Page 166 of You Fall First

“I was asking if you think Loren and Bridger’s baby will be a boy or girl. I just love that they aren’t finding out until the delivery. Kind of retro, like the olden days. When our grandparents had kids.”

“Yeah, totally,” I say. “Retro. Love.”

“So. Boy or girl? You have to pick,” she insists.

This is not where my mind is, but I can’t tell Jo why I’m distracted. Not yet.

So for now, I’ll play along.

“Dutton told me he thinks it’s a boy because he needs a brother.”

“Um.” Jo scrunches up her nose. “Who’s gonna tell Dutton this baby won’t be his brother?”

“Paige already broke the news. Lesson learned,” I say. “Don’t discuss babies with a kid over FaceTime.”

Jo laughs. “Aww. Poor Dutton.”

“According to Paige, she convinced him Bugs and Rex are good enough for now.”

As it turns out, my sister’s not only killing it at the bridal salon; she’s also rolling through parenthood like a champ.

She’s so good, she makes me want to be a dad even more than I already do.

“Well, don’t tell Dutton, but I’m hoping Loren and Bridger have a girl, since Sayla and Dex had Arlo. Just for balance. One boy, one girl.” She sighs. “But either way, their babies will grow up together, and I love that so much.”

“I love you so much,” I blurt.

“You better,” she quips, going up on her toes and planting a kiss on my lips.

Oh, man.

Beads of sweat form along my forehead, and I swipe them away. If I’m being honest, love is the tip of the massive glacier of emotions I have for Jo. How am I ever going to express everything I feel in exactly the right⁠—

“Hey.” Her eyes drift over my face. “Are you all right?”

I fumble to refocus. “Yes. Yeah, of course I am. Why?”

“You look kind of queasy. And you’re sweating.”

“Nope. Not queasy at all.”

“I was starting to wonder if maybe tonight’s fish didn’t agree with you.”

“No, dinner was great.”

“Okay, good. Because my steak was perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

“Wow.” A crooked smile slants across her face. “Perfect is a big claim, Cowboy.”

I gaze down at her, heart in my throat, diamond in my pocket. She wraps her arms around me, and I worry she’ll feel the lump of the ring, so I shift my weight, probably awkwardly.

Man.

I’m beginning to think the male species should not be the one to propose.

“You are perfect, though,” I say, clearing my throat. “And I’m the luckiest.”