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It was noon when Daisy started to regret writing the letter. It wasn’t because she didn’t mean what she said in it. It was because of how much she did mean it.
That was the whole problem.
She woke up early. 5am. Before the sun. Before Bailey clambered into their bedroom, demanding morning cuddles. Before Shane’s alarm went off. She snuck downstairs with her hair piled on her head and one of Shane’s t-shirt falling off her shoulder.
She had little gifts for the kids. A necklace and new book series for Jas, a stuffed frog and pack of pick and red trucks for Bailey. Little candies and stuffies and stupid little plastic things that would end up in the trash by the end of the month. But they deserved to know how much their mom and dad loved them.
She kept telling herself that the gift for Shane wasn’t much.
A vintage Tunnelers jersey he’d been talking about for months but never justified buying for himself. A variety pack of those stupid fancy hot sauces he liked. A pack of socks decorated with chickens. And that stupid fucking love letter.
She wrapped it all. Displayed it nicely. Rearranged where the letter would go a dozen times. She finally left it alone after hearing little footsteps in the hall.
Shane didn’t really do romance on purpose. She learned that before they’d even gotten together. He loved her so much, and she knew that. Felt it every single day. He just didn’t do grand gestures or talked much about his feelings beyond what was expected. She knew that, and she was fine with it. It had never bothered her before.
Until it was half past twelve and she decided she should’ve just bought him a generic card from JojaMart instead. She’d overdone it.
At one, they had lunch together at the saloon like they did on most days. She sat across from him in an oversized t-shirt and biker shorts covered in dust and dirt. He kissed her like normal. Complained that Gus ran out of hot sauce like normal. Asked about her day like normal. They ate and the letter didn’t come up and Daisy felt like she was going to throw up.
This was normal.
Daisy smiled and they ate lunch and he kissed her goodbye before they went their separate ways.
Everything was normal.
This was a normal Wednesday. They had a toddler at daycare and a kid in school. The winery was chaotic like always. Ethan and Sam decided to skip town and leave her to take care of everything. Haley and Alex were doing their best to pick up the slack.
They were just a busy married couple celebrating their first Love Day since their wedding. No big deal. They had a family before a ring, they’d done all of the big things already. A stupid corporate holiday didn't actually mean anything.
He texted her at three. Two pictures. One of Bailey with strawberries staining his face and that adorable, feral grin. One of Jas smiling at the camera surrounded by construction paper and markers.
Baby Daddy🩵🐓: survived pickup
Baby Daddy🩵🐓: he bit a kid. it was mutual
Baby Daddy🩵🐓: apparently she has a boyfriend might have to kill a child
She laughed, saving the photos and typing a reply.
Daisy Mae☀️: who taught him to bite?
Daisy Mae☀️: also pls don’t harm any children
That was it. No love you. No more to the conversation. Just a read receipt and no mention of the letter on the table.
That’s when the spiral started.
Maybe he hadn’t seen it.
Maybe one of the kids had moved it.
Maybe it felt like too much pressure.
Maybe the letter was too sentimental.
Maybe he read it and didn’t know what to say.
Maybe he didn’t like that she’d written about the cliffs and rehab and watching him be a dad and the way she used to be scared he’d disappear but instead he’d turned into an amazing man and husband that she was so proud of.
What kind of delusional romance novel did she think she was living in?
At 5:30, she finally sent Haley and Alex home after they finished up for the day. They didn’t have to witness her lingering to avoid the inevitable disappointment of the evening.
She wiped down the counters twice. Reorganized the invoices Ethan had already alphabetized. Checked the shipping schedule for the next week even though she knew it by heart.
Anything to delay going home.
It was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. Married. With two kids and a business that she started from the ground up and a winery and two dogs that definitely needed to be fed by now.
And yet the idea of walking through the front door and pretending she hadn’t bared her entire soul in four handwritten pages made her want to crawl into a barrel of pinot and stay there.
The sky was streaked pink and gold when she finally walked up the gravel path toward the farmhouse. Her muckboots crunched. The air was cold enough to bite at her cheeks. She unlocked the door and paused with it pushed halfway open.
The house was dark and quiet when she walked in. Suspiciously so. Wilde Acres did not exist in the quiet. It was loud and chaotic and tainted with glitter and finger paint and cat hair.
No Bailey shrieking about trucks.
No Jas narrating a dramatic retelling of elementary school drama.
No Goober barking like the world was ending or Gimlet attacking her like she’d gone to war for several years.
For a single moment, her heart dropped. Bailey had a meltdown and Jas had a bad day, her mind supplied uselessly. That meant an early bedtime and an overstimulated and grumpy Shane. She couldn’t stop herself from making up increasingly worse scenarios in her mind as she let herself enter the mudroom.
She shut the door behind her, kicking off her muck boots before finally realizing what was going on.
Soft golden light spilled in from the kitchen, flickering against the walls. Garlic and lemon and herbs wafted through the mudroom, something warm and intentional.
She crossed the threshold and froze.
The kitchen table had been moved closer to the middle of the room, completely cleared off of its usual clutter. Dressed with one of the tablecloths and nice china she only brought out when they hosted for the holidays. Candles burned in mismatched holders. Fairy lights had been strung haphazardly along the cabinets, glowing soft and honeyed. In the middle of it were two hand drawn construction paper cards from Jas and Bailey, angled against a bouquet of flowers.
Not wildflowers.
Not something small and understated.
She recognized almost immediately that these flowers were from the florist in Grampleton. The one that you had to order from a month in advance if you wanted a bouquet anywhere near Love Day.
It was a huge, ridiculous, extravagant arrangement. Roses and peonies and baby’s breath spilling out of a crystal vase.
“Shit. Fuck!” Her husband hissed from the kitchen, followed by a loud clatter and another string of increasingly more aggressive curses.
Daisy startled, her hand coming up to rest against her chest as her heart stuck in her throat. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up out of her chest as another clatter and more curses echoed.
“You fuckin’-- no no no--”
She rounded the corner.
Shane stood at the stove with his back to her, shoulders tense, one hand gripping a pair of tongs like they’d personally betrayed him. He wore dark jeans and a button-up she’d only seen a handful of times, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His hair was brushed back and styled with actual product in it. She could smell the cologne he’d worn on their wedding day mixing with whatever he was cursing at on the stove.
He froze when he realized she was there.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“…Hi,” he finally said, cringing at his own words.
Intelligent. Articulate. Husband of the year. Definitely worthy of the unconditional love given by the most extraordinary woman he’d ever met.
She stared at him. At the stove. At the plated food behind him. At the candles. At the flowers. At him again.
“Hi,” she echoed faintly.
He glanced down at the pan like it might save him.“I, uh--” He cleared his throat. “You weren’t supposed to see this part.”
She let out a shaky breath that almost turned into a laugh. “No?” She breathed, a weary smile appearing across her face.
He broke into a grin, throwing off the dish towel on his shoulder and crossing the tile towards her. Before she could comprehend what was happening, his hands were on her hips and he was kissing her. Full of passion and love and something so tender it made her heart stutter.
When he pulled back, the three words “I love you,” echoed through the kitchen. His forehead pressed to hers. Her hands rested against his biceps.
The words were final. The same firm tone he used when she was having a bad day or insecure about herself as his partner. Holding no room for argument or judgement.
“I love you,” he repeated, like he needed her to hear it properly. His eyes were closed. “I’m not good with this stuff. But I…” he paused, taking a deep breath as his hands drifted up and down her sides in a soothing motion. “I read your letter.”
There it was. The thing she’d been dreading all day.
Her fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt as she inhaled sharply. “Oh.”
He nodded once, forehead finally leaving hers to look her in the eyes properly. “I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t wanna screw it up.”
“Baby--”
“I didn’t know how to answer it in, like, a normal way.”
Because nothing about it was normal.
Because she’d given him everything he believed he didn’t deserve.
“And,” He chuckled to himself, “I was too busy making sure the kids could stay with Marnie and I knew how to make salmon without poisoning you.”
Daisy took a step back, not enough for his hands to leave her hips, but enough to look around the room further. “You did all of this… because I wrote you a letter?”
Shane chuckled again. “No, I was uh… I planned it last month.”
“Shane Maxwell Cooper,” Daisy smiled, pushing herself closer to her husband and letting her fingers tangle in the hair on the nape of his neck. “You planned a whole romantic dinner for me a month ago?”
Shane blushed, looking down to avoid the playful smile spread across her face. “Yeah.”
“Oh, don’t be bashful, love. You did amazing.”
“I dunno, the salmon could still poison you.”
She laughed, the sound light and bubbly as she grinned at him. She kissed him again, only for him to tap his fingers against her side and pull away.
“Wait,” he breathed, fully removing himself from her grasp. “There’s more.”
“More?” She asked as he turned to open the junk drawer next to the fridge and fumbled briefly before coming back with a small velvet box and an envelope. It looked almost comically expensive in his calloused hands.
Her stomach flipped as she looked between the velvet box and the envelope with her name scribbled across the front in his handwriting.
“Shane…”
He grimaced. “Just… open it. Please.”
She reached out with shaking hands to take the velvet box first. She cracked it open slowly, as if she were afraid that whatever was inside might bite.
Inside was a thin gold chain. Simple. Delicate. Three small letters were attached to it.
E. J. B.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, thumb running across the delicate E. “Ethan,” she whispered.
He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the grout between the tiles on the floor. “You said one time he was your first kid,” he muttered. “Figured that doesn’t just… stop being true ‘cause he’s…” he gestured helplessly.
He took a moment before continuing. “And… and Jas and Bailey, obviously.”
Obviously.
She laughed, the sound watery now. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the necklace out of its box to get a better look. It reflected in the warm candlelight.
“And you can… uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You can add to it. If we ever…”
He trailed off. She waited patiently for him to find the words.
“If we have more kids,” he finished quietly.
The words hung between them. Because there he was, speaking of a future he never thought he’d get to have. Letting himself imagine the possibility of later, when now used to be something he wanted to forget. It was hopeful and terrifying and real as they both stared down at the delicate chain he’d picked out with intention and care.
“Put it on me?” she whispered.
His eyes snapped up to hers, wide and searching, like he wasn’t sure if he’d overstepped. Like he was bracing for her to laugh. Or cry. Or say it was too much.
She didn’t. She just turned around, carefully lifting her hair out of the way. He stepped forward, tucking the envelope under his arm as he grabbed the chain.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he fastened the clasp. They were warm. Rough. His thumb lingering against the junction of her neck and shoulder for a moment as she adjusted the chain to sit just below her collarbones. The necklace fit perfectly with her mothers locket.
When she turned back to face him, his eyes stayed fixated on the necklace. At his wife standing in front of them, brandishing the initials of her—their babies. Even if one of them was a six-foot-five 25 year old. His throat bobbed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he admitted quietly.
She let out another watery laugh.
“Thank you,” the words she spoke were barely a whisper, stuck in her throat as she willed herself not to let tears fall. Happy tears. Relieved tears, maybe.
She reached for his hand, squeezing it once before looking down at the envelope still in his other hand.
“And this?”
He stiffened, fingertips going white as they dug into the red envelope.
“That’s, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wrote you back.”
She took it gently, like it might fall apart if she wasn’t careful.
“You don’t have to read it now,” he interjected quickly. “Or ever. I just… I needed to write it.”
She traced her name on the front with her thumb.
“I want to,” she said softly.
But not yet.
She wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek against his chest. “I love you.” Her voice was muffled by his button up. “So much.”
One of his hands rested against the small of her back, the other finding the back of her head as he pressed his lips against her hair.
“I love you, too,” he spoke against her head, breathing in the scent of her perfume and shampoo and the long day of work. He took a moment to hold her like that, silence enveloping them. The only sound echoing through the kitchen was the tick of the timer on the counter and their slow breathing.
After a moment, he spoke again. “You wrote all that stuff about being proud of me. About… watching me be a dad. About being scared I’d disappear.” His voice caught, thumb brushing against the back of her neck. “I don’t forget that either. I love you so much it scares the shit outta me sometimes.”
She lifted her chin, looking up at her husband with tears in his eyes as he stared at the wall ahead of them. “Shane-“
“I’m still here,” he continued. “I’m not going anywhere. Not from you. Or… or this. I want to be here.”
Her cheek rested back against his chest, right over his heart. It beat fast and alive and real beneath her ear.
He held her closer.
And in the quiet glow of their kitchen, with the candles burning low and his arms around her like he never planned to let go, Daisy realized she’d never been foolish for loving him out loud.
Because he loved her the same way.
He just needed a little time to say it.