Big Man's Bride (Big Men Small Towns 1)

I cook myself breakfast, the same as I do every morning, but it feels strange now. I make eggs and bacon because Ally’s looked so good, but I know they would taste better if Ally made them for me. And I eat alone at the dining room table, not wanting to encroach on Ally’s personal space too soon, but the table feels too big, and I scrape half of my breakfast into the trash because my appetite disappears.

The real question is, what do we do now? It’s a weekend so she doesn’t have to work, but I doubt she’ll want to do anything with me. I might as well continue the work on the porch. It’s a nice day, and it needs to get done anyway.

I get dressed in real clothes and grab the plans I’ve started for the restoration and renovation of the house, and I dare to go out onto the back porch. Ally is typing furiously on her phone, but doesn’t look up at me.

Setting the file down in front of her, I clear my throat. “These are the plans I have for restoring the house, including everything I thought needed work inside and outside, and the plans for the porch. Since it’s going to be your house, I thought I should show you. Feel free to add anything you might want or make notes if you have concerns. I’m going to finish getting rid of the rotten porch boards.”

She doesn’t look up at me, but I see her eyes flick to the folder, and as soon as I’m inside, I watch as she snatches it off the table and begins to pour through the contents. At the very least I know I can get her attention by focusing on the house.

I have about half the demolition left, but it goes very quickly. On the couple of breaks that I take for water, I see Ally moving around the house with the folder, a notepad and a pen. Her face is serious and engaged. Determined.

When I finally get the last of the old planks up from the porch, I take a break. I stand on the back deck and watch the river. When I bought the house, I was attracted to building; I didn’t really appreciate the land so much. But now I get it. The red oaks are dense behind the house leading down to the river. And the rustle of leaves and the rush of water are the perfect Tennessee lullaby. After the hard work on the porch and the gentle breeze coming up from the river, I could lay down right here and fall peacefully asleep.

“Whatcha doing?” Ally startles me. “I thought you could use a drink,” she says, handing me a glass of lemonade. The glass is already sweating. A peace offering?

“Thanks,” I say, taking the glass and gulping down half the lemonade. “Tart. Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s pretty wild to drink a glass back here again. It just brings it all back to me. It feels like yesterday I was running barefoot down to the river without a care in the world.”

“Well, it actually was yesterday,” I tease. “Barefoot in the river, that is.”

She punches my shoulder but she’s laughing. “You know what I mean. It’s just … a lot.” She stares off toward the Cumberland and we stand in silence for a few minutes, listening the birdsong and enjoying the breeze.

Later, as I pile the last of the rotting wood on the side of the driveway, I have an idea. The thought comes from out of the blue, but once it’s in my head, I don’t want to let it go. It’s still early in the evening, and I haven’t had much to eat today. I doubt Ally has either.

I shower in a flash, washing the sweat off myself before I go poking around in the kitchen. Soon I have everything I need. I grab a blanket, and head to one of the gorgeous spots near the river. Ally knows this place backwards and forwards. She’ll know where I am with barely a glance.

It’s our honeymoon, right? What’s more like a honeymoon than a picnic? Snapping a photo of the food laid out on the blanket, and then the view of the river, I text both of them to Ally.Join me?It’s a gamble. She might not come, but this is my version of the peace offering, and I hope that she accepts. We have a month of living together in front of us, and I hope, even if she can’t forgive me, we can at least have some semblance of peace. Luckily my realtor left me a basket of gourmet foods when he dropped off the keys, so even though this is thrown together hastily, it actually looks really impressive with caviar, crackers, a hard salami and a nice bottle of merlot. There’s even a small box of truffles.