Texas Big Man
“One of the many reasons that I love you,” she says. “And I do. Love you.”
I lean down to kiss her softly, enjoying the feel of her underneath me while both of us are under the open sky. “The christening isn’t done,” I say. “We need to toast.”
“If only we had something to toast to,” she jokes.
Her laugh is the most precious sound in the world. “I don’t know, I think we have some good options. To the house? To the engagement? To your fucking amazing body?”
“How about,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow, “we just toast to this glorious day? The first day of the beginning of a beautiful life together.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, and after we both drain our glasses, I put them aside.
“Mel, I am about to make this day a whole lot more glorious, because just now, that fucking, that was just the beginning today. Tomorrow the tractors pull up and we’ll have company on this ranch, but today we’re alone, we’ve got nothing planned, and I want to hear you scream all day long.”
I spread her legs apart, lowering my mouth just above her clit so she can feel my breath.
I don’t wait for her to say yes before devouring her.
Epilogue
Melena
Six months later
Harlan really did choose the prefect spot for this house. The view across the lake is gorgeous, especially on days like this when puffy clouds fill the sky and there’s a breeze that takes the sting of the heat out of the air. I’m watching with relief from the front porch as the last of the tractor trailers leave the property, putting an end to the last six months of noisy and nonstop construction. Harlan and I will have two weeks alone before the ranch’s staff arrive, and then another two weeks before the first guests visit. Trevor and Harlon really pulled it off, and if we’re right, this ranch will be one of the most popular family destinations in Texas within a year. The guest accommodations are beautiful, and the big house has been restored to its former glory. The lower level is one large dining room where guests will load up on country fresh breakfasts before they go out for a day of riding. And the kitchen where Harlan first made me breakfast now rivals any kitchen in a big city hotel. Upstairs in the house, there are bedrooms for the staff. And even two working showers!
We’ve been in our house now for two months, and I still can’t believe that it’s ours. I find myself running my fingers over all the fine finishes that Harlan designed, staring admiringly at the mantel that he built himself from rocks he found at the local quarry. I can’t wait until we have a whole bunch of framed pictures up there of our kids and our wedding day. So far, all that’s there is a selfie we took the day we officially got engaged. It’s not a fancy engagement picture like most couples have. In it, you can only see us from the shoulders up; shoulders down would have been indecent. We’re toasting to the camera, the blue sky behind us, my engagement ring sparkling, laying on the spot where the fireplace sits now. It may not be traditional, but I’ve realized I’m not as traditional as I once thought I was, and the picture is perfect. Because we both look radiant and so excited for our future.
Harlan didn’t complete all the construction by himself as he’d wanted to do, because a couple of months after summer ended, we got a little surprise. Two pink lines on a pregnancy test. Harlan decided he wanted the house completed by the time the baby arrived, so he hired some help to build the house. It didn’t come as too much of a shock that I was pregnant since we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other. Who knew that my dreams of love, marriage, sex and baby would be so happily upended? And in just five months or so, I’ll have a picture of my baby to add to the mantel. Funny enough, it’ll rest right next to the picture already there of the day he was likely conceived. And one day, we’ll add our wedding picture. Maybe when the baby is old enough to walk down the aisle with us. Our little ring bearer.
Today I was meant to be writing, but instead on the notebook page in front of me is a list of possible names for our son. Our son. Mine and Harlan’s. It still seems like a dream. For sure it’s not something that I ever could have imagined a year ago. I rub my hand over the swell of my stomach. I’m really starting to show now, and I’ve started to feel him kick. It’s a crazy sensation—one that I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. But I’ve never been happier.