Page 29 of Cowboy

The issues rest in the risks—heart concerns, skull abnormalities, developmental delays—and those were just concerns for the baby. Personally, I could develop high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, or pre-eclampsia. Even worse, though, is the possibility I could miscarry. I could lose the baby and all the trouble I’d been to Bull would be for nothing.

He’s been so good to me. Every night, we have dinner together like a real couple. No late-night dashes off to a local bar for a quick bite. No takeout ordered in for one while my other half works long hours. Bull and I sit at a table together, with a home-cooked meal before us, from either Carly or Bull himself. He’s an amazing cook, and I’ve felt guilty that I don’t offer more home engineering. I’m terrible at domestic deeds as I proved the other evening when I tried to make Bull chicken in a skillet and burned the outside while the inside was still raw.

He’s also been more than generous with his home. We’ve continued to dance around close calls in the hallway and finding too much comfort on his couch. I’m sleepier than I’ve ever been, and Bull is like a giant heating pad. Too often, I’ve found myself slumped over against his shoulder, snoozing in the early evenings when he physically works twice as hard as I do.

“I totally understand the desire for purpose,” Rita says, looking at me over her cup. She’s been struggling herself lately, as she’s been saying for years she plans to retire from her law practice in Montpelier. She hasn’t found that thing either—that passion—to push her forward on a new path, though. “But have you considered that where life leads, you can shift your priorities and motherhood might be the next great adventure for you? Maybe motherhood is your next great purpose.”

“I . . .” I actually hadn’t thought of it that way. I’d always been so career driven without a thought for children that I hadn’t considered being a mother could be a role in my life as well. Rita watches me as I wrestle with my thoughts, uncertain how to answer her. I’m stumped.

“Let’s talk about Bull,” Rita prompts, releasing me from trying to decipher motherhood and how I see myself fitting that future role. “How are things going with the hunky heifer king?” She wiggles her brows. As she knows all my secrets, I admit the truth to her.

“We’re waiting to find out who the father is before we do anything . . . between us. I have a doctor’s visit soon, and we’re going to discuss a paternity test then.”

Rita lowers her afternoon treat and stares at me across the couch. “You mean to tell me, you’re living with that hunk of cowhide and not riding him?”

I snort. “Rita, I swear . . .” She says the damnedest things.

“Well?” Her voice rises.

“No, I am not sleeping with him.” We cuddle on the couch sometimes, but that’s not what Rita means. Even that is more than we should be doing because each night I settle in next to Bull, I don’t want to separate from him when it’s time for bed. I never liked sleeping pressed up against Shelton. We actually didn’t curl into each other like we once did when we were young, keeping to our own sides of the king-sized bed we used to share in our marriage. The experience would be different with Bull. I’d want to be touching him. I’d want to be near his heat, pressed against his skin. I’d want to hear his heartbeat.

“Is that paternity test safe?”

“Considering I’m at high risk because of my age, I’m not sure. I’m not even certain how it works exactly, although I looked it up.” Somehow a sample is taken from both Bull and the baby. I’m not convinced it’s entirely risk-free and I’d like to discuss options with the doctor. “Either way, Bull’s attending my next doctor’s visit with me.”

“So, things are going well, even if you aren’t heating the sheets with a hot man,” Rita teases as her eyes narrow in on me. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I like him. He’s a great guy.”

Rita snorts herself. “Great guy? That’s like saying someone has a nice personality.”

“What do you want me to say? When he looks at me, I feel like he wants to devour me. Or how I can’t take my eyes off his body even when it’s as simple as him walking across a room. Or how I miss the way we were together that one night, putting us into this possibility of being connected forever.” I glance down at my lower belly again.

“It’s crazy. It all seems like too much too soon.” I huff. I’m not even officially divorced yet. If all goes as planned, Shelton and I only have another six weeks.

“Everything happens for a reason,” Rita says, and my head pops up to look over at her. It’s a phrase she lives by. I’d argue against it if I didn’t suddenly believe that this unplanned pregnancy at such a late-in-life age meant something. Even if I don’t know what the reason for such a life shift could be, I can’t deny I’m happy with this directional detour.

“What do you know about Bull and all those proposals?” It’s something he still hasn’t explained to me.

“I think you should ask Bull. It’s always best to go to the source rather than believe all the hearsay.” Rita tips a brow at me, hinting at my past profession. I’m just curios as Roderick said something to me the other day as well. He was sweet in his warning, telling me not to believe all the gossip in the community, but he was equally concerned that I protect myself.

“He’s been called the perpetual proposer and there’s something behind the fact he’s been engaged a few times.” Roderick was not speaking ill of Bull or even trying to perpetuate the rumors but looking out for me. He knows my condition. He knows my position, and he knows Bull and I are living together, platonically.

“Let me know how that works out for you,” he teased as he fell for his roommate and they’ve been together ever since.

“So, back to the original matter at hand. Are you really thinking of looking for a new job in entertainment news?”

“Don’t you think I should?” I question, as I don’t want to keep taking advantage of Bull. I need to plan as if this child isn’t his, because if it isn’t, he’s going to want me to leave. He’ll want as much separation from me as he can possibly get.

“I think purpose and passion are what you make of it. And there’s nothing wrong with being a mother and pouring coffee for a little longer,” Rita says, reaching out to pat my knee. “It certainly gives me purpose that you work here. I get to see you more often.”

I’ve really missed my friend and decide a little more time at the Busy Bean Café is just fine with me as well. Besides, I have her to thank for bringing me to Vermont and introducing me to Bull.

10

Heartbeats

Bull