I hold her gaze, settling into a moment I’ve been considering for a long time. “Why?”
Mariah’s head tips back a little at my question, like it surprised her. “Because…” She sniffs. “Because these babies aren’t your responsibility.”
“I disagree.” I move closer, clearing the distance between us with a few steps before dropping to my knees, eyes locked in on the slight curve protecting the two tiny people who were destined to be mine. “I think they are very much my responsibility.” I brace my hands on Mariah’s hips, letting my thumbs stroke over her stomach as I lift my eyes to her face. “Just like their mama.”
Mariah’s lower lip wobbles. “You don’t have to say that. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I would have. In a fucking heartbeat.” I need her to know I would choose her—choose them. “Let me take care of you.” My thumb gently passes over her belly. “All three of you.”
Mariah takes a shaky breath. “You already take care of us.”
I do, but I’ve held off on boxing in what we have. Avoided labeling it because I didn’t want Mariah to feel pressured. I still don’t. But I do want her to understand how serious I am about her. About the babies.
About us.
“Officially. I want to take care of you officially.” I swallow hard, terrified she’s going to shut me down. “Put my name on their birth certificates. I want to be their dad.”
More than that, I don’t want to risk anyone trying to take them from me. Some random prick of a ranch hand showing up in ten years thinking he’s got a claim to my children.
“You would really do that?” Mariah whispers the question.
I want to answer her honestly. Tell her I want to do that and more. That the babies aren’t the only ones I plan to officially claim. But I don’t want to throw too much at her right now. So instead of asking if she would ever consider becoming my wife, I simply say, “Absolutely I would do that.”
33
Mariah
“Ifeel like I’m going to throw up.” And for once it has nothing to do with the baby—babies—hijacking my insides. “Your mother probably hates me.”
I’m sure the first thing Tobias did when he left the hospital was start making phone calls, telling everyone about the little discovery he made at the hospital. I expected Deidre to come over and confront me. To demand I explain everything before firing me and putting Titus in an awful position.
But she never showed up. Not that day or the next or the next.
So now I’m walking into Titus’s parents’ house carrying dessert like normal, hoping all hell isn’t waiting for us so it can break loose.
“She doesn’t hate you.” Titus pauses at the door, his expression serious as he says, “And I wouldn’t give a shit if she did.”
“That’s part of why I’m going to throw up. I don’t want to cause problems with your fam?—”
The door flies open and Deidre smiles out at us. “Hello, you two.” She steals the dessert from my hands and shoves it at Titus before wrapping one arm around me. “How’s it going?” She leads me toward the kitchen. “Is the renovation going well?”
I’m a little thrown off. I was expecting her to be upset.Disappointed. Maybe a little judgmental. Instead, Deidre is just like she always is. Warm. Kind.
Motherly.
She’s acted like a mother toward me from the first moment I stepped into her house, and now I’m going to lose that. Part of the reason I ran from my last job was because I didn’t want my boss Maryann to look at me the way my own mother always did. Like I let her down.
At least it wasn’t my own doing that let my mother down. She thought I would be enough to make my father want to stay with her. I wasn’t. Not enough from the moment I was born.
Now Deidre is going to look at me the same way, and I can’t run like I have before. Can’t put her disappointment in the rearview mirror the way I’ve always done. When things didn’t go the way I hoped, instead of sticking around and facing the embarrassment and the judgment, I tucked tail and took off.
That’s not possible this time for so many reasons. And I don’t know what to do.
“Why don’t you give Mariah a little breathing room?” Titus carefully extricates me from his mother’s hold, tucking me into his side. His hold on me is protective. Calming. Comforting.
It’s still not enough to soothe the fear growing within me at an exponential pace. Titus has been through so much, and his family has done everything in their power to support him. Care for him. Give him time to grieve and heal. Now he’s about to reward them with news I don’t think they’re prepared to hear.
I know I’m not prepared for them to hear it.
