I know the look on Cassidy’s face well. I can bet she’s internally cursing the doctor for putting her on pelvic rest right now.
“No need to cook. I’ll grab us pizza on the way. Meet you two there.”
“What the fuck,” Cass silently mouths at me, her eyes the size of toonies. And the moment Dave’s gone, she’s tugging me by the shirt collar, forcing my lips onto hers.
Balancing pizza and pop in my hands, I plunk down next to Cass on the couch, handing her the biggest slice of pepperoni I could find in the box.
“You know ‘light activity’ doesn’t mean I can’t leave the couch, right?”
“But you don’t need to because I’m here.”
“What next? You baby bird the pizza to me?”
“If you’re into…” I stop myself from offering because Dave walks into the room. He already witnessed the doctor stare into my soul as she told me I was absolutely not allowed to give his daughter an orgasm for the next two weeks. That’s more than enough awkwardness for one day.
We eat pizza mostly in silence. Then Cass assumes her normal position, feet on my lap and twirling loose hair around her index finger. I tuck the blanket around her and press my thumb to the ball of her right foot. We’ve spent hours sitting exactly like this, watching her reality dating shows, but I feel like a zoo animal with the way Dave’s staring us down. Narrowed eyes swinging like a pendulum between his daughter and me.
Thankfully, I don’t need to talk, because Cass doesn’t stop long enough for either of us to get a word in edgewise. Her eyes shimmer in the warm lighting, and there’s an unbreakable smile creating small wrinkles around her eyes. She tells her dad about the shed I built, describing every detail, periodically glancing in my direction. Then she launches into telling him about the lengthy list of orders she already has from all the guys at the ranch—orders she’s eager to start on, since she’s officially on medical leave from work. His expression is soft, full of love and awe, as he soaks up every word out of her mouth.
When she finally comes up for air, I know I need to say something, even though it’s going to crush her spirit. “So, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get the shed moved down here within the next couple weeks. I’ll talk to the guys and see if I can recruit them, but it might be tough to get it done in time. I’m sorry.”
“Well, what if we don’t move it at all?” she asks, startling me so my hands stop massaging her feet. “I-I was thinking it might be easier if I stayed at the ranch with you? If that’s okay, of course.Notin the bunkhouse, though.”
“Of course that’s okay. I’m fine coming here, too. You know that?”
“I know. But it’s been on my mind since the first night I drove out there. I’ll be on maternity leave, so I don’tneedto be in town. Then you won’t have to commute, I have the girls there when I need help, and I can do my leather working. I know I have dad here”—she nods her head in the direction of Dave, who’s being unnervingly quiet—“and Blair moves back soon, but they both have to work. It would be nice not to sit here by myself all day, every day.”
For a beat, I’m afraid to respond. Waiting for Dave to say his piece. Expecting he’ll protest her plan. But he doesn’t.
Spending every night wrapped around her in bed and waking up smelling her shampoo, is all I’ve ever wanted. “If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. Where’s the baby gonna sleep, though?”
“She’ll be in a bassinet next to the bed for a while. Then we’ll figure it out.”
“Okay.” I nod, not bothering at all to hide how happy I am. Cass rakes her nails up my forearm, signaling she feels the same way. “Okay, I’ll see if some of the guys can help move stuff.”
“Red, I can help, too. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Dave.” I squeeze Cass’s foot under the blanket at the same moment her fingers tighten around my forearm.
Cass is single-handedly making me the man I want to be. She’s salvaging the broken pieces from the wreckage, sifting through the bad and finding the good, loving me despite the fact I’m a mess.Maybe,a little voice in the back of my head chirps—a thought I’ve been dismissing aggressively before now—maybe I can be good enough for Cassidy.Maybe I can be everything she needs. Maybe I can be her dream as much as she’s always been mine.
33
Cassidy
37 weeks (baby is the size of a bucket of chicken)
Sitting at my work bench, I carefully line up and punch holes into the last belt order from the ranch hands. There’s still a saddle, chaps, and a purse for Cecily on the docket—but, thankfully, my customer base is essentially family with how they’ve welcomed me onto the ranch so quickly. They’re understanding about a potentially long wait.
As unorganized as ever, Blair’s been frantically preparing for her move next week. As a result, most of our calls lately have been like this one. Me working in the shed, and her packing boxes. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we just quietly work within camera frame.
It’s during a quiet moment, shortly after a gripping conversation about the logistics of marrying somebody at first sight, that I get a painful cramping in my stomach. I shift side-to-side in my seat until it dissipates. A few minutes later, again. Then again. All through our debate about whether my best friend is packing correctly—she’s not, which is why I should be there to help her. Until it’s been an hour, and the agonizing feeling of a too-tight elastic band stretching across my stomach is evidently not stopping. In fact, it’s getting worse.
“So, hey, Blair. I think I’m having contractions.”
“You’re what?” She wipes the back of her hand across her sweaty hairline, pushing the loose hair from her face.
“I’m…” The sentence pauses against my will. It takes every morsel of brain power to push through the discomfort. I bite my bottom lip until I taste iron as the pain radiates across my stomach and down through my groin. After a few seconds, I’m able to breathe again. “Yeah, I’m having contractions.”
