“What about his mom?” Cassie asked, realizing she’d never thought about his parents before. Mayor Burns had always lived in her mind as this singular entity who simply materialized into existence. Until recently, she didn’t even know his first name.
“Anne?” Luke said thoughtfully. “I think she moved back to Washington after her husband died, to be near her family.”
“Isn’t Bryce her family?”
“Yeah…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. “Let’s just say they never saw eye to eye.”
“Then I’d probably like her,” Cassie teased.
“You’d love her. She and my mom used to be good friends. They hosted a book club together when I was a kid. She’d be glad you stepped in to save the library.” He briefly took his eyes off the road to meet her gaze. “I know I said this earlier, but it bears repeating. I’m really proud of you, Ru.”
The tender way he evoked her nickname sent a pleasant ripple down her spine. Even though they’d settled into the comfortable rhythm of married life, he could still melt her in an instant with little more than a simple word or touch. Would all that change if they had a baby on the way? She reached inside her pocket, guilt making her palms sweat. She needed to tell him.
“I never want Poppy Creek to lose its heart and soul,” he continued, unaware of the smoldering secret between them. “This town, exactly as it is now, is where I want to raise our kids.” He cleared his throat. “You know, whenever we’re ready to have kids.”
“Luke, stop the truck,” she blurted, unable to wait a second longer.
Startled, he punched the brakes. “What’s wrong? Did you see a deer?”
“No. I—” She hesitated, suddenly at a loss for words. How did she even begin to explain? “I, uh, need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Can you park up ahead?” She pointed toward a small clearing on the side of the road.
He tossed her an uncertain glance but did as she asked.
She reached for the overhead light then remembered the bulb had burned out. Or had the wiring fried? She couldn’t remember. Either way, the truck had been falling apart for years and needed to be replaced, but it had belonged to Luke’s father, so he refused to part with it. His sweet, sentimental side was one of the countless qualities she loved about him. And one of many that would make him a wonderful father.
Tears welled in her eyes at the thought, and she blinked them back, fumbling for her phone.
Focus, Cassie.You don’t even know for sure if you’re pregnant.
“Cass, what’s going on?” Luke asked, concern creeping into his voice.
“I need more light.” She yanked her phone from her purse, frustrated to find another dead battery. But what did she expect when she’d spent half the day Googling everything from pregnancy symptoms to preschools?
Pulse racing, she shoved open the passenger door and slipped into the dim moonlight. The cold night air wrapped around her, making her shiver.
“Where are you going?” Luke switched off the engine, and the low growl gave way to an eerie stillness save for the quiet chorus of crickets.
Trusting him to follow, she scrambled toward the beam of the headlights, her heart pounding, her stomach swirling. For an instant, the world seemed to sway, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the ground to stop spinning beneath her.
She’d delayed the inevitable all day, afraid of the finality, but now, the urgent need to know the truth—one way or the other—seemed to suck all the oxygen from the air.
The sound of Luke’s boots crunching on the loose dirt and gravel stopped a foot or so away. “Cassie?” He spoke her name softly, his question lingering on his lips.
She opened her eyes. Her husband stood before her, the ever-steady pillar she’d learned to lean on, no matter the storm. He never wavered, never faltered. And yet, she’d let her insecurities and fears keep them apart.
“There’s something I need to show you.” She dug her hand in her pocket and retrieved the pregnancy test, keeping her fingers wound tightly around it.
“What’s—?” His voice fell away and he met her gaze, his expression searching,hopeful. “Is that—?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting to find out.”
He bridged the distance between them, stopping toe-to-toe. She felt the heat from his body, felt his eagerness. He placed a hand on her upper arm, the firm, comforting pressure of his palm radiating through the thin fabric of her cardigan. Suddenly, every sound—the rustling of the wind in the trees, the rhythmic croak of the bullfrogs, even her own heartbeat—all seemed louder and more distinct.
This was it. The moment of truth. The moment that would define the rest of their lives.
