“Not as beautiful as you.” I carry her over the threshold, doing this all sorts of wrong, but hell, I haven’t asked her to marry me, and the only reason I haven’t is because she’s one stubborn woman and I’ve just now got her to move in with me. Even that took some serious smooth talking. It wasn’t like she didn’t practically live with me anyways, it was just getting her to come to terms with it. Once she did, Dove was all in.
“Trace,” she purrs, and I know if I keep holding her, Dove will never see the house, so I reluctantly put her down.
“Go take a look around, take notes of what needs to be done and what you’d like to do to the place,” I tell her. This is another battle we had, it ended with both of us naked and sweaty. It also gave her the understanding that while I was a rodeo clown, I socked away every dime I could. The only reason I stopped was because of Knox getting injured. It was an eye-opening experience, and she knew that too. Well, after I explained it to her. It was staggering when she finally got the grasp that this was my way of taking care of us and our future. There was nothing else she could say, except for that she’d do everything in her power to pull her weight in our relationship, even if it’s not financially yet. Those were her words, not mine, and they had me rolling my eyes.
My mother never had a job, not a day in her life. My father didn’t think anything badly of it, she helps in other ways. She’s his emotional support, she’ll help him pick apart things that could benefit the farm, she did her best raising us boys, and my father makes sure she knows just how much we appreciate her. That’s the same damn thing I’ll do for Dove. Till I take my last breath on this earth, she’ll be my end all and be all.
Eighteen
Dove
“What in the fresh hell? This can’t be happening, can it?” I whisper out to no one in particular. My period hasn’t ever been regular. It’s been really weird lately, like last month, it lasted for a day, if even that. This month, it said, ‘See you later, alligator.’ Which is why the stick I just peed on is telling me it’s positive.
I drove an hour away to purchase the five tests I have cluttering the counter right now. There was no way I was going to add fuel to the fire if I bought them in town. The number of tongues that would wag, and everyone would know before myself or Trace. Speaking of Trace, I already know how he’ll respond to it. Even when we talked about how my body may or may not have a hard time falling pregnant, he just shook his head like there wasn’t a care in the world. It was either that, or he took it as a challenge, and now the answer is definitely staring at me with all five tests, all of which are positive.
“Holy shit.” I’m doing some deep breathing, but this is surreal. “I’m going to be a mom.” My hands drop to my stomach. I’m in a state of awe.
“Sugar.” The door swings open to the bathroom. This is not the way I imagined telling Trace we’d be parents.
“Fuck, is that what I think it is?” His voice is thick with emotion. I look up at him, tears in my eyes, and nodding so vigorously I probably look like a bobblehead.
“Yeah, it’s exactly that. Surprise?” I ask, almost hesitantly, unaware why because the way Trace is looking at me conveys every single thing he’s thinking.
“Hell of a surprise, a good one too. You ready to be a parent, sugar?” he asks, cupping my cheeks, his thumbs catching the tears that are rolling down my cheeks.
“So ready. Are you?” I ask. Trace can’t keep up with the number of tears I’m shedding. I try not to laugh, but it’s ridiculous, the two of us standing in his small bathroom celebrating something so important.
“Fuck yeah, glad now that the house will be move-in ready soon. Shit, our moms are going to be over the moon and have everything planned before we have a say in anything, you know that, right?” I love everything about Trace, especially the moments he can make me laugh when all I want to do is cry.
“I know that. We’ll have to get our dads on them if they get too rowdy. I love you, Trace McCray.” This isn’t the first time I’ve said those words to him, though I don’t think it counts when he’s asleep in bed. After he’s worked a long day on the ranch and then works me over, I always whisper those three words to him, not caring that neither of us has said them out loud to one another. No, the way we love each other is more than with words—it’s in the way we care, the things we do with love, and this moment right here, it was time for me to voice them, this time first. Since, you know, it took him weeks of relentlessness for me to move in with him.