Page 10 of Sweet Beloved

DEACON

I can tell something’s up with Freya. We’ve been together long enough that I feel the fine tuning of her emotions the minute she walks through the door.

Slate picked her up, and he goes down the hall and takes his boots off. Freya walks in, setting a yellow envelope on the table. I come up behind her, kissing the back of her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of my wife. She bakes all day and comes back smelling like pastry. I love it, but she says sometimes, she wishes she could smell like nice perfume, anything but vanilla for once. I think she smells just like my home.

“You hungry? Ginny made chicken. It’s in the oven,” I say.

She nods, turning to give me a kiss. When she pulls back, her face is sober.

“You alright, sweetheart?” I press.

Slipping a hand behind her back, she picks up the envelope and takes out a few sheets of cream paper.

“Tracy wants to give me the café,” she whispers.

Speechless, I take the paper and flip it over. Sure enough, it’s a copy of the paperwork for the transfer of the deed. At thebottom, the amount owed is one dollar. The corner of my mouth turns up. Tracy is a good woman. She has always been a good boss and a steadfast friend to my wife. She took a chance on Freya when nobody else did, and for that, I’ll always be grateful to her.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” I say. “This is…big.”

Her eyes are perfectly round. “I don’t know…if I can do this.”

“You’ve been managing the café for years,” I point out, sliding the paperwork away. I take her by the waist, lifting her on the table. She’s chewing the inside of her lip, brows creased. “I’ll be here to help. I know a thing or two about running a business.”

Her shoulders sink, and she gives me a weak smile. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know why she chose me.”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” I say. “You love that café and you’re good at what you do. Tracy’s trusting you with her baby because she knows you’ll take good care of it.”

Her hand comes up, cradling my face. “You’re too good to me,” she whispers.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be too good to you.”

She bends in, and I kiss her, real slow and thorough, the way I did the very first time all those years ago, under the northern lights over Ryder Ranch. The day I married her, I promised myself I’d never take this woman for granted. I’ll treat her good, kiss her and fuck her like it’s the first time until the day I die. It’s the least I can do after everything she’s done for me, after everything I put her through.

The back door opens, and I hear Red and Remington crash down the hall. They start fighting over who’s putting their boots where. Then, Red swings around the corner, making a disgusted face.

“Ew, gross, they’re kissing,” he announces.

Remington makes a choking sound and collapses against the wall like he’s sick. I pull back and take a playful swipeat them, grabbing them in each arm. They start giggling, wrestling against me. Freya gives me a don’t-get-rowdy-in-my-kitchen look. Alright, time to get out. I pick them up and toss them unceremoniously onto the living room couch. They launch themselves at me, and we end up tousling on the living room floor.

I’m out of breath—maybe a little too old to be roughhousing like this—when Freya calls for me to lift the chicken from the oven.

“Go on, get cleaned up,” I tell them.

“After dinner, can I smoke a cigarette?” says Red.

“Fuck, no, you can’t,” I say.

Freya leans into the hall, brows raised. “Language.”

Red crossed his arms. “I saw you smoking outside last night with Slate. How come Slate can smoke and not me?”

“Because you’re not seventeen,” I say. “And when you do as much work as Slate does around this ranch, you can have the privileges he does. Now, go on. Get.”

I take another swipe at them and they run, pell-mell, up the stairs, arguing the entire time. Then, the water starts running. I assume there will be some washing up, although I have my money on more water getting on the floor than their hands.

In the kitchen, Freya has dinner on the table. After we got married, I told her to buy the things she wanted for the kitchen. Ginny said thank goodness, we can get rid of those bachelor dishes after almost twenty years. She and Freya went into the city and came back with the truck full of cookware, dishes, furniture, and the like. In a few days, they had the kitchen looking a lot brighter, more floral. I don’t care, so long as she’s getting what she wants.

Now, I watch her, even more beautiful than when I met her, put the food in her beloved blue patterned bowls. She handlesthem with the same care she puts into everything, the same care she offers her family.

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