“Chris didn’t belong here anymore than I did. Chris was a businessman. He did a lot of things like going out and partying and dancing and going to fancy dinner parties where I was the weirdest one at the table. And he loved these kids. You know he never even got to meet Chrissy? We didn’t even know yet.”
“Jesus.” Ellis had figured that the littlest one hadn’t had much time with her otherdad, but damn.
“Right? It’s fucking insane. Knowing that your surrogate is carrying the baby that your husband, who desperately loved babies, will never see. Imagine being there when your little girl is born, and you realize that not will she not remember her dad, but she’ll never have even seen him. Like ever.”
“I’m sorry, man. I—” Ellis had to shrug. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“I can’t either.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “You want me to sell them?”
“Huh?” Ichabod looked at him, eyebrows going up.
“The cattle. I could sell them.”
“No. No, you said you could use them to start a herd. That would be good in the long run. For the kids. Fuck whoever did it.”
“That’s the spirit.” He grinned, moving to touch Ichabod’s arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s go eat some casserole.”
“Sounds good.” Ichabod straightened, chin lifting. “I do love me a good casserole.”
Chapter Nine
“Oh my God, I am so full I can barely breathe.” Ichabod leaned back in the kitchen chair, his hand on his belly, which he felt stuck out like a snake’s after they swallowed large prey.
“That was so good.”
“Thank you. I’m here all week.” Ellis bowed from the waist up, grinning.
After the cattle catastrophe, the uncomfortable conversation about how much the entire cowboy culture hated him, and a host of casseroles between. Ichabod felt as though they had all bonded.
So they ate together a lot, and tonight, Ellis had cooked. Chicken-fried steak fingers with gravy, green beans, rolls, and macaroni and cheese. It was a feast.
Ichabod wasn’t a bad cook — but he tended toward chicken fingers and burgers, meatballs or pastas. This had felt like diner food, almost, and he was loving it.
Hell, even Zane had eaten and had taken his plate to the sink without a single complaint.
It was either a miracle or a terrible portent. Often, a quiet,compliant Zane was a Zane who was plotting something, even though he’d been on his best behavior when Ichabod had needed him to of late.
But, to be fair, while they were trying to find hands to work on the ranch, Ellis had asked for more help, and Ichabod had assigned chores to the little girls, giving them a chart he could hang on the wall with gold stars, and more formal lists for each of the boys to make money with. The structure seemed to be great for all of them, even Zane.
Michael was totally interested in helping Ellis around the ranch and specifically with the animals, while Zane was much more interested in hanging out with the girls and helping around the house proper.
He wasn’t sure if it was because Zane wasn’t interested in helping Ellis per se or whether his eldest simply didn’t like the ranch life. He didn’t remember Zane being particularly interested when they’d visited Vic, to be honest.
Should he know that?
Did he suck as a parent?
Being a single dad was so fucking hard.
“You cool?”
“Hmm?”
Ellis shrugged. “You’re like a million miles away.”
Ichabod chuckled and shook his head. “I was worrying about the kids. You know what, that’s not exactly true. I was worrying about me, and whether I’m doing a good job raising these guys.”
