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3 furrowed brows.
1 hmmm.
= what have you done with your life, my little cupcake of a girl?!
His disappointment is semi-better if sweets are involved. So I tell myself.
Ryke hangs back while I steer this sinking ship. Assured, rugged, he stuffs his hands in his leather coat, his hard brown eyes traveling along the cold, winter scenery. His tough, resolute presence reminds me that my dad’s discontent doesn’t decide my success or failure. Sure, it’ll suck if he’s still not on board, but this is for me. And I love everything about this project.
When my gaze meets Ryke’s, he mouths, relax, Calloway.
I realize I’m knotting my white cable-knit sweater-dress. I let go, the dress falling back to my thighs. Gray leggings also shield my skin from the low temperature.
I pause in place as the baby kicks my left side. “Whoa,” I say with a rising smile. That hurt but every time she or he moves, I can’t help but think: you’re restless like me, aren’t you?
I’m already in love.
“Dais?” Ryke questions, about to pass my father to check on me.
Before he reacts, I say, “All good. We’re good.” I stand straighter, feeling my dad’s gaze sweep me in parental worry. “Forward and onward.” I point ahead, continuing our trek.
My dad steps in mud.
Okay, I thought we were making the best impressions here, forest? “It’s not much farther,” I say as he trudges on a couple steps behind me. I glance at Ryke for reassurance.
He shrugs at me like you can’t fucking remove the dirt from the ground, sweetheart.
I know but failing in the eyes of a parent hurts. Even if I fool myself in believing I don’t care, part of me will always want just a sliver of validation from my dad.
“I bought a thousand acres for the camp, but I’m only using about half to start with,” I explain to him. “Safety inspections passed last week.” I bet this fact will bolster his spirit.
And…we have 11 head nods now.
“Our whole program is about providing a wilderness experience and building friendships.” I list out just a handful of activities, some of which he’s already seen. “…canoeing, kayaking, basketball, tennis, soccer, horseback riding, rock climbing, ropes courses, archery, acting, arts and crafts, and water sports. It’s all based around a camper’s personal interests. I’m tweaking the activity plans though.”
I don’t want to push anyone too far out of their comfort zones, so I’m keeping people like Willow in mind. She said that if her mom had the money, she probably would’ve sent her to a camp and it would’ve been hellish.
Kids that are forced to go, I want to take care of too, so their experience isn’t miserable.
I open my mouth to add more statistics to the camp, but I stop myself. I’ve been rambling, haven’t I?
I swallow my words, and then maybe a minute later, we finally reach the clearing with scattered log cabins. I halt next to Green Willow, the fledgling little willow tree planted nearby.
While my dad slows down in front of the cabin with Ryke, I gesture to the front door. “The inside is almost identical to the boys’ cabins. We can go in if you want?”
1 shake of the head.
Uh-oh.
I try to salvage whatever I can with more rambling. “We’re already fully booked for the summer this year.” This has to mean something to him. It’s profit. It’s lucrative.
Yes, I put years into this project. Yes, I put my heart and energy and soul. If he can’t see that, then maybe he sees this.
I watch him stare at each cabin one last time, and then his gaze pins to me. Oh…there it is.
1 full smile.
“It’s really spectacular, Daisy.”
Surprise nearly rocks me back but I begin to smile. “You think so?”
He steps closer. “I’m going to be frank. I didn’t think you’d finish this. Both your mother and I thought you threw your money at all this land and you’d give up on the idea after a few months.”
“I figured.”
His round cheeks are pink in the cold, and his kind eyes smile back at me. “I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished here and that you stuck to your vision. Even if I was a…little pessimistic.” He sports a look like he’s very aware of how negative he’s been towards my choices.
“What was your favorite part?” I ask, stifling a yawn that tries to creep its way up. I slept one hour last night. While my dad contemplates the entire camp with a faraway look, Ryke approaches my side, his hand sliding along my lower back.
He towers above me. “Take a fucking nap with me when we get home?”
I gasp. “A fuc—”
He covers my mouth with his large hand. I smile beneath it and can read his gaze. Not in front of your fucking father.
Flirting with Ryke Meadows is my favorite pastime.
It must be his too because his lips begin to rise.
“Hmm,” my dad thinks, his gaze whipping back to me. Ryke drops his hand from my mouth. “There’s a lot here, but the outside auditorium was beautiful.”
“Thank you, Keith,” I say aloud, even though the architect is not here at the present moment. “And thank you, trees and all the creatures willing to share your home with me.”
Ryke has his hand on my head. “You forgot the sky and the fucking rocks.”
“I’ll thank them later,” I say in a bigger yawn.
He leans down and kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “You have to fucking sleep.”
I’m trying. It’s not as easy with someone growing inside me. All I do is nod though. Ryke knows I’ve been doing my best.
My dad checks his watch. “I should be heading back. I have a meeting at four. Will you lead the way, Daisy?”
“Of course, forward and…” I trail off for one of them to fill in the blank. “This is where you shout onward and pump your fist into the air.” I illustrate.
In this rare beat, my dad pumps his fist towards the sky and says, “Onward!”
My heart is soaring—that he’d even try for me. “Perfect form, Dad.” I raise my hand for a high-five, and he’s smiling twice as much as he has been all day. After he slaps my hand, I turn to Ryke and the way he’s staring at me steals my breath.
“What is it?” I wonder, my fingers brushing my cheeks.
It’s not my scar he’s noticing. Or my eyes. Or my lips and hair. With tangled intensity, his hard gaze dives straight into me.
“There’s no fucking way our baby won’t love you.”
I wonder if he can feel happiness flowing through me. I wonder if he can see how much his love empowers me. Makes me feel invincible. Incredible. Daisy Petunia Meadows, the girl who can say yes and no. Who can flap her wings and fly.
My dad coughs into his gloved fist.
I tear myself away from Ryke and trek ahead. His love never leaves me, never diminishes or retreats.
It thrums inside my soul, lifting me higher.
Thunder suddenly booms. Lightning cracks the air. We all look up, a dark gray storm cloud stretching wide.
“We better fucking hurry,” Ryke says, catching up to my side to set the pace. On hikes, anywhere, I actually stop and take unnecessary detours. When I showed the guys the camp, Connor called me an overeager puppy.
Actually, he said to Ryke, “Are you aware of what yo
ur overeager puppy is doing?”
“Yeah. Let her fucking be.”
The whole memory causes the corners of my mouth to curve up—but not for long. A dull throb grips my insides. I take a deep breath and block out the cramping, shelving it in a separate part of my brain. Compared to the pain from cysts, this isn’t too bad.
My dad straggles ten feet behind us, but we’re just retracing the path and he keeps saying, “Go ahead, go ahead.”
Ryke is one step in front of me. “Falling fucking behind already, Calloway?”
“I like it back here.” I unabashedly stare at his ass, molded in his dark jeans. I miss his carabiners that he used to clip to his belt loops. They always clinked together when he walked.
I haven’t seen them in about seven months.
Ryke gives me a knowing look and then his gaze flits over my body. I wonder if my comment aroused him. I remember what happened last week and my neck nearly heats.
Ryke dropped to his knees in front of me, his lips pressing against my round stomach, so slowly and tenderly. Until that moment, I hadn’t truly realized the depth of his attraction towards the changes in my body. Towards me carrying his baby. Me being so fertile and hormonal.
I may never have this again, but I’m just really grateful for the chance to experience it once with him.
Lightning strikes again and rain trickles down on us.
Ryke picks up his pace and reaches out for my hand. I clasp his, but I slow him down a couple times. My lower abdomen cramps fiercer, and I stifle a choked noise in my throat. Maybe this isn’t my usual pain. I can’t rally my hopes and dreams of giving birth today. Most likely it’s a false alarm.
I don’t want to feel any more dejection, so I stay quiet.
Ryke keeps scrutinizing me, his concern mounting before he says, “Are you in fucking pain?”
“Dull…” I wince at that cramp. Ouch.
Ryke stops abruptly and I knock into his chest. He holds me protectively.
My dad has gained five feet on us. “I meant to tell you, Daisy. Jonathan and I almost have your wedding present ready. It just wasn’t possible within the constraints to give it to you sooner. It’s been chaotic—”
