Page 46 of I'll Keep Her Safe

Iwake from a dream in which Bailey and I have a huge fight. Sweat soaks my sheets, and I shove them back, letting the cool rush of air sweep over me, my heart racing. It was unclear what we fought about, but it could be any number of things. Launching the business without her and lusting after her dad are two that come to mind.

I have to tell her.

Not about her dad, obviously. There’s zero reason to tell her that I think her father is easily the sexiest man I’ve ever met. That would be plain awkward for everyone.

No. I need to tell her about the business. She called a couple days ago to check in, and it was so good to hear her voice after radio silence for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to mention the business, so instead I made light chitchat about work at Joe’s and cooking for Wyatt.

That’s been a real highlight, actually. I’ve never felt particularly passionate about vegetables, but I’m inspired, creating new vegetarian dishes for me and Wyatt. I’m surprised to admit I hardly miss meat, which I haven’t touched since moving in. It wasn’t intentional, it just sort of… happened. Maybe it’s an unconscious act of solidarity with the man who’s putting a roof over my head, I don’t know, but it’s revived my love of cooking in ways I never could have predicted.

I think about Wyatt’s words from the other night, encouraging me to follow my passion with food, then quickly push them away. There’s no point in even entertaining the idea. I made my choice, and now I have my own business because of it. That’s pretty cool.

But I need to tell Bailey. The dream makes that clear.

I peel myself from the bed and shower, thinking about how best to approach it. Ideally, I’d want to tell her face to face, but there’s no way I can make that happen anytime soon, and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit with this. Besides, if she went to our website or social accounts, she’d see it for herself. And I really want her to hear it from me.

Downstairs, Wyatt is at the counter dressed in a work shirt and shorts, eating breakfast. I send him a smile as I pour my coffee and slide onto the stool beside him, trying to ignore the faint hint of his deodorant, the fresh scent of soap.

I wish I could eathimfor breakfast.

Jesus, Poppy, stop.

There’s a pile of papers on the counter and the one on top catches my eye. The header says National Society for Landscape Architects, and underneath it says,Dear Mr. Mathers, we are pleased to inform you that Mathers Landscaping has been selected as a finalist for the Urban Landscape Renewal Award…

I glance at Wyatt in surprise. “You’re winning an award?” I say, smiling. “That’s so cool.”

His gaze drifts to the letter and he shrugs. “I’m a finalist. It’s not a big deal.”

“Itisa big deal,” I insist, but again he just shrugs. I lean forward to read the rest of the letter. There’s an awards ceremony being held in Napa, California, this coming weekend. “Are you going?” I glance back at Wyatt and he shakes his head, rising from the counter. I frown. “Why not?”

“Work’s busy, you’re here…” he trails off, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“What, you don’t trust me enough to leave me home alone?” I tease, but he doesn’t smile.

“It’s not important,” he mutters, then heads out the door to work.

I stare after him. What does he mean, it’s not important? The awards show, or leaving me? Why doesn’t he want to do something that celebrates his work? Because being busy is an excuse, I’m sure. He’s spent the past two weekends at home with me; there’s no way he couldn’t spare a day or two to attend the awards.

Sugar mewls at my feet and I pour her food, thinking. Wyatt has spent so much of his life putting everyone else’s needs first. Maybe it’s time he did something for himself, for once. Let himself have something meaningful.

I read the letter more carefully, and an idea forms in my mind. Napa isn’t far from San Francisco. Maybe we could both fly across, so he could go to the awards ceremony and I could see Bailey to talk things through. If we could stay with her and Dean, I could probably cover the cost of our flights with the money I made from that marketing job. I want to do something to thank Wyatt for everything he’s doing for me, and this feels like the perfect way to spend that money.

I pick up my phone and dial Bailey. Even with the early hour and the time difference, she answers quickly, wide awake.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I have an idea.” I fill her in on the awards ceremony, leaving out the part where her dad said he didn’t actuallywantto go, and ask if she’s free this weekend.

Bailey thinks for a moment. “Actually, a client of mine has been offering me her place in Napa Valley. It’s this gorgeous Tuscan-style house with a pool and views of the vineyards. Maybe we could stay there.”

I suck in a breath. “Are you serious? That sounds divine.”

“I’ll check with her to see if this weekend works, then let you know. Okay?”

“Okay,” I echo, grinning.

We end the call and I eat breakfast, my stomach wobbling with anticipation as I wait for Bailey’s reply. On the walk to Joe’s, I check flight details, and find a few flights that would work, but I’ll need to act quickly before the prices go up.

Bailey calls back as I step into work. “Pack your swimsuit!” she squeals into the phone. “You’re coming to Napa!”

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