Page 32 of Flint

“Who said anything about getting married?” I ask, my voice tight. She can’t be serious. I can’t marry Flint. What if he leaves?

The look she gives me is filled with glee. “Oh, sweetie! You fell in love with a cowboy from Courage County. You’ll have a ring on your finger and be knocked up by Christmas. It’s just how they are here.”

“You don’t know?” I ask softly. I figured that in his excitement, Flint would eventually slip up around Cord and tell him about the baby. It’s why I’ve been so nervous about talking with Mira. I didn’t want her to feel like I was intentionally keeping her in the dark.

She completely missed my question. She’s still mentally planning our future. “Now, do you know what color you want the nursery to be? I’ve been thinking of green for mine, but I’d be happy to coordinate with you. Maybe one of us does a forest theme and for the other, we do a sage green. Vintage garden meets Victorian melancholy with just a dash of⁠—”

“Mira,” I call her name softly, my throat tight. When she found out Stuart was cheating on her, she talked about being almost thirty and wanting kids. Now here I am on my third and even though I shouldn’t feel guilty, I do. “We’re not together.”

She waves it away. “Small detail. Flint will take care of it. Bet he’s already picked out a ring for you.”

“We’re not together,” I repeat. “But I did get pregnant.”

She freezes then, and my heart squeezes. She’s the one person I never want to hurt. We’ve been there for each other through all the painful, hard moments. But in true Mira fashion, she’s up and around the table. She squeezes me in a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

“I’m so happy for you!” She whispers.

Tears prick my eyes. Here I was worried about her reaction, and her first thought is to be happy for me. She’s the kind of best friend you feel fortunate to have for the rest of your life.

She hugs me for a long moment before she plops into the chair next to me and says, “Tell me everything. How far along? How long have you known? Do you have a name picked out?” She lowers her voice. “Shit, I’m sorry. Does Flint know? What did he say? If he wasn’t supportive then I’m going to kick his ass, and Cord is legally obligated to help me, whether it’s his best friend or not.”

I chuckle, though it’s a watery sound. “He was so sweet. He has been since the moment he figured it out. Even before that. He’s…he’s the kindest, most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. Besides Dad.”

“So, then you’re marrying him.”

“No, I’m not doing that! Right now, we’re just…roommates. Me and the kids and grandma are staying with him until my cabin is fixed,” I explain even though it sounds weak to my own ears.

She opens her mouth.

I sigh softly and admit the truth, “We’re doing everything out of order, the baby and living together and him meeting the boys. We barely know each other, and I don’t want to overwhelm him and have him disappear to Thailand.”

She frowns. “You think Flint is that kind of person?”

“I think the girl who pledged to love Richard forever didn’t understand that sometimes people are really good at hiding behind a mask for a very long time,” I swallow hard. “I have kids, Mira. Really amazing kids and I don’t want to see them hurt.”

She takes a sip of her iced coffee. “I know what it’s like to be cheated on and betrayed by the man you think you love. I’ve been there, but I don’t know what it’s like to have kids in the mix when that happens, so I’m not going to say anything or make you pretty promises.”

“Thank you.”

“All I’m going to say is that I’m here for you, whatever you need. A listening ear, a babysitter, future wedding planner, whatever it looks like. I have your back.” She gives me another tight hug and whispers, “I’m your sister for life.”

Chapter 15

Flint

“Boys, what have you done?” I ask as I survey the spilled cat food scattered throughout the grass. The two of them had been playing near the cat shed, and it looks like they spent that time opening the food bags and spreading it everywhere.

They went shopping with their mom yesterday and came back chatting about their boots. They were both so damn proud, strutting around in them then trying on mine. It made me laugh to see that, and I reminded them one day they’d need big boots too.

“Meow,” Branson says.

“Use your words,” I tell him, borrowing one of Ronnie’s phrases that she uses with the boys. I can’t figure out why on earth they’d open up the bags and put food all over the place. It doesn’t look like it was spilled but purposely spread out.

“We can’t. We’re cats now,” Brock answers with a huff.

“No, you’re not, silly,” I grab the empty feed bags and toss them into the nearby recycling bin. My boots crunch over the dry pellets with every step. I have more cat food. I’ll call Kane and have him run it up here.

Before I can reach for my phone, I see Brock’s chin wobble. “I wanna be a cat.”