The Co-op

Chapter Forty-Seven

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

L A RYNN

After we reach our seventy-two-hour deadline and send our acceptance, Deacon and I drag a woven blanket and a bottle of our favorite cheap wine to the beach to watch the sunset.

He tucks my back against his chest, wraps me in the cradle of his hips. We sit quietly that way for a while, the back of my head resting in that spot where his collarbone meets his throat. And then he reaches up and tugs my beanie down over my eyes playfully.

“What’s on your mind, love?” His voice rumbles against my cheek before he presses his lips to it.

I readjust my hat. “I was just wondering what made you go with ‘love’? Is it just short for Lavigne?” I ask with a smirk.

He scratches his jaw against mine and I hum happily. “I just want to say it as much as possible. Want to say it enough times to make you forget the one time I didn’t.”

I squeeze his arms tighter around my body, try to contain this frothy feeling before I reach back to run my palm along his face. He turns and places a kiss against its center.

“What’s on your mind, love?” I ask him back. I feel him smile briefly into my skin.

“Something a little sad,” he admits.

I know it is. But maybe if he says it out loud, I can, too. I squeeze his hand while we stare out at a fiery sky together. “Tell me.”

He sighs. “I’m thinking about Nan and Cece. How I’m glad the house waited until they were gone to really fall apart. That I wish they could see it now.”

Something heavy catches beneath my sternum and my heart rolls in my chest.

“Do you ever worry it’ll be us that falls apart when we’re gone?” I whisper. He tilts my chin up to him and a tear slips down my temple with the motion. “Because I worry, Deacon,” I blubber. “I worry because I don’t understand how someone could ever feel the way I feel about you, could feel anything close to it, and end up so far from it like our parents did. I worry that we’re selling this house because of me, because of something I want, and one day this is going to wear off and you’re going to resent me for it.” More tears slide away.

“Never,” he says quietly, thumb drawing shapes against my cheek. “I mean I’ll never resent you for it. I don’t care if the whole café crashes and burns, which, I know it won’t.” He kisses me once. “And sure I worry. But then I remember that we’re not them. I know we’re not perfect…” He laughs and his eyes shine. “We might have bad tempers and some baggage, we’re probably way too self-indulgent, and even though for some reason I actually like it right now, no doubt that hair-in-the-shower thing will make me fucking crazy someday.” He kisses a tear away. “But look at us, LaRynn. We’ve had to do so much shit backward. We had to fall back in love while tackling a renovation and some demons. If we can do that, we can do anything.” He kisses the corners of my eyes again. “What if I told you I was scared I’d get lost in myself again? That I’m scared of changing, too. What would you say?”

My brows pinch together. “I’d find you,” I tell him, firmly. “And I don’t think there’s a version of you I couldn’t love.”

He lets out a wet laugh, shakes his head with a smile. “See?”

I kiss the thumb he slides against my lips. “And the house? You don’t think you’ll regret it?”

At that he looks back out over the water, like he’s searching for the right words. “I think I’ve become more… connected to the place, but I think that’s because it’s been ours. And, yeah, I wish we could hold on to it and still have everything. But it’s not just you who needs—or wants —the money. There’s plenty that it could do for me. And I think as far as the grands go… I think they’d be happy for us.”

And I don’t know why I can’t seem to stop blubbering, or why I’m grasping on to him so tightly and needing his reassurance, but I ask, “And you won’t hate me again someday?”

He frowns as he looks at my lips, my nose, my eyes. “Hate you? LaRynn, I never hated you. I don’t think I could have. You want to know what I hate?” He wipes at more of my tears. “I hate that I married you on some nothing Wednesday, in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. You deserve a Saturday, Rynn. You deserve the Friday night that leads into the entire Saturday, and the whole Sunday in bed after.” He sighs. “I hate that I’ve never danced with you on a proper dance floor, where everyone we love could see that you’re mine.” At that, I smile. “I wish I could say I hated that you wore black to our wedding, but the truth is, you ripped the air out of my lungs in that dress, too.” I breathe a laugh and his face sobers. “I hate that I did that to you when we were younger. I hate that we wasted any time not loving one another right. Hate that you thought I was anything less than gone for you. Because I’m so fucking gone for you, LaRynn. I’m so stupidly in love with you.”

I turn in his arms until I can face him fully, settle my knees outside his hips. “I hate that I did that to you when we were younger,” I say. “I hate when I have to spend my days waiting for my nights with you. Or my nights waiting for my days with you. And I’m so stupidly in love with you, too.” I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him. “I’m so gone for you that sometimes I want to tear this place apart just so we can do this all over again.” We laugh inside another kiss, our teeth bumping. “And even though I know you’d be devastating in a suit, I don’t care about a wedding. I’d rather have a kitchen floor.”

“I can do that,” he promises.