip makes my skin tingle. Fuck, I need caffeine.
“And… you’re not sick?” He narrows his eyes. “You look kinda shitty.”
“That’s just what I look like, asshole,” I reply, getting out two pieces of bread from the box on the counter. Ivy said I needed a bread box to keep things off the counter, but to keep my bread fresh. It doesn't make sense to me because the bread box sits on the counter, but I got one anyway. I’d get a fucking bread box tattooed on my cock if she told me. “But no, I’m not sick. I stayed up all fucking night planning a party and because I’ve never planned a party, it was a lot harder than I thought.”
“Dude, my brother-in-law hosts the town farmers market every week. He’s great at planning shit. You coulda called me.” He sinks into the couch, stacking his boots on my coffee table. “What party you plannin’?”
A smile curls my lips as I dig Juni’s jam and butter from the fridge. “Well, Ivy’s last day as the shop apprentice is next week. And I thought we’d have, like… I don’t know, a graduation-style party? But just for her, for ending the program.”
Deuce just stares at me. I stare back.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know. You’re so different.” He smiles in a way that tells me I’m about to get annoyed. “I was right about you coming here. Admit it.”
I roll my eyes. “Does Ev never compliment you or what? You gotta come over here and get me to make you feel good?” The toast pops up, and I snatch it, laying the pieces across a plate.
A real plate, not a paper one.
Ivy is to thank for that too. Well, Ivy and Amazon.
“I’m guessing the party is a surprise,” Deuce says.
“Yeah,” I agree, slathering the jam on thick as my stomach rumbles. “And I guess it’s a good thing you did your compliment crawl because I wanted to ask if we could have it at Ink Time.”
Deuce nods. “Course we can,” he agrees easily.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I smear butter over the jam. Yeah, that’s the order. “There’s something else.” I look up and find his eyes on me.
“What?”
“I want to buy this place from you.”
He snorts. “You know you could buy a better place. Or build your own place.”
I roll my eyes, and I get why Ivy does it so much. Sometimes an eye roll covers what words don’t. “I know that. But…” I trail, summoning the man courage to say feely things to another man. “This is the place where I got better and figured out what I want, and who I want that with,” I admit, my voice rough. “And I know you and Ev bought it as a fixer-upper investment but I’m willing to buy you out, and buy you guys any other property in Bluebell.”
“We’d be neighbors. Can you be my neighbor?” Deuce asks, a grin teasing his lips.
“I don’t know. Will you be over here begging for compliments all the time?” I prod.
“A few days a week, max,” he says. He gets up from the couch with a grunt. “Let me talk to Ev, all right?”
I nod. “Yeah, and the party, can we keep this between us?”
He salutes me. “You thinking Friday for the party?”
Pouring my cup of coffee, I agree, telling him more of the plans. “Yes, and I have a bunch of black balloons, black crepe streamers, you know, a ton of gothic party shit being delivered here in a day. After I figured out I wanted to do a gothic theme, I drew up a little design for her, and I’m gonna have that printed onto a banner today to hang in the entry of the shop.”
“Show me,” Deuce says, reaching past me to swipe a mug, “and fill it.”
I pour him a cup then shuffle down the hall, sipping the much-needed caffeine, grabbing my sketch book. Flipping it open, I show him the design. “It’s kinda stupid, the play on words. But I couldn’t bring myself to do a dumb congratulations sign, you know?”
We look down at the sketch taking up the page. The words Ivy Inks are written in gothic print, the knife in her boot replicated through the I in Ivy and Inks . “It’s gonna be black and white, with this here being a spot of red,” I say, pointing to the little drop of blood dripping off the end of the blade on the knife that makes up her name.
“She’s gonna love it,” Deuce finally says, and I release my breath, relieved he approves. I’ve never planned anything for anyone, so around three in the morning I questioned if all of this was stupid or not. Deuce knows Ivy, irritatingly it can be argued he may know her better than me in some ways, so if he says it’s good, I’m on the right track.
I clap my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Glad to hear you say that because after six hours into this I was worried it may be… I don’t know… too much.”
He laughs. “Proposing on the first date is too much. Throwing a party to celebrate your girlfriend’s hard work and accomplishments is not too much.”
I nod, taking a bite of my toast as I stare at my sketch.
“She’s gonna know, though,” he says, finishing his coffee.
“Know what?” I say around a bite of toast.
“That you’re in love.”
“You’re right,” I reply, “she’ll definitely know the next day, because I’m going to tell her.”
“Don’t wanna tell her that night? I mean, hell, she’s gonna see the work you put into this and know, man.”
I take another bite and talk with my mouth full because it’s Deuce, and I ain’t wasting manners on him. “Na, that night is about her. Celebrating finishing the program. Not about how I feel about her. It can wait until the next morning.” I bend down and pull from the cupboard another Amazon buy.
“You’re telling her with that?” Deuce says, chuckling.
I look at the heart-shaped waffle maker. “Yeah, asshole, I am. Because it’s cute .” I take another bite of toast. “And I’m making the batter black.”
Deuce laughs. “That’s better.”
We make some more small talk and work out a few details for the party, and Deuce finally heads out. I send Ivy a text, telling her I’m all better, but it’s probably best if we spend the weekend apart.
I hate it. I want more than anything to see my girl. But I need to get to the printer in Oakcreek to get the banner done, and pick up some silk black roses from the flower shop, too.
I can’t wait to celebrate her. To see the look on her face when a room of people she loves cheers on all that she’s done.
She deserves the best night ever, and I’m going to give it to her.