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“Not at all, I already had a marriage to a man like that and we spent most nights not talking about our dreams, but rather our plans, and by that I mean, spreadsheets and contracts and — that’s not what I mean — I would be at least as happy if you said you wanted to play music at a coffee shop or wanted to paint.”
He chuckled. “I hae heard yer excitement when ye are competitive, Blakely, if I said I want tae play music at a coffeeshop I guarantee ye would be lookin’ for a record label within the day, wantin’ me to be a superstar.”
I laughed. “You know me so well. I do that, but I am not going to do that. I can stop, and it depends, I think, on how talented you are.”
He laughed. “Then we are safe, because I am nae talented at all.”
“So is this a deal breaker?” I frowned, exaggeratedly, “I am a dreamer and a planner and you think that’s a mistake—”
“I just daena want ye tae get yer expectations up, Blakely, I am afraid I will be a disappointment tae ye.”
“Did something happen today with the phone call with Naisha? Because you seem to be in a mood.” I smiled to cut the tension.
“Och nae, ye sound just like Naisha.”
“She is a smart lady.”
“The bill for one of our suppliers was due. It is the normal worries.”
The oven timer went off and I jumped up, “Hold that thought, but also, can you let me look at the folder?”
“I daena ken if...”
I stood over him, the timer beeping behind me. “I am practically your wife. How are you going to let me not see your folder? I thought we shared everything!”
“Fine, I will get the folder but ye canna hold it against me.”
“I won’t.”
I got our plates served and carried them to the coffee table in front of the fire, where we were sitting on the floor at two corners. He pushed toward me what he called a folder but that was more of a beat-to-hell, bulging, three ring binder with papers sticking out of all sides.
He poured some wine in my glass. “Ye’re goin’ tae need it.”
I took a bite of steak, and said, “Yum.”
He took a bite. “Och, tis verra good, we did well.”
“True that.” I leaned over and kissed him. Then dropped back in my seat, but while I did that I pulled the folder closer to me.
“Ye are artful.” He placed his palm on it. “I just... Woodshee, ye ken, I am worried ye are going tae think on me as a failure—”
“I’m not. Do you know how much I love you? And you have watched me fail. You picked me up off the trail a third of the way. Did you think less of me?”
“Nae, I thought even more of ye, I was verra proud of ye, but this is different.”
I wiped my fingers off on a napkin. “Not really. Think of me, right now as your emergency contact. This folder is the bear that’s snuffling outside your tent. Let me see.”
