The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(33)

But now, here we are with this second chance, and even though this, him—has the capability to obliterate me all over again—I can’t turn away. Some things are worth the risk if you’re brave enough to take the leap.

Thayer opens the back door and pulls out a packed basket—a literal basket like you see in movies when the couple goes on a picnic—and a blanket he drapes over top of it. Closing and locking up the truck, he offers his hand to me, and we trek across the muddy grass toward the gazebo. I’m thankful I wore a pair of Converse sneakers instead of the sandals I had planned on. I’ll have to wash these later, but it’s worth it.

The gazebo is white with vines of flowers crawling up the sides. It matches the one in the middle of town but is larger in size.

Letting go of my hand, he sits the basket down and spreads the blanket out.

“Is this okay?” He looks a bit unsure of himself which is unusual for Thayer. Normally nothing ruffles his feathers.

“It’s great.” I hold onto the side of the gazebo and take my shoes off, not wanting to get mud all over the blanket. Thayer does the same, then opens the top of the basket, pulling out covered dishes of food.

“What did you make?” I gather my skirt up, tucking it under me as I sit down.

He uncovers a bowl and passes it to me. “Pasta!” I cry in delight. “Is that lobster in it?”

He laughs softly, ducking his head as he rummages through the basket. “Yes.”

“Wow, you really went all out. I feel special.”

“You are.” He says it so simply, like it’s a fact I should already know.

He sets out bread and dipping oil on top of a cutting board along with a knife. He passes me a fork before uncovering his own bowl.

“This is amazing.” I look at the spread of food. “You thought of everything. You could’ve just taken me to a restaurant, you know?”

He swirls pasta around his fork. “And what’s special about that? We’ve already eaten at a restaurant together.” Lowering his head, he adds in a deeper voice, “After everything, you deserve something different than that.”

I don’t much feel like rehashing the past now, so I don’t remark on that. Besides, we’ve established that I was hurt by his silence after everything. We’re adults, we both know we could’ve made different choices.

“Truly, this is … well, honestly, it’s perfect.”

It’s simple, sweet. The thought that went into him planning this for us means everything.

“Do you think you would’ve come back here, to Hawthorne Mills, if it wasn’t for your mom?”

I wrinkle my nose, contemplating his question. “Eventually.” Picking up a piece of bread, I dip it in the oil to busy myself while I sort through my thoughts. “I think I would’ve had to. As much as I’ve avoided this place, it’s always called to me.”

“You stayed away because of me.”

He makes it a statement, but I answer anyway. “Yes and no. Because of everything this place became somewhere I dreaded to be. And I think, even after I got married, I was afraid of what it would feel like to see you with another woman.”

He clears his throat, his cheeks pinkening. “About that…”

“Yes?” I prompt curiously.

“I haven’t been with anyone.”

“For a while?”

“A long while.” He looks out of the gazebo at the trees, mumbling, “Not since you.”

“Since me?” I blurt loudly, taken by complete surprise. “Thayer,” I laugh, more from shock than any genuine humor, “that’s … you have to be joking. I mean, don’t you remember that night after my sister’s wedding? Caleb brought me home and you were there with a woman. Granted, she left,” I ramble, talking animatedly with my hands, “but I saw you.”

He lowers his head, but not before I miss the shame swimming in his eyes. “I was in a bad place. A really fucking bad place and I was being an asshole because I was hoping you’d see. I wanted to push you away. I didn’t want you wasting your love on me when I felt like all the good in me had left. I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I never planned to.” He rubs his jaw, the muscle clenching at the memories. “I’m not saying I haven’t gone on any dates in all this time—mostly in a vain hope that maybe I’d feel some sort of spark—but I haven’t had sex with anyone.”

I blink.

Blink again.

Surely, I haven’t heard him right.

There’s no way.

He gently pushes my jaw back up. “Don’t want you catching flies like that.”

“You haven’t had sex in six years?”

Stunned. I’m completely speechless. There’s no way. This has to be a joke, right?

“No.”

“I … whoa … wow.” I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this and then I start laughing, because this means— “The last time you had sex you got me pregnant. You really went all out, didn’t you?”

Even he has to snicker at that. Sobering, he clears his throat. “Were you alone when you found out?”

Shaking my head, I stretch my legs out fully and adjust my dress around my legs. “I was with Lauren.”