One side of his mouth tipped up, barely, but I saw it. “You have,” he admitted solemnly, “which is why I’m going to miss you so much, but I’m happy for you too.”
“Being two things at once is hard,” Rosalie’s words and smile were brittle. “I’m torn too, Ford,” she admitted, “especially now that you’ve found the woman strong enough and warm enough to stand at your side and build a family to be proud of together.” She shot me a smile and winked, her tone turned teasing, “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure I would ever see the day.”
Ford chuckled and I could see the triumph in her eyes. She looked at me again and I could practically hear her instructions.Get him to laugh more often. Don’t let him work himself into the dirt. Ride the lows and celebrate the highs.
“I’m just going to miss you,” Ford’s words were rough and my heart melted for him.
“I’ll be back to visit you, I promise.” He nodded, but I could still see the pain in his expression, the loss he was bracing for. Her voice was sure, but soft, “It’s time for a new era at Sagebrush. I know you’ll work together, build a family, and get the next generation ready to take over when it’s time. The cycle continues, life goes on.”
I hope I can live up to everything Ford needs because he’s certainly more than I ever expected.
It was only a matter of days before Ford, all of his ranch hands, Rosalie, Kendrick, and Eliza showed up at my door ready to help me pack and to get all my stuff moved out to Sagebrush. Now, we’ve been living together for a month and slowly tackling the easy things we wanted to change around here.
The first thing I did was get all of the furniture out of the drawing room. Drawing room; what pretentious crap. Nothing should be in a farmhouse, one which sits on a working ranch, which has people thinking twice about sitting down.
When it’s all done, the drawing room will be a den. It’ll be cozy and business associates as well as family and friends will feel equally comfortable sitting there and spending time.
We’ve made a plan for getting the things done that will require a contractor. Ford wants to tear out some walls, but he knows the bones of the house are solid.
Just like the life we’re building here, together.
It might be solid, but I still feel like I’m going to throw up at any moment. At this point, I’m not even sure how long I’ve been standing in front of the vanity while staring at the six pregnancy tests in front of me.
I thought one was going to be enough, but I still unwrapped all six. Just to be sure when the first test was certainly sure enough.
And every subsequent test has said the same thing.
Pregnant.
“I’m pregnant,” I try out the words, a whisper that is loud in the silence of the bathroom.
“Arden?” Ford calls out to me right before pushing the bathroom door open.
I don’t have the chance to even consider hiding the tests because he’s there next to me before I know what’s happening. His whiskey-colored eyes are locked on the tests lined up in a perfect row as if that somehow matters considering the gravity of the situation.
Ford picks up one of the tests and brings it far too close to his face considering it’s been in contact with my urine. My face scrunches up and I reach for it, but he holds it up too high for me to reach.
With a pout, I cross my arms across my chest and wait.
“You’re pregnant,” he breathes out the words like he can’t believe he’s saying them out loud.
Emotion rushes through me and my arms drop to my sides. It’s not easy, but I manage to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“I’m pregnant,” I confirm.
He puts the test down on the counter like it’s precious before his arm hooks around my waist and he’s pulling me flush against his chest. My hands come up and brace against him and I watch the emotions flit across my man’s face.
“Our family is growing,” his voice is husky and his eyes are glassy.
I’m being lifted and carried back into our room where he puts me back on my feet. When he’s standing next to the bed, next to where I know he still keeps all my letters, he pushes my shoulders gently until I’m sitting on the edge.
He gets down on his knees in front of me, the action feeling like sacrifice and reverence at the same time.
He slides a ring out of his pocket, and I gasp at the size of it. “Ford Conners,” I admonish him, “please tell me you have not been carrying around a gem that size in your pocket.”
The smirk on my man’s face is devastating in the best of ways.
“I’ve been looking for the right time to slip this on your finger, and I can’t imagine there being a better one.” His large hand slides over my belly which shows no signs of the life growing inside me. “Please be my wife, Arden, my Sunflower. Please,” he begs. “Write me letters until we’re old, fall in love with our land over and over again, laugh and love with me right here, and make this place a home with me.”
