I’m not going anywhere.
Whether she choosesme…that part isn’t mine to decide.
26
I’m restless.
We’ve had a long day with my family. After the scan, we walked them around the ranch. Grandma went absolutely gaga over Santi and Rio, who happened to be tacking up horses for a trail ride. There was a cougar in her eyes at the sight of two tattooed Latino cowboys, fully in command of their steeds.
She’s insatiable.
As for my mom, the safety of the ranch, the impressive nature of what Santi and Rio explained they do—the interrogations didn’t stop with Anton—and thelunch we had at Café Luna all worked together to relax her. Enough that she might actually believe I’m okay. For now.
It’s only eight o’clock, but my feet are ready to be off the floor, and my back is ready to be horizontal. Still, all I can think about is Anton.
Everything about him at the scan today screamed he’s worth it. I think I’m ready to talk.
He’s in his room. I could knock, but my mom and grandma might hear from the guest room. I should probably wait until tomorrow, when my family leaves and we’re alone.
I decide a snack is in order. Something chocolatey to offset the swirl of emotions and hormones today kicked up.
Why I’m checking how I look in the mirror before heading downstairs is another question entirely.
But honestly? I’m glowing. The stress of the scan has washed away. I’m wearing the fitted maternity nightgown Grandma gave me, and somehow, my hair hasn’t frizzed despite the humidity. I smell like my vanilla body lotion.
Plenty cute enough for a date with the fridge.
Not wanting to disturb my mom and grandma, who turned in early because of their ridiculous flights in the morning—my mom actually has court tomorrow—I pad down the hall in fluffy socks, past Anton’s closed door.
There’s a sliver of light beneath it.
I want to knock. Invite him for a midnight snack. Talk about our girl. Names again. He was so damn swoony today with that promise he made to her. I’d even be proud for her to have his name.
But maybe he needs rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Still, I walk a little louder than usual past his door, even though I know that as an ex–Navy SEAL, he could hear abutterfly out here. He’ll know it’s me by the cadence of my stride, by the weight of my steps.
God, I love that about him.
I head downstairs into the quiet kitchen. The air still smells faintly like breakfast—muffins, citrus, Anton.
I open the fridge and take out the plastic container of muffins and set it on the counter. The lights are low—just the pendant over the sink casting a warm glow. I peel back the plastic and wince when it crinkles too loudly.
Hopefully, my mom and grandma are settled in upstairs because they’re not the ones I want hearing me and finding me down here.
Today showed me every reason Anton is more than a friend, whether I want to resist that or not.
I’ve fallen.
After today, there’s nothing about us that feels scary.
No fear of losing my independence.
No fear of my career suffering.
No fear of being overlooked or disappearing inside a relationship.
The only thing that lingers is my own history with myself. I’m thirty, and I’ve never really been in a long relationship. But damn if I don’t want to try.
