Swear (Landry Family 4)

“What about him?” I shrug. “If he needs my help, I’ll give it to him. Of course I will. But . . .” I lean close to her. “I hope I find myself as a married man in the next nine months and can bail out on the travel arrangements because my wife needs me at home.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“You think there’s a chance I wouldn’t?” I laugh. “Look, Barrett is my family and he always will be. That goes for all of my siblings. But, make no mistake, you and our baby are now the most important thing in my life, bar none. No one comes before you. Period.”

She blinks back a fresh round of tears.

“Come here.” I pull her into my side, kissing the top of head.

“I want to apologize to you,” she whispers against my shirt.

“Stop.”

“No, hear me out. I’ve told you I have trust issues and I’ve blamed them on you—right or wrong. I’ve pointed out all the things I want to do with my life.”

“Things you will do with your life,” I correct her.

“Will do. Yes,” she whispers. “We’ve both done stupid things and said dumb things and gotten scared for various reasons. I want you to know I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Seriously, stop,” I say, squeezing her.

“It’s important for me to know you know that. That you know I recognize how amazing you are. You check off all my boxes.”

“Your boxes?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughs. “Thank you, Ford, for sticking with me.”

“Thank you for being so stick-with-able.”

She laughs, planting a kiss to my sternum. “We should be celebrating right now.”

“We will, but we have months to think about that. Right now we need to honor your father.”

“He didn’t want a funeral,” she says, her voice cracking. “I hate that. He felt so alone the last few years, and he just expects me to just toss him in the dirt.”

“I tell you what,” I say, “if you want to do a funeral, you do a funeral. He can’t tell you no.”

“What if no one comes?”

“Does it matter?” I ask. “It’s your way of showing him the respect he deserves.”

“Will you go with me to plan it?” She looks at me through her thick lashes. “I can’t go alone.”

“Baby, you never have to go anywhere alone again. It’s me and you.”

She turns to me and buries her head in my shoulder. “I feel really alone right now, Ford. I know you are here and I appreciate that so much. But . . . it’s just me. My parents are gone. I’m an only child. It’s . . .”

Pulling back, she wipes her eyes with her hand. “I don’t want our baby to be an only child,” she whispers.

“So you’re saying you want me to give you a houseful of children? Sold.” I grin at her and am relieved to see her smile back. “I’ll give you anything you want as long as you keep giving me those smiles.”

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, and she looks back at the garden. “I don’t want you to think I’m just saying this because of what just happened with my dad . . .”

I’m almost afraid to ask. Almost. “What?”

Her looks at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. For not trusting us.”

“Hey. It’s okay.”