“It’s just hitting me,” I answer honestly. I’d never talk about this, but for some reason, the words rush off my tongue. “When I built this house, it was for friends and family. But other than my brothers, you’re the first visitor I’ve had.”
Her lips part. “Wasn’t Natalie?—”
“No.” Not for lack of an invite. I could figure out logistics, but she never did. “I always went there. She hasn’t been back since this was getting built. Haven and I flipped a house to help us with income until the renovations were done and the ranch was fully operational. I haven’t even been in this place three years. Haven and I are usually at Iverson’s, since that’s where the shop and everything is for the ranch. So we gather there, and I get to hang out with Kacey.”
“You wish it was different?”
“I feel like I’m borrowing someone’s happiness.” I can’t believe I said that. She’s going to think I’m pathetic, getting nothing but some frequent-flyer miles out of a four-year relationship.
“I know what you mean,” she says quietly. “This wedding is hard because it’s what I wanted, but also because it means it’s just going to take longer for me toget there. I want a family, but I also want my person. Someone who’s just for me.”
A cavern in my chest echoes her sentiment. I thought Natalie was that person, but my life is no different without her. “Do you feel like you wasted those years?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “I didn’t then. Now, it feels like it.” She rises and gathers our plates. “Stanford’s taken up too much of my thoughts lately. I’m going to clean up since you cooked.”
My kitchen is just off of the porch, but it feels like she’s running away. I grab our glasses and silverware and follow her inside. “Grilling is nothing. It’s a treat to do it for more than one person.”
“I appreciate it.” She loads my dishwasher and I hand her what’s in my arms. Straightening, she peers out the window over the sink that looks onto the deck. Her full lower lip sticks out. “Did you grab everything?”
“Yeah?” Why would that upset her?
“I was going to do it. Like I said, you cooked.”
“I don’t mind,” I say carefully as the crease between her brows deepens.
“Or you don’t think I’ll get back to the rest. I do... eventually.” She hip-checks the door closed.
“I believe it.” Most of the time, my house doesn’t feel lived in. Seeing signs of her doesn’t bother me, but she’s worried it will. Has someone made her feel bad about it?
Wasn’t I that guy? Holding her time blindness over her when she’s trying to do better—ignoring that there may be legitimate reasons for her tardiness. I’m not doing that to her again. It’s just a little clutter.
This thing between us is about helping us through tough times, but I can build her up too, just like she did forme with Rafting and Tasting. “So you need to believemewhen I say it’s fine. Is there something else bothering you?”
She barks out a laugh and heads out to the deck. “Until the wedding is over, that answer will always be yes. I have the cake tasting with Elodie on Wednesday. It’s going to be a whole spectacle. They want a cupcake tower, a cookie cascade, and then a five-tier cake—with each tier being a different flavor.” Throwing her hands up in the air, outrage furrows her brow. I want to smooth out the lines only because I know she’s bothered. “There aren’t going to be that many guests. Five tiers?”
“Each a different flavor,” I echo.
“I’m trying to give them realistic expectations. They think because Elodie runs a small bakery, she has nothing better to do but make cupcake towers and play with flavors. And because Elodie’s Elodie, she’s going to do it. It’s going to be the best, but I’m going to be so upset for her because the couple isn’t going to treat her like she deserves. They aren’t treating anyone like they deserve. And they get away with it!”
Her chest is rising and falling and color leeches up her neck. She weathers how the couple and their family treat her without complaint, but the way theymighttreat Elodie has her incensed.
I slide my hand around her neck. “They won’t walk all over Elodie. Know why?”
She gazes up at me with those wide gray eyes. I have her pinned between the table and me. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to talk circles around them until they feel like dumbasses for disagreeing. Just like you did with Chester. Like you did at the tasting room. You’re good at your job.”
“You mean that?”
I stroke my thumb up and down her neck, her warm, soft skin sliding under my touch. “You’re excellent at what you do, and you need to start calling them out on their bullshit instead of absorbing the blame.”
“I’m paid to tolerate their blame.”
“It’s not right.” I tip my head closer to hers.
“You’re in customer service.” Her voice drops lower. “You should know about pleasing the customer.”
“I don’t give a fuck about pleasing anyone.” I skim my lips over hers. “Just you.”
