Not that I’m keeping score.
Except that I am.
Maverick takes another huge bite. “What is dis?”
“Turkey pesto,” Iris supplies. “Isn’t it fun eating something yummy after you’ve worked up an appetite?” The three of us just finished a long trail ride on a fifty-acre horse property in Malibu—a beach-adjacent oasis that’s only five miles from our house. As in Orchard Blossom, Iris led the way like the pro she is, this time on a mare named Trixie, while I rode behind on a gentle gelding named Cheerio, with Maverick nestled safely between my thighs.
When the winding trail reached the beach, Iris galloped on Trixie for a bit, while Maverick and I stayed behind and cheered her on. Given how much Iris has been cheering me on this season, it felt good to be able to return the favor, especially in front of Maverick. I want my son growing up admiring his futurestepmom’s superpowers every bit as much as he admires mine. My smart momma taught me that.
“What’s ‘apple tight’?” Maverick asks, tilting his little head and cinching his eyebrows.
As Iris and I laugh together, she murmurs to me, “Another one for your momma’s journal.” To Maverick, she says, “I said ‘appetite,’ buddy. If you’ve got an ‘app-e-tite’, it means you’re hungry.”
“Oh, I’ve got lots and lots of apple tights!” Maverick bellows proudly. To emphasize his point, he fist-pumps the air with his sandwich in hand, prompting its turkey-pesto insides to flop unceremoniously onto the plaid blanket below.
“Uh oh,” Maverick says, looking forlorn. “My samich got messed up.”
“It’s okay,” Iris coos gently. “I’ll fix it for you, buddy. No worries.”
God, I love this woman. She’s Superwoman, as far as I’m concerned. And I know Maverick feels the same way.
Reflexively, I touch the outer pocket on my backpack to make sure the ring box is still there, and when it is, I breathe a sigh of relief. In light of what Nicola told me six weeks ago, I settled for proposing to Iris today, the day before her actual birthday. But contrary to what Nicola told me, I’m going to give Iris both her birthday presentandthe ring today.
I would have preferred to give Iris her birthday gift tomorrow night, frankly, at her birthday dinner. But what I wound up getting as her gift isn’t something that can be wrapped up, tied in a bow, and handed over in a restaurant. Not to mention, I’d much rather get to see Iris’s reaction to my over-the-top gift in private.
I touch Iris’s leg next to me on the picnic blanket. “You liked riding Trixie today?”
It’s a nonsensical question that’s already been answered—a question designed to prime the pump for my upcoming big surprise. Yes, Iris loved riding Trixie today, a fact I already know because she praised the horse exuberantly and repeatedly throughout our ride today. Not surprisingly, since when I made today’s arrangements a month ago and I asked the woman who owned the ranch to give Iris her very best horse for an expert rider, she replied, “I’ll give her Trixie. She’s our best horse, hands down.”
Iris pops a grape into her mouth, seemingly unfazed by the fact that my question has already been answered throughout the day. “IlovedTrixie,” she gushes. “I’ve never ridden a more beautiful horse in my life. Whenever we come back here to ride, I’m always going to request her.”
She’s cued me up perfectly. In fact, I couldn’t have scripted a better segue.“There’s no need for you torequestTrixie when we come back,” I say, as a shit-eating grin spreads, involuntarily, across my face. “Because Trixie’s all yours, babe.” When Iris stares at me blankly, I add, “Happy birthday, baby!”Iris still looks like the computer inside her head is buffering, so I add, “You’re Trixie’s proud owner. She’ll be stabled here, and you can ride her any time you want.”
“No, Roman.”
I laugh. “Yes, Iris.”
Understanding dawns on her, as her frantic, overwhelmed expression makes clear. Shrieking with glee, she hurls herself at me across the picnic blanket and tackles me so hard, I fall onto my back with the Birthday Girl on top of me.
“Thank you, thank you!” Iris gasps out, peppering my face with manic kisses. “You’re so generous! I love you so much! Thank youuuu!”
Belly laughing, I guide Iris to sit alongside me, and when I’ve got her face in my palms, and she seems capable of processing more good news, I move on to revealing the next birthdaysurprise. “I also bought Cheerio and another gelding named Pepper, so we can ride as a family, any time we want.”
“What?” Iris shrieks. “No, Roman.”
“Yes, Iris.”
She assaults me again with another round of hugs and furious kisses and thank-yous. Little does she know, however, I’m just getting started.
“Your daddy got you ahorse,Mavvy!” Iris shouts at Maverick. “Your very own horse named Pepper!”
I provide details about Pepper, reminding Iris and Maverick he’s the gentle, black horse Mav fed baby carrots to when we first arrived today, and my son exuberantly leaps up, jumps around like he’s on a pogo stick, and begs to go find Pepper to give him a hug right now.
“In a bit,” I say with a chuckle, as Maverick wriggles and jiggles around the perimeter of the blanket.
“Please, please, Daddy!Please.”
“After we finish our birthday picnic, buddy.”And after I’ve secured myself a fiancée.
