“We are going to figure it out,” I say, and she just shakes her head. “Tomorrow, we can call the insurance agent and talk to them.” She doesn’t say a word, and when we leave, she kisses Ethan goodbye and just leans her head on the window in the truck. When we pull up to the house, she gets out while I grab the bags and walk up the steps.

Unlocking the door, I throw down the bags and sweep her off her feet, and she gasps out in shock. “Got to carry you over the threshold.”

“You had to do this the night of the wedding,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I don’t think it matters now.”

“Our home,” I say, walking in. “We make our own rules.” She puts her head on my shoulder while I kick the door closed. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” she answers softly, and I know that the whole arson thing has thrown her for a loop. It’s thrown us all for a loop.

I carry her upstairs, and she doesn’t say anything for most of the night. The only time she comes alive is when I make love to her, and then she gives me everything she has. I wake up the next morning, and the spot next to me is empty. I sit up, and I have this sudden panic that she is gone until I smell coffee and bacon. I get up, grabbing my boxers to slip on, and then make my way downstairs to find her sitting at the island with papers in front of her. “Morning,” I say, kissing the back of her neck. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven,” she says, and I see her wearing one of my white robes. “I made breakfast, and it’s in the oven.”

“What time did you get up?” I ask, pouring a cup of coffee.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been up most of the night.” She shrugs. “I tried, but I finally gave up at around three a.m.”

“What is all that?” I point at the papers.

“This is me trying to figure out how I’m going to rebuild the bar.” She puts all the papers together. “It was worth some equity, but that is with the bar on it. Now it’s just land.” She blinks, and I see the tears in her eyes. “I’m going to go into the bank today and see what they say.”

“We can figure it out,” I say. “I have money. You know that.”

She looks over at me. “I’m not taking your money, Beau.” She shakes her head. “Not now, not tomorrow, and not next week.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I’m your husband.”

She avoids the question altogether. “What time do you have to go in today?”