She laughed, though the sound was breathy, distracted. “Borrow.”
I held her hand as I led her across the few feet of dead grass to the base of the tree.
Her neck craned back to look up the trunk. “How long did this take you?”
“I stopped here on my way home from the ranch for the last two weeks. Lost count of how many I strung up. But in total? Probably ten hours.”
Her mouth popped open, wide eyes moving to me. “Why?”
A confused chuckle escaped me. “Why?”
She nodded, dead serious.
“Because I love you, Parker.”
Her lashes fluttered as I grabbed both her hands, facing her.
“You did this when we were younger, when you found out I didn’t have a tree to light in our house,” she stated slowly.
My chin bobbed in confirmation. “Wasn’t as grand as it is now, but it did the trick.”
“You hooked up the extension cord to a generator you’d stolen from your dad’s garage.”
I smiled, remembering my dad’s frown when I drove home that night and found him waiting for me in the driveway. “I told him why I’d taken it, and every Christmas after, he left it out front of the garage for me.”
“You made the holidays magical,” she recalled, the lights reflecting brighter off the moisture building in her eyes.
I shrugged. “I think that was you.”
She rolled her eyes, and I tugged her closer.
“Parker, I want this. I want lights in the yard and a house full of chaos and pumpkin candles and family dinners. I want these traditions with our son.”
A tear slipped past her lash line, sliding down her cheek and dripping onto the back of my hand.
“Our son,” she whispered.
“Yes, Parker. Our son.”
Her bottom lip quivered before she sniffled and threw herself at me, looping her arms around my neck and pressing her lips to mine. “I love you too, Beckham.”
My hands gripped her waist as I kissed her under the lights. My fingers tugged on the fabric of her dress, feeling her under me like it was the first time.
Then I pulled back. “One more thing.”
The laugh that tumbled from her was happiness and nerves wrapped in one tiny bundle.
I jogged the short distance to the truck and grabbed the bag from the back seat, then moved back to her. I handed her the present, blue tissue paper clumsily shoved into the top. I’d have to get better at wrapping before the baby came.
“What’s this?” she pondered aloud as she plucked the paper out. I held it for her, and when she reached into the bag and pulled out the gift, I took the bag from her as well.
The folded piece of fabric unraveled as she held it up, and she pressed her lips together, holding back the emotions I was sure had swam to the top.
“For our baby,” I told her, though the ivory onesie with little horses and lassos on it was explanation enough.
With one last look, she balled it into her fist and hugged me. She pressed her cheek to my chest, right over my heart, and it nearly burst.
“I love it. I loveyou,” she mumbled into my jacket.
