by Juliette Poe
CHAPTER 27
Larkin
Juggling my keys, purse, the mail, and two bags of groceries, I manage to make it into my house without dropping anything. I’m relieved Deacon’s bike is gone, as I want supper to be a surprise. I wasn’t able to leave early enough so we could get some fishing in, but I’m proud I left with sufficient time I could beat him home so I could cook a surprise meal for him tonight.
Proud because I just don’t leave work early. It goes against my principles. I own the bakery, so I should be the first person in and the last person out.
Upon further reflection, I realize that might not be an actual principle so much as something I’d just let become habit since I didn’t have a life. There hadn’t been anything better to do than work, even though I knew I had valuable employees who could handle everything in my absence.
But habits are hard to break, so I’m still proud of myself. Deacon has no clue since I’d texted him earlier today that I couldn’t go fishing, and surprising a man with a good meal is something I find to be romantic.
I hope he does too.
I’ve cooked dinner for Deacon before, so that isn’t what’s got me excited. Heck… he’s cooked dinner for me too. But on our trip to Idaho, his stepmom told me that his favorite meal is chicken potpie, which is not exactly an expedient meal to make if done right.
Admittedly, I’m not the best cook, but my mom makes a killer chicken potpie so I got the recipe from her. Hit the grocery and got all the necessary ingredients. Made it home by four.
Deacon is off doing whatever it is he does during the day. Lately, it’s been working over at Chesty’s helping Pap with some repairs, but I think he’s wrapping that up today.
I deposit everything on the table, reaching into the grocery bag to pull out the bottle of wine I’d purchased, along with a six pack of beer. I put those in the fridge, but I leave the full bags on the table since I’ll be starting dinner soon.
I come home every evening with what feels like a crusting of flour and sugar all over me. After a quick shower and a change into comfortable clothes, I’ll be ready to start dinner.
As soon as I cross the threshold to my bedroom, I can feel something is off. I glance around but can’t seem to identify my feeling of unease, so I walk slowly to my closet for a change of clothes.
Everything seems to be in its right spot. I grab a T-shirt from a hanger, exit the closet, and shut the door. Turning, I start for the dresser to grab a pair of leggings when it hits me.
I stop, hesitatingly eyeing the corner of my room.
Deacon’s duffel is gone.
There’s a slight cramp in the center of my chest. I pivot toward the bathroom, almost sprinting into it.
His toiletry bag is gone too. He always repacked it after his shower routine, but he’d been leaving it sitting on the counter rather than putting it back in his duffel.
And that’s when I know.
He’s gone.
Dropping my clothes, I return to the kitchen and rummage in my purse. I pull out my phone, unlock the screen, and check my texts, but there’s nothing from him.
No good-bye message.
No explanations.
I search the entire house for a note, then repeat the whole thing after I don’t find one.
But there’s still nothing.
The tiny pinch of pain in my chest blooms, spreads, and then starts to suffocate me. I gasp for air as the reality he’s left me—without so much as a goodbye or explanation—sets in.
The pain is soon joined by rage as it sinks in… that jerk left without so much as a goodbye note. That’s the rudest, most disgusting, and cowardly thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.
Lunging, I yank the grocery bags off the table, then toss them into the garbage can. I open the fridge, snatch out the six pack of beer, then shove it in the trash, too.
There… that will teach him. I feel a tiny bit better, despite how childish a reaction that was.
My pulse is hammering so hard from the shock and betrayal of Deacon leaving that it takes me a moment to process the generalized rumbling inside my belly. At first, I think it could be severe acid reflux based on my anger, but then I realize I can hear it, too.
A low, purring growl that gets louder and louder until it stops.
Right in front of my house.
I creep to the front window, pull back the sheer curtain, and peek outside.
Deacon Locke and his motorcycle sit at the curb. He pushes down the jiffy stand. A few days ago, he had informed me of the correct name of the metal rod that held the bike up, since I had incorrectly been calling it the kickstand. He’d chuckled as he pointed out the correction in my slang. It had warmed me to my core when he said, “If you’re riding on the back of my bike, you need to speak the lingo.”
I see his duffel strapped to the bike, confirming my fears.
He’s here to give me the goodbye. A kiss off. He’s on his way out of town, and this is where he breaks up with me.
Jerk.
Moving to the door, I manage to open it up just as he’s stepping onto the porch. He doesn’t seem surprised to find me at home.
“I went by the bakery,” he says hesitantly. “They said you’d left work early and you had told me that you couldn’t get off. Are you okay?”
“Fine. Peachy keen, jelly bean,” I clip out angrily.
“Clearly, you’re not,” he replies, taking a tentative step toward me.
“Well, you’ve packed your stuff up and removed it from my house, so it’s clear you’re heading out of town. That things are over between us. I’m sure you’re here now for the final kiss-off, so let’s just get it out of the way, shall we?”
Normally, my running off at the mouth amuses Deacon, but he isn’t laughing or even smiling now. His eyes are sad, though, and that makes me even angrier.
Which is way better than the grief I’m afraid will take over.
“Just tell me it’s over,” I snap.
“I can’t,” he replies softly.
“Too cowardly,” I surmise with a firm nod of my head. “I get it. Well, I can read the writing on the wall clear enough, Deacon. So just hop on your hog and rumble out of town. I don’t need an explanation. I knew this was coming.”
“This isn’t going how I thought—”
“I’m making things easier for you, Deacon.” I stick out my hand, offering it to him to shake. “Let’s just say thanks for the good times and good luck in life, yeah?”
His eyes flash, tinged with anger and frustration. “Larkin… you’re not a walk in the park—”
“I totally agree with you,” I say brightly. Leaning forward, I grip his hand and give it a hearty shake. “So I’m making this easy on you. We’ve said our goodbyes, so why don’t you just mosey on out of here, so we—”
“I love you,” he says, and that rolls right over me. Doesn’t even really sink in.
“—can get back to our busy lives. You’ve got things—”
“I love you, and I want to stay here,” he says.
“—to do and so do I. Busy, busy lives. No time for relationships and—”
“Build a life with you,” he continues. “Face life with you by my side. I’m ready. I think you’re ready too.”
“—emotional ties. In fact, I’d been getting tired of—”
Deacon gives a guilty kind of shrug. “I mean… from what I read in your diary, it seems you’re ready, but I can’t—”
“Wait a minute,” I cut in, something finally penetrating. Hotly, I accuse, “You read my diary?”
“Um… yeah,” he replies hesitantly, taking a step back.
I stomp forward, poking him hard in the chest. “You read my diary?” I repeat.
“Larkin, can we focus—”
“I can’t believe you read my diary,” I screech, shoving him in his chest so hard he stumbles backward down the porch steps.
“Yes, I read your damn diary,” he growls. “And you raided my damn duffel and handcuffed you
rself to my bed, so what’s the difference?” He flies right back up the porch steps as he says this.
I scuttle backward as he charges at me. I’m not scared, despite the anger on his face. Inherently, I trust Deacon with my life, but I come up flat against my screen door and can’t move another inch, though I do throw out a quieter, “That’s not the same as reading someone’s private thoughts!”
He dips his face, gets right in mine, and runs off at the mouth the way I normally would. “Yes, I read your diary and I’m sorry for it. I know it was a huge invasion of privacy. Admittedly, I was a little freaked out to learn about your feelings for me. I mean… I knew we had feelings for each other, but I was scared to examine them. This is a big deal to me because I’ve never known anyone like you. So I knew this was something special that had the power to alter my entire life, and when I read you wanted me to stay here with you, well… I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle it yet. So I had a moment of weakness. My instinct was to run, and I packed everything up to do so. But… as you can see… I didn’t run.”
“Why not?” I ask suspiciously, not quite ready to get over my ire that he read my diary, but also willing to put it aside since it seems to have been a needed catalyst to having this discussion.
“I had some work to do at Chesty’s, and I started talking to Pap. And well, he talked me down from my fears.”
“Pap?” I ask in surprise. My grandpa is a great guy to chat with and tell stories, but I never thought he’d be the type to talk someone off a ledge. I’m impressed. “What exactly did he say?”
Deacon shakes his head. “Nothing earth shattering. Nothing that was filled with pearls of wisdom. He mainly just got me to talk about my feelings for you, then reconcile them with what I’d be giving up if I stayed here with you.”
“And what did you conclude?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“That I wouldn’t be giving up anything of importance by staying here with you,” he replies simply.
Huh?
It’s just that easy for him to decide he’s not giving up anything by staying here with me?
“You want to stay here with me?” I ask hesitantly.
“If you’ll have me,” he replies with a small wince. “I did read your diary, and I’m sure you’re pretty mad about that still.”
I smile for the first time since he pulled up to my house. “I could probably get past it—if you maybe shared a little bit of how you feel about me.”
Deacon’s lips curve. “Did you hear the part where I said I loved you?”
“I did.” But I need more.
“Well,” he says suggestively as he moves closer, taking both my hands in his. “I’ve never told a woman those words before. Hell, I’ve barely had opportunity to say them to anyone in my life, so you can rest assured they are sacred words to me. Please don’t take them lightly because they are given to you with my soul, Larkin. I love you. When I tell you that, I’m also saying I can’t imagine you not being by my side always. Now, I know you’ll never leave Whynot, nor would I want you to. Much of your joy in life simply comes from this crazy little town, the people in it, and the passion you have for your business. So I want to stay here with you. Like you wrote in your diary, I think that’s going to mean a lot of important things for us down the road. A real home together. Building a family. Sharing a life. I want all of that. And now I think I’ve officially had more of an opinion on this issue than you in the few lines you wrote in your diary. It’s your turn to tell me what you want.”
“Whoa, boy,” I manage on a shaky exhale of breath. I wish I’d had a recorder to capture those words as they were the most perfect I’ve ever heard in my life. I’m afraid anything I say will sound stupid and thin in comparison.
“Larkin… do you want me to stay?” he asks, leaning in close with the most beautiful, soulful look I’ve ever seen. “All you have to do is ask, and I will.”
“Please stay,” I manage to whisper. “Because I love you, too.”
It feels good releasing those words directly to his ears rather than scratching them on paper like a shameful secret.
Deacon’s expression almost crumbles with relief before a wide, joyful smile breaks out across his face. He gives a whoop, gathers me in his arms, then swings me around in a circle. I laugh, clapping my hands onto his shoulders for balance. He spins me until I become dizzy before kissing me and making me even woozier.
I have no clue how long we kiss on my porch, but I’d happily let it go on forever. Right now, there’s such a feeling of completeness in my life. This is the most perfect moment of my existence. I’m sure there will be lovelier things to happen to me, particularly where Deacon is concerned, but for right now, I just can’t imagine being happier.
Finally, he sets me on the porch, releasing my lips and regarding me with warm eyes. “We have a lot more stuff to talk about.”
“How about over dinner?” I suggest. “I just have to pull it out of the garbage can first.”
Deacon’s eyebrows draw inward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do I even want to know why it’s in the garbage?”
“Not really,” I reply with an impish grin. “I’ve got some beer in there for you too.”
Deacon shrugs before reaching out to my screen door to open it. “As long as it’s cold, that’s all that matters.”
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
Larkin
Fifteen months later…
Are you almost ready?
I snicker at the text from Deacon. My thumbs move rapidly over the screen of my phone as I type back, Why?
He replies almost instantly. I’m bored. Your brothers aren’t the easiest to hang around.
I find that extremely hard to believe. Since Deacon became a resident of Whynot, he, Colt and Lowe have become thick as thieves. That’s not to say Ryland and Jake aren’t a part of the inner male circle for our generation of Mancinkus kids, but Deacon has definitely become more like a brother to my own brothers over the last several months. I think it’s merely because he enjoys being part of a true family unit.
I get another text from Deacon. Can I come sit in there with you?
“Deacon wants to come in here and hang out with us,” I tell my sisters. “Do you think that’s okay?”
Trixie and Laken whip around from where they are currently examining my wedding dress for any errant wrinkles. Shocked, they simultaneously exclaim, “No!”
“Why not?” I ask. It’s not like he hasn’t already seen my wedding dress. I showed it to him when I bought it.
“It’s tradition,” Trixie replies primly, sounding like a little old lady.
“And you are a beautiful child of the South who believes in the sanctity of tradition,” Laken points out. “He can’t come in.”
I shrug, then text my fiancé. Sorry. The girls say you can’t come see me.
He merely fires back, Well, I still love you and can’t wait to marry you soon.
Ditto, I text back, adding a little heart emoji.
I set my phone aside, then fiddle with my hair. Most women hire someone to do their hair and makeup, but I am just a simple country girl. I’ve grown my hair out for the past ten months, making it long enough for Trixie to wrangle into a messy bun. The tiny wisps and curls falling out of it look great framing my face. I rarely wear makeup, so the tiny amount I let Laken put on me looks dramatic in a good way.
Today is momentous for the Mancinkus clan. I am the last of my siblings to get married. Within the hour, I will become Mrs. Deacon Locke. I’m not sure it could be more magical than when he proposed to me—at the top of the Eiffel Tower when he took me to Paris last fall—but it will be the most important moment of my life.
It’s been a whirlwind several months during which each of my siblings has entered into holy matrimony. It’s a good thing I am following suit because I think my dad is truly worn out and my mom is sick of crying beautiful tears into silk hankies. There’s definitely a sense of relief that this will be the last on
e.
Lowe was the first as he’d married Mely after a drunken night in Vegas. But that just goes to show the actual wedding has nothing to do with the strength of the union. They are going strong and having a wonderful time operating their bed and breakfast together while they occupy our family’s historic home on the town square. They are also actively trying to get pregnant. All they ever do is shoot sly glances at each other before sneaking off for a little “alone time”. I suspect this is often tied to Mely’s ovulation cycles.
Trixie got married last spring just a few months after Deacon declared that Whynot, North Carolina would become his new home. It was a beautiful wedding held appropriately on the courthouse square as there simply couldn’t be a better venue for two attorneys. Floyd was the minister—although I’m not sure anyone thought to check his credentials.
Now Trixie is waddling around in the late stages of pregnancy as she fluffs at my wedding dress. She’s due in three weeks, and I will become an aunt to a baby girl. To say the Mancinkus family is brimming with excitement is an understatement.
Laken got married a month after Trixie, but she opted for a classic church wedding at the Freemont Street Baptist Church. I found this to be weird since neither she nor Jake attend that church—or any church for that matter. It is, however, how Laken had always envisioned her dream wedding. In her mind, the most beautiful of ceremonies would include her walking down a church aisle while an organ played the Wedding March and bells tolled in the background when she kissed her new husband. Luckily, the Baptists here do not discriminate against heathens like my sister and her fiancé, so they gladly opened their church doors for their wedding.
Because I am Laken’s twin, I am privy to the secret fact she and Jake actually just found out she’s pregnant. She’s only seven weeks, so they’re not going to tell the family until after they see the doctor, but I’m always going to be privy to stuff like that first. Jake and Laken chose to wait a while before they tried as they wanted to have time with each other before a baby came along.
I’m not sure what Deacon and I will do. We’ve talked about it a lot. We’re of the same opinion—depending on what day it is. Sometimes we feel like we should wait, while others we feel like we should get started soon. We’ll just have to see how that plays out.
