Page 230 of The Reason I Married Him
Ryland pauses and glances at me. “What the fuck, she really said that?”
“Yup,” Wyatt answers with such pride.
“Why the hell does she not do that with us?” Ryland asks me. “She puts up such a fight every time she has to go to bed.”
“Because she knows she can walk all over you,” Wyatt says. “Not with me, her favorite.”
“Oh fuck off,” Ryland says as he takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. “And also, thanks for watching her.”
“Not a problem,” Wyatt answers. “She’s so much fun.”
“She is,” Ryland says as he lets out a long breath.
“You hungry?” Wyatt asks. “I can make you a peanut butter and jelly.”
Ryland waves his hand in dismissal. “No, they had food at school. I grabbed some stale-tasting pasta. I’m good.” He looksback and forth between us and asks, “What were you two talking about? Seemed serious when I walked in.”
“Housing,” Wyatt replies before I can tell Ryland it’s nothing.
“Oh yeah, I was thinking about that too,” Ryland says as he sits up now and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “With you two married now, I was thinking that maybe the guest house isn’t the best place for you.” He drags his hand over his cheek. “I’m thinking about moving Mac and me closer into town.”
“What?” I nearly shout. “You’re going to take her out of her house?”
“I don’t know,” he says, looking truly pained and confused over the thought. “I want to be closer to town. The travel is hard, especially since the school is on the other side of town, and with baseball practices and some late nights, it would be easier to be closer. Then there’s you two. What happens if or when you start a family of your own? You can’t possibly both stay in the guest house forever. You need more space, you deserve more space, and you’re not going to move when this is where you work.”
“But this is Mac’s home,” I say. “Plus, we’re still new. You never know what might happen.”
“Uh, what?” Wyatt asks, making me think about my words. “Thinking about divorce already?”
“No,” I say, realizing what I said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just . . .” I pause to take a deep breath before I say something else stupid. “We’re in this for Mac. And if that means I share a guest house with my husband, then so be it. I want her to be comfortable.”
“Don’t you think she might be comfortable with a new start?” Ryland asks. “I’ve thought about this for a while, Aubree, before you two even got married. It feels like Mac is just stuck, you know? She’s living her day-to-day, but I don’t know if she’s thriving. Sometimes I wonder if it’s too sad for her to be here.She doesn’t like going in my room. She told me it reminds her too much of her mom. She won’t go near the tire swing that Cassidy pushed her on all the time. She hates going to The Almond Store. I think too much surrounds her, reminding her of what she lost. I don’t want her to lose sight of Cassidy, but there’s something to think about when it comes to how Mac lost her mom. She watched her slowly get sicker and sicker every day. The most recent memories this house holds for Mac are of her mom passing. I don’t think it’s fair for her to have to live through that day in and day out.”
I lean against Wyatt as he drapes his arm over my shoulders. “I guess I never thought about it that way. I just assumed this was the only house she’s ever known so wouldn’t she want to stay here, but yeah . . . you might be right. There are things she won’t do that she used to do all the time.”
Ryland nods. “And there’s a Victorian house in town, across from the park on Bay Breeze Drive, that I’ve been looking at. Three bedrooms, two baths. Has a big backyard for a playhouse for Mac. It could be a fresh start for her, and we could move the things that bring Mac joy over to the new house. Things like the curtains and the pictures, some of the furniture.” He shrugs. “I think she needs it. I know she seems happy, but when I put her to sleep, I can see the sadness in her eyes, and I think that’s one of the reasons she gives me such a hard time when it comes to sleeping. I don’t think she wants to fall into a dream state. I think she’s always dreaming of Cassidy.” Ryland gets choked up, which, in return, constricts my throat. When he looks up at me again, eyes watery, he says, “Will you take the farmhouse, make it your own, and maybe make it a fun place for Mac to be again?”
When he asks like that . . .
“Yes,” I say, forgetting to even consult Wyatt. “Do you want to sell it to me?”
Ryland shakes his head. “I have plenty saved up from when I sold my house before moving here. I also have the life insurance policy from Cassidy and Clarke. There’s plenty to support Mac. I just want to make sure that this house that Cassidy loved so much will be taken care of.”
“It will,” I promise him. “I will be sure to bring joy back into it.”
“We promise,” Wyatt says, feeling the energy of the room and making me fall for him that much more.
“Thank you.” Ryland lets out a long breath. “Okay, fuck, that was heavy. I think I’m going to take a shower and get to bed. I’ll let you know how the house situation goes. I want to take Mac there and make sure she likes it first, feel her out, and see what she says. But thanks for this conversation. It’s been weighing on me.”
“Of course,” I say as I stand, and Wyatt stands as well. “Feel free to talk to us about anything. Don’t let it sit there.”
“I was waiting to get through the wedding. Don’t worry, I can’t hold that shit for too long. I need all the help I can get.” He looks between the two of us. “Hope you guys had a nice time down at the cabin.” He offers us a soft smile and takes off up the stairs.
I take that as our cue to leave as well, so we head out the front door and to the guest house, where Wyatt locks up, and we both get ready for bed in a comfortable silence. Occasionally, his hand runs over my back, along my hip, or across my shoulder blades. Light touches here and there to let me know he’s still here with me.
Once we’re settled, I slip into bed, he checks the door once more, and then slips in behind me. But now there is nothing tentative in the way he pulls me into his warm body.
“When are you going to stop putting the shirt on and come to bed naked?” he asks, his hand moving up my shirt.
