“She just wants a grandchild before she dies.”
“Jonas doesn’t count?” I rock Hazel gently, tucking her thin receiving blanket over her feet. While the day washot,it cooled off quickly post-sunset.
“Nope. Nothing like that ever counts until the oldest sibling does it.” He shrugs impishly. “Sorry about your luck—looks like you’re having a baby because I know you can’t say no to Grandma Dorothy.”
“Considering I haven’t had a long-term relationship in over a decade, it’s insane she still has hope.”
“Not a single one?” He looks at me like I just informed him that I’ve recently grown a tail.
“Never. Not since you.”
“Me neither.”
I snort. “Yeah, I’m well aware, thanks. People love telling me about the parade of women in your life.”
“Bear, I can’t take back the fact that I was with other people, and I’m sorry you heard all about it. But before my bronc ride, I thought I saw you near the chutes. And everything—everyone—else stopped mattering at that moment.” He shuffles his chair closer so our thighs are touching. “That’s all I can offer you. The promise that I was completely yours fromthe second you stepped back into my life. Can that be enough for you?”
I think for a second, looking down at Hazel, then out at the dance floor. It’s not fair to judge Denver for whatever he did while we were apart, especially when I wasn’t exactly running a nunnery. But jealousy is afucking bitch.With a hard swallow, I kick the green-tinged emotion from the back of my brain to the curb.
“It’s enough.” I reach out and pat the top of his thigh, over the spot where his tattoo is. “It’s enough, Den. Do you ever think about how things could’ve turned out if I hadn’t left?”
“Every day of my life,” he admits quietly. “The house we’d have, how good it would feel to come home to you every day, our kids.”
With a slow musing nod, I smooth a hand over Hazel’s soft red hair. “We could have athirteen-year-oldright now. That’s wild to think about.”
I haven’t let myself dwell on that piece of history in a long time. It brings a rush of pain, and longing, and self-loathing—saudade.And my eyes burn when I stare down at the sweet baby in my arms, then over at the man who would’ve made an amazing father, had I given him the chance.
He runs the thumb of his free hand across Hazel’s cheek. “I think about that the most.”
Cassidy comes traipsing toward us, fanning herself with her hands, and Red’s hot on her heels. She bends to pick up her peaceful baby from my arms and stops short, clearly noticing the glassiness in my eyes.
“You okay?” she says under her breath, quiet enough the guys can’t hear, while sliding a hand under Hazel’s head.
“Yeah, we were just reminiscing, and I’ve had too much wine.” I half-smile, blinking back the tears and plucking dress fabric away from where it’s clung to my stomach. “Denver? Do you want to dance with me?”
Wasting no time, he jumps to his feet and takes hold of my hand, leading me to the center of the dance floor. My arms loop lazily around his neck, and he holds tight to my waist, a hand splayed over my lower back. He motions something to the DJ, and mid-chorus, the song’s cut short, replaced by a beat I don’t recognize at first.
But when it hits me, I give Denver a look. “You didn’t ask for my favorite karaoke song because you wanted to get to know me, did you?”
He laughs. “MaybeCecily and Austin were talking about a wedding playlist in the kitchen, and I offered up a suggestion. Come on, Fancy. Sing it.Don’t let me down.”
Shaking my head, I start singing quietly, only to him. And he beams at me.
“If I close my eyes, it’s like Reba is right here in front of me.”
“I hate you. You know that, right?” I tease.
“You don’t hate me. In fact, I bet you think I’m the best catch here, and you’re trying to think up a way to ask if you can have my babies, because they’d be top-tier children.”
With a laugh, I twirl around in his arms. “Thatwouldmake Grandma Dorothy happy.”
“You’re in luck, because I hate disappointing grandmothers,” he says, fitting my body against his again. “But you know what’s great about us not having those kids yet?”
My mind gets entirely hung up on the way he talks about a wedding and kids with so much confidence, like they’re simply an inevitability. And after years of thinking I’d forever be Auntie Blair, stuck in an “always the bridesmaid, never the bride” situation, there’s comfort in how sure he is about us. Lost in the way his words calm fears I’ve never had the courage to say aloud, I’m not even the slightest bit tempted to remind him we’re supposed to be taking things slow. We both know we never really were, anyway.
I twist my fingers around the hair on the back of his head. “The ability to sleep in? Not spending all our money on diapers and extra food? No fear about raising humans in this fucked-up world?”
“Tonight we’re staying in a cabin here, and we don’t have to worry about being quiet or sneaking around.” His fingers clench around the dress fabric just above my tailbone, and suddenly this thin slip of a dress is too much between us. His lips brush my ear, hot breath blowing against the goosebumps scattering up my neck. “I’m going to rip this fucking dress off and make you come again and again. You’ll be begging me to ease up, and I still won’t stop. I’ve had fourteen years to think about what I’d do to you if I had another chance. And tonight you’re mine, baby. All mine.”
