The Reason I Married Him
: Chapter 9

I stare up at the ceiling in my room, the buzz of the pie still pulsing through me.

That was some good fucking pie.

And a good burger.

And fries.

And . . . company.

Surprising. Aubree can be really fun. I’m not sure other people know that about her. At least people around town. They seem to be concerned about her happiness and the cards she’s been dealt. But what I’ve found is that of course she’s serious, but that’s not her entire personality. She can be fun. She can joke.

She can take a joke.

Not many people can, but she takes it and sometimes gives it right back.

She’s a good time with a difficult past, which I think puts her on the defensive most of the time. I can sense that she doesn’t want to open up. She doesn’t want to grow close, but it seems she might allow me into her circle.

Her very, very small circle.

I desperately want to ask her what Matt did to her. Why he was a dick and if there is anything she wants me to do to him to seek revenge. I might not be a murderer or an arsonist like some of the main characters in my books, but I know a thing or two about fucking around with people. I could make Matt’s life a living hell and get away with it. And Amanda? Her ex-best friend? Fucking awful. I am still angry that she had the gall to brag about marrying Aubree’s ex to Aubree. To . . . belittle her so callously. I’ll never understand mean girls, but I’m glad that she used me as her shield at that moment. I don’t know Aubree that well, but what I am is a good friend. And I want to be that person for her.

I grab my phone from the nightstand, and even though I spent the evening with her, I text her.

Wyatt: Hey.

Great opening. I know it will get her attention. Because she’ll probably be wondering why is he texting me and why is he only saying hey after we said goodbye like half an hour ago?

And what an awkward goodbye that was. She was going for a wave, I was going in for a hug, and she ended up scraping her hand over my nipple, making it hard. I, naturally, pointed it out to her and asked if she wanted to feel it. She shook her head and walked away.

Not sure why she didn’t want to feel it. Who doesn’t like a perky nipple?

Apparently, Aubree.

My phone dings with a text, and I smile to myself.

Aubree: Hi?

Just what I’d expect from her.

Wyatt: How was your night?

Aubree: Are you conducting a survey?

I smile to myself and type her back.

Wyatt: As a matter of fact, I am.

Aubree: Not sure you want to hear the results.

Wyatt: I can take the criticism.

Aubree: Well . . . the food was good. The pie was delicious despite only getting a quarter of it.

Wyatt: But what about the company?

Aubree: I’d give the company a seven out of ten.

Wyatt: A seven? I’ll take that. Not perfect, room to grow, but not so low that I’ll fall into a deep depression wondering what the hell happened to me and how I got to where I am. Where could I improve?

Aubree: I think self-assessment might be best for you.

Wyatt: You want me to self-assess? Seems like you might not know what was wrong and that my score was higher than a seven.

Aubree: No, it was a seven.

Wyatt: Hmm *taps chin* Did I get knocked a point because I asked you to touch my nipple?

Aubree: That was unpleasant, yes.

Wyatt: Was it all the oral talk?

Aubree: Another thing.

Wyatt: And was it because I didn’t hold your hand?

Aubree: No, I didn’t want you to hold my hand.

Wyatt: Why not?

Aubree: Because that feels intimate to me.

Wyatt: More intimate than sharing a fork that I drooled all over?

Aubree: Please, I tried to block that from my mind.

Wyatt: Seriously. We swapped spit tonight, but you refuse to hold my hand. Why?

Aubree: I just think that’s something that should be reserved for a real relationship.

Wyatt: Okay, so are we never going to hold hands?

Aubree: Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?

Wyatt: It’s an easy thing to do that convinces people we’re a couple. If we walk side by side without holding hands, we’ll give off sibling vibes.

Aubree: Trust me, people will still think we’re together. Matt never held my hand, and people still knew we were together.

I stare at her text, confused. Matt never held her hand? That’s pretty shitty. I wonder why. I was always grabbing for Cadance’s hand. It’s something I miss, if I’m honest. Although, it’s interesting that it’s not Cadance’s hand I imagine to be holding right now.

Wyatt: Matt seems like a loser if you ask me. If you were my girl, I’d hold your hand.

Aubree: I don’t know what to say to that.

Wyatt: You don’t need to say anything. Just know that I’m here for you, for anything you need.

Aubree: Why?

Wyatt: What do you mean, why?

Aubree: I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me. Like you swooped in, without knowing much about me, and decided to be my number one fan, my number one supporter. Why?

Yeah, why, Wyatt?

Why are you so drawn to her, wanting to help her?

Am I overcompensating because that’s what I used to do with Cadance, and now I need to expel that energy onto someone else?

Is it because we’re connected by two people we lost, and I feel the need to be by her side? Like kindred spirits?

Is it because I can see sadness in her eyes, the same sort of sadness I see reflected in the mirror? I might not show it, but I sure as fuck feel it. I feel it every day I wake up alone in my bed. I feel it when I reach for my phone and see no text messages, none telling me how I’m missed, how I’m loved. I felt it when I was resting on Laurel’s couch, alone on a Friday night with nothing better to do than watch Overboard for the fiftieth time on TBS.

Either way, I feel something toward Aubree, but I don’t think she’d want to know that. She made it quite clear about not having handouts or pity directed her way. Not that I pity her, but I wouldn’t want her to think this connection I feel is anything but genuine companionship. She’s barely okay with our agreement. I don’t want to scare her off with these thoughts in my head. Plus, as I learned from her, she doesn’t do emotions or feelings. Opening up to her would only scare her away.

So I snap out of my head and lie.

Wyatt: This relationship is an investment. I want to make sure we’re both taken care of.

Aubree: I’m taken care of, so there’s no need to go out of your way.

Yeah, I thought she’d say that. She doesn’t like help, she doesn’t like pity, and she doesn’t like to look lesser than. She holds her head high, does the work, and has no problem supporting herself, even if it seems like she’s in a patched-up boat, slowly drowning day by day.

Wyatt: Well, I’m here if you need me.

Aubree: I appreciate it. But I’m good. Which reminds me, I don’t need you coming by tomorrow with muffins.

Wyatt: Wasn’t planning on it. I’m taking muffins to Rodney.

Aubree: Rodney? The railroad museum guy?

Wyatt: The very one.

Aubree: Why?

Wyatt: Why not?

Aubree: Are you friends?

Wyatt: Possibly, we shall see by the end of tomorrow. He asked me to stop by, I told him I would, and here we are. Are you jealous?

Aubree: Not even a little.

Wyatt: Okay, because even though I’m going to visit with someone else, it doesn’t mean that you’re not my number one. Because you are, Rowley. You’re my number one.

Aubree: Not sure if that should make me happy or nauseous.

Wyatt: Maybe a little of both. Have a good night . . . Mrs. Preston.

Aubree: Jesus.

“YOU REALLY GOT ME A HAT,” I say to Rodney as he stares up at me with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen, glee and hope beaming from them.

“I did. Do you like it?” he asks.

I take in the plain black hat with a white stitched number on the front in a Times New Roman font. The number is simple: 576. That’s it. That’s all that’s on the hat. I don’t think anyone outside of the train community would know what this number means. But from the look in Rodney’s eyes, he knows.

Smiling, I say, “Love it, but remind me what this number means?”

He takes the hat from me and runs his finger over the tight stitching, saying, “Engine 576, the one remaining J3 in the country. Located now in Nashville under preservation, this mighty engine was one of thousands and once carried freight and troops during World War II. It was one of the last J3s to have yellow skirting, giving it the nickname the yellow jacket. In 1952, due to dieselization, all of the other J3s were scrapped, but the 576 lived on in memory and history.”

Oh.

Wow.

Okay. I see what we’re dealing with here.

I pull on the back of my neck as Rodney hands me the hat back. “That’s incredible, Rodney.”

“I was surprised to see the engine number at the expo, but representatives from Nashville were there selling model kits with 576, and I just knew I had to grab you a hat.”

“That was really kind of you. Thank you. Would you say this is one of your favorite engines?”

He nods. “I love the yellow skirting. Would you like to see the pictures I took of the pictures they had on display?”

Boy, do I love pictures of pictures.

“Would love it,” I say just as the door to the railroad museum opens. I look up to replace Hayes walking in. I nod at him. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” he says. “What’s up, Rodney?”

“Busy,” he says as he taps away on his phone with one single finger, you know, the way old people do it.

“Look at this hat Rodney bought me.” I hold up the engine hat, and Hayes smirks.

“That’s awesome,” he says, clearly not believing it.

I adjust the back of the hat and then slip it on, showing off my new headwear. “Fits like a glove, Rodney.”

“Aha!” Rodney says as he flashes his phone screen toward me. “See the yellow skirting?”

“Oh yeah, look at that. Wow, slick engine.”

Rodney brings the phone back to himself so he can stare down at the picture as well. “What a masterful design with the bullet nose.” He sighs and then looks up at Hayes. “I got you a hat as well.”

“You did?” Hayes asks. “Wow, you didn’t have to do that.”

“They were buy two, get one free. I thought we could be the three musketeers with our hats.” He walks over to his counter and grabs two more hats, all with the same 576 stitching on the front. “Here you are.”

He hands Hayes the hat, and he puts it on. As does Rodney.

Together, we stand in the middle of a railroad museum, wearing our matching hats with a beaming owner—he’s so proud of himself.

“Wow,” Rodney says, clutching his hands together. “We look great.”

I inwardly chuckle. “So great that I’d love to take a picture of all of us.” I pull out my phone and turn it to selfie mode. Hayes and I huddle with Rodney in the middle, who’s at least a foot shorter than us, and together, we smile.

Rodney smiles so big that his eyes are closed.

What a cute old man.

Odd, but cute.

“Perfect,” I say and then send it straight to Aubree. Can’t wait to hear what she has to say. “Why are you here, Hayes?”

“Came to bring Rodney a note from my grandma. They’ve recently become pen pals.”

“You didn’t read it, did you?” Rodney asks, looking like he’s about to bark if Hayes did read it.

“Never,” he answers. “It’s sealed with the wax that I recently got her.”

“Excellent,” Rodney says as he snatches the letter out of Hayes’s hand, grabs the box of muffins I brought him, and rushes to his back room.

“What the hell is that about?” I ask.

“Pretty sure they’re sending each other love letters. I got a sneak peek of my grandma’s response once, and there was a red heart next to her name.”

“How do you feel about Rodney possibly being your grandpa?”

Hayes chuckles. “Well, he gave me this bitching hat, so what do you think?”

I laugh and pull the hat off my head to get a better look at it. “At least the embroidery is really clean. It’s good work.”

“I have like three others like this. Not a 576, though. This is a new one.”

“Wow, really?”

Hayes nods. “Yup. Can’t even tell you what the other ones are, can’t remember, but I try to wear them around Rodney as much as I can. I knew he went to a convention this past weekend, so I assumed he’d bring one back for me. Therefore, I didn’t bother wearing one today.”

“So that means you come in here often,” I say.

“Yeah. I’ll hang out with Rodney and keep him company from time to time. He’s a pretty cool guy, a bit eccentric, but his heart is in the right place. And when I say right place, I mean with trains.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I thought my grandpa was into trains, but Rodney is showing him up.” I glance toward the back. “How long do you think he’ll be back there?”

“A while,” Hayes answers. “He is most likely analyzing the letter. He writes her back right away. Were you guys supposed to hang out?”

“Not really. I don’t know what was supposed to happen today. I just know I was supposed to come here after his convention, so I’m here.”

“Man of his word, I like that.” He nods toward the exit. “Want to head over to The Cliffs for coffee and a donut?”

“Sure, since he took the muffins and ran,” I say. I glance toward the back again. “Do we need to say bye?”

Hayes shakes his head. “Nah, he’ll just snap at you to leave him alone.”

“Fair enough.”

Hayes leads us across the street. We pass The Almond Store, and I don’t miss the way Hayes peeks into the windows, looking for his girl. I remember when I was like that with Cadance. Always looking for her and feeling a sense of joy when I did see her.

If I saw her now, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have the same sense of joy. More like bitter anger. Just how long had she been unhappy with me? To be able to walk away so easily?

So completely.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Hayes asks as we make it to the other side of the road and walk to The Cliffs, a place of coffee and pastries to-go, sit-down breakfasts and, from the sign, they do catering.

“Yeah, hard not to fall in love with Almond Bay,” I say as we enter the building. It almost feels like we’re stepping into a barn with large plank wooden floors, wood shiplap all along the walls and ceilings, exposed beams, and turrets. Barrels of coffee line up along the register and the stairs that lead to the second floor. Self-serve scoops and paper bags are next to the barrels, as well as a rainbow assortment of licorice. Interesting combination. Along the right of the shop is the coffee and pastry bar, and toward the back seems to be the sit-down area.

Surprised I haven’t come in here yet.

“Morning, Hayes,” a burly man from behind the register counter says. “The usual?”

“Please,” Hayes says, making room for me. “Have you met Wyatt yet?”

The man with more hair on his forearms than his head looks up at me. “No, I don’t believe we have. I’m Hank.”

“Hank, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Wyatt.”

Hank studies me for a moment. “Wyatt, are you the new guy everyone is talking about? You’re going out with Aubree, right? My daughters were gabbing about it all morning.”

I chuckle. “Guilty, that’s me.”

“Well, nice to meet the talk of the town. Apparently, you were spotted last night enjoying cherry pie with Aubree. Now all the cherry pies at The Sweet Lab are gone. Sold out.”

Hayes pats me on the back. “Look at you being a trendsetter.”

“Yes, so if you could be spotted eating something here, I’d appreciate it.”

I laugh. “What do you need to sell out of?”

Hank drags his hand over his cheek as he looks at his barrels of coffee. “I have this one coffee brand no one will buy from me, and it’s driving me nuts.”

A sick feeling starts in my stomach. “What coffee?”

“Clearwater Coffee.” Hank shakes his head. “Tastes like swill, and everyone knows it. Maybe if they see you drink it, they might give it another shot.”

I swallow hard and mask my discomfort. Of course Clearwater Coffee is here. Cadance made a big push on the brand a year ago, trying to sell it up and down the coast. Looks like Hank fell victim to her big blue eyes.

“Ah, man, I’d love to do you a solid on that, but I’ve tasted Clearwater, and it’s piss.”

Hank lets out a boisterous laugh. “Dammit.” He playfully smacks the counter. “And here I thought I was about to get rid of it. Might just compost it and take the hit. After word got out about the flavor, no one has touched it. Trust me when I say, never do anything wrong in this town because everyone will know about it. Luckily, I’ve recovered since trying to feed people the sludge, but it’s been an uphill climb. The only thing that saved me was my omelets.”

“He’s being dramatic,” Hayes says. “But the omelets are next level.”

“Is that the usual?” I ask him.

Hayes shakes his head. “Nah, I like a simple cup of coffee with creamer and one of his bear claws. To me, that’s his real claim to fame, but it seems the omelet obsession has made people overlook the bear claw.”

“Well, if they’re that good, I’ll have to give it a try,” I say. “I’ll take the usual as well.”

Hank points his finger at me and Hayes. “If I sell out of bear claws, you two can eat here for free.”

We both laugh, and Hank rings us up. Neither Hayes nor I struggle financially, but Hank’s generosity reflects small-town kindness. Rare. Genuine. I go to pay, but Hayes stops me, claiming he asked me to breakfast, so he’ll pay.

I’m not going to argue. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone else pay for me.

When finished at the register, Hank moves to the coffee bar and says, “Pick a seat outside. I’ll have your drinks and donuts delivered to you.”

“Thanks, Hank,” Hayes says, heading out back. He says hi to a few people but doesn’t stay to chat. He moves to the back deck to a table under a blue umbrella.

The ocean breeze cools the temperature from the sun’s rays, and the salty scent is incredible. I can see why people want to live here year-round. I might soon be one of them. I forgot how much I appreciate the ocean until I’m around it.

“So you were caught sharing a pie with Aubree. Big news,” Hayes says with a smirk.

“Apparently. Didn’t know it was going to be the talk of the town.”

“Everything is the talk of the town, especially when it’s a new relationship. You should have heard the gossip when Hattie and I first got together, especially since Ryland and I were in a feud. It was all anyone ever talked about. We even had some rumors develop. That was exciting.”

“Oh?” I ask. “Like what?”

“Stupid shit like I was hooking up with Hattie to get back at Ryland. I was going to get her pregnant and leave her. That I was only using her for music inspiration. You know, dumb shit.”

“How did you calm down the rumors?”

“I didn’t go out of my way, that’s for damn sure. Just kept loving on Hattie and showing up for her. Showing the town that I’m not some dickhead trying to get something out of my girl.”

Oh boy, that hits a little too close to home.

Hank walks up with a tray. He sets down two cups of coffee and two plates, each with a bear claw bigger than my hand. Okay, I can get on board with this.

“Thanks, Hank,” Hayes says.

“Now remember, eat those slow. Let everyone see what the two stars of the town are feasting on.”

We both laugh as he takes off.

“I’ll be impressed if he sells out of bear claws,” I say right before I take a bite.

Holy fuck.

Soft with a slight crisp on the bottom. Cinnamon and glaze and dough all mixed into one. Jesus, this is good.

“Wow,” I say, taking a look at the pastry. “This is really good.” I glance around and then say a little louder. “This is really freaking good.” I hold up the bear claw, pretending to examine it, but I’m really showing the audience what I’m eating.

“Subtle.” Hayes laughs.

“Just trying to help a guy out. It is good, though.”

“My favorite,” Hayes says and sips his coffee. “Not to be a gossip, but what’s going on with you and Aubree? Hattie was telling me you two have been talking for a while? Funny because when we were at Coleman’s together, you seemed to be telling me a different story.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was trying to mask what was really going on.”

“Fooled me,” he says.

“Yeah, just protecting her wishes, but we’ve been talking a while. It got to the point that I hated the distance between us. I could work anywhere really, so I thought I’d stay for a week and see what she thought about it.”

“How do you think she feels?” Hayes asks.

“Good,” I answer. “She was really happy that I came, after the initial shock of course. She was nervous about what you guys might think, but now that everyone knows, she’s less tense.”

Hayes slowly nods. “So you like her?” I can see he’s attempting to test me, most likely set up by Hattie. I don’t mind. This is where I shine.

“Love her,” I answer, causing Hayes’s eyes to widen.

He sets his coffee cup down. “You love her?”

“Yeah,” I say, then really go for it. “Plan on proposing.”

Hayes is about to take a bite of his bear claw but then slowly lowers it back to the plate. “Propose?”

This is far too comical. Here he was, thinking he was going to have a simple conversation about Aubree, but instead, he’s getting a whole lot of information he probably wasn’t expecting.

“Yeah. I love her, simple as that. I don’t want to be away from her, and well, I think it would just make sense, you know?”

“Uh . . .” He smooths his hands over his legs as he shifts in his chair. “But haven’t you, like, just met?”

“No, we’ve known each other for a while. I helped move Clarke and Cassidy into their farmhouse when Cassidy was pregnant with Mac. I spent some time around Aubree, and I thought she was fucking gorgeous.” That’s not a lie. I did. I still do. I had just gotten together with Cadance then, so I wasn’t even considering a relationship with Aubree. Not that Hayes needs to know about that. No one here knows about Cadance. “And when I found out that I owned part of the land, it was easy for me to talk to her because, like the hormone-driven idiot that I am, I was interested. So yeah, we were talking and then I realized that my feelings were stronger than what I expected. We started out as friends, and now we’ve moved on to so much more.”

Hayes slowly nods his head. “Wow, I mean, that’s awesome, but I’m surprised. I didn’t think you knew that much about each other.”

“Do I know everything about Aubree? No, but that’s what marriage is all about, replaceing out more about each other.”

“Are you staying with her in her house?” Hayes asks.

“Not yet, but starting this week, I’m moving in.”

“Does she know you’re moving in?” Hayes asks on a chuckle. “Because Aubree is not great at sharing her space.”

“Yeah, we talked about it last night, but we came to the conclusion that it would be best to cross that bridge. She’s wanted me to spend the night while I’ve been here, but I wanted to give her space, let her adjust.” Total lies, but I am a storyteller, after all.

“Probably smart,” Hayes says. He sips from his mug and then lowers it back to the table. He stares off at the ocean, still gripping the handle. “I think you’ll be good for her.” His eyes return to me. “Not that I know much about you, but what I do know, I think she needs. You’re lighthearted and fun. You seem not to dwell on the negative, and she needs someone like that in her life.”

“A reverse grumpy sunshine,” I say.

Hayes raises a brow in question, causing me to laugh.

“Sorry, it’s a book trope. Usually in books, the man is the grumpy one and the girl is the sunshine in the relationship. People love a grumpy hero and a female who can bring him to his knees. Aubree and I would be the reverse version. She’s grumpy, and I’m sunshine, but she’s still the one bringing me to my knees. Every fucking day.”

“The Rowley women will do that to you,” Hayes says. “At first, Hattie was the most annoying person ever, but then it was like it hit me all at once. I liked her annoying tendencies. I liked how she joked around with me, poked fun at me. It made me feel real, like I wasn’t this man in a glass case that everyone wanted to impress or ask for something. She made me feel like I was an actual human.”

I nod. “I get that with Aubree. Clearly, I’m not as famous as you, but I enjoy the fact that Aubree could give two shits about my books even though I know she’s read them. I like that she fights back. I like that she doesn’t let me get away with anything. She challenges me.” Now that’s all true. I do enjoy that about Aubree. And it’s something Cadance rarely did. She was challenging, but she argued with me because she was a tad spoiled.

“It’s the challenge,” Hayes says knowingly. “We like the fucking challenge.”

“We do,” I say before taking another huge bite of my bear claw.

“So when do you plan to propose?”

“Soon,” I answer. “Just have to get a ring.”

“Wow, I didn’t think it would be that quick.” He shakes his head with a smile. “Fuck, man. You’re going to make me look bad.”

“Do you want to propose to Hattie?”

He nods. “Yeah, been trying to think of the perfect way to do it. I know Ryland, Mac, and Aubree would approve. But look at you, coming in full steam and just taking charge.” He grips his chin. “I felt like I needed to win over the crowd first.”

“There was history with you and Ryland, so the delay is understandable. I’m just the guy who had a piece of the farm and came right on in.”

“Yeah, how the fuck is that fair?”

I shrug. “It’s not. But I’m not complaining.”

WYATT: It’s happening. We’re getting married.

Laurel: You’re serious? She agreed?

Wyatt: Yup, we’re currently dating at the moment—fake dating—and I plan on proposing soon. Tonight I’m going to surprise her with my bags.

Laurel: What do you mean by bags? That could represent a variety of things. Like your suitcases? Or are we talking more intimate like . . . your bags, you know, testicles?

Wyatt: Jesus, no man with a right head on his shoulders is ever going to refer to his testicles as bags.

Laurel: It’s just nice to clarify. So you’re going to move in with her? How does she feel about that?

Wyatt: Probably not great, but it will be weird if I stay at the inn. I had to cover up for it already. If we’re dating and going to get married, it only makes sense that I move in.

Laurel: Do people know you’re getting married?

Wyatt: I had breakfast with Hayes this morning and dropped the seed with him.

Laurel: What kind of seed . . .

Wyatt: Not THAT kind of seed. Jesus, Laurel, what is wrong with you today?

Laurel: Can’t be sure. Okay, so you planted—I think that’s the term we’re looking for—the seed that you’re going to propose. Smart, because he’ll probably tell Hattie.

Wyatt: Not sure that he will. I think Hattie is looking for a proposal from him soon, and if I propose before Hayes, she might flip out.

Laurel: So then who would he tell?

Wyatt: My guess is Ryland, the brother, and Abel, the friend.

Laurel: Ahhh, smart.

Wyatt: Not just a hat rack, my friend *points at head*

Laurel: So there’s going to be a wedding.

Wyatt: There’s going to be a wedding.

Laurel: Am I the only one who thinks this is completely insane?

Wyatt: THIS WAS YOUR IDEA!

Laurel: An insane idea! I mean, a smart, insane idea, but I didn’t think it would work.

Wyatt: You underestimate me.

Laurel: Apparently. So am I invited to the wedding?

Wyatt: Uh, you’re going to be my best woman.

Laurel: Wyatt, that’s so touching. So when is it going to happen? Sooner rather than later? Can I bring a date?

Wyatt: It needs to be sooner rather than later, and of course you can bring a date.

Laurel: I’m assuming it will be in Almond Bay.

Wyatt: You assume correctly. Simple and small, I doubt Aubree will want anything big and flashy. Probably just a few friends and family.

Laurel: Crazy, but okay. Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.

Wyatt: I can always count on you, Laurel.