And just like that, it was settled.
We’d put the farmhouse on the market last month and already had two offers.
The screen door creaked behind me, and I turned to watch as Cassidy stepped onto the deck.
She was wearing one of my flannel shirts, the fabric stretched tight across her belly, and her hair was piled up in a messy bun. The warm glow from the cabin windows lit her from behind, turning her into something golden and soft.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Scoot over,” she demanded as she lowered herself into the chair beside me with a small grunt, one hand pressed to the small of her back. “Your daughter is doing gymnastics on my bladder.”
I handed her half of the Kit-Kat. “Maybe she’s practicing for the rodeo.”
“Don’t you dare joke about that. If she kicks any harder, I’m going to pee myself.” But she was smiling as she bit into the chocolate.
Cassidy was six months pregnant.
We’d conceived right away, maybe even that first time on the deck when I’d finally stopped fighting what I wanted. The doctor said everything looked healthy, and our little girl was growing right on schedule.
A little girl.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around it sometimes. Me, a father. The quiet lumberjack who’d spent years watching life from a distance, too afraid to reach for anything real.
I put my hand on her belly and felt a tiny kick against my palm.
“There she goes again,” Cassidy covered my hand with hers. “Maya’s going to be a handful. Just like her daddy.”
“I’m not a handful,” I teased, knowing full well I was.
“You literally tackled your best friend to the ground because he asked me on a date.”
“Amos deserved it.”
She laughed, that light sound that had become my favorite thing in the world, and leaned her head against my shoulder.
We sat there in comfortable silence, watching the last light fade from the sky. Stars were starting to appear, scattered across the darkness.
I thought about our wedding day. We’d gotten married at the Little Pink Wedding Chapel, run by Becky and Leland.
Cassidy had worn a white dress that made her look like an angel, tears streaming down her face as she said her vows. Her parents had sat in the front row, her mother crying too. My folks had been beside them, my dad giving me a rare nod of approval.
Amos had been my best man. He’d only madethreeinappropriate jokes during the reception, which was practically a record for him.
At the time, I’d thought it had been the best day of my life. Then afterward, as we’d settled into the quiet routine of a life together, I’d realizedeveryday I got with this woman was the best day of my life.
Damn, she’d turned me into a fucking cornball. I’d better watch out, or she’d have me crying over rom-coms within a year.
And soon I was going to be outnumbered.
Ladies… two.
Dudes… one.
But who was keeping score, right? And maybe after we got used to baby number one, I’d work on settling the score. What would it be like to have a mini-me running around?
He’d be the roughest, toughest little boy on the mountain. He’d come out of her already holding a saw in his hand and wearing a tiny flannel shirt. I chuckled at the thought of it.
I’d name him Brock.
