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Country Vows

Page 90

by Ronnie Mathews

I blink. “That’s yours?”

“It’s ours. Now you don’t need to drive around in that old thing.” He nods toward the old pickup.

“But…” My brain is struggling to keep up. “I love that truck. You love that truck.”

He snorts. “That piece of junk? It’s one pothole away from falling apart. We can scrap it. Not that we’d get much for it.”

An overwhelming sense of protection shoots through me. I edge toward the piece of junk. It’s silly to be attached to a vehicle, but this is the car Tate learned to drive in. It got us from Texas to Tennessee. We lost our virginities in this truck. And he wants to get rid of it?

“Plus,” he continues, “it isn’t safe. You’ll need something more reliable now we’re trying for a baby.”

Acid burns my throat, making my face twist.

“You’re upset?”

I blow out a breath. “I’m surprised.” And making myself sick with guilt.

“Well, the surprises don’t end there.” His wild grin returns. “Hop in. I have something to show you.”

There was no hopping in for someone of my stature. Using the automatic running board, I hauled myself up onto the passenger seat, feeling abnormally far from the ground. The engine was loud. The exhaust ridiculous. People stare at us as we roar across town.

We enter the more affluent neighborhood and pull up outside the mayor’s house.

“Don’t tell me he’s given you the keys to the city?”

Tate shakes his head. There’s that smile again. It isn’t the smile I know. It’s over the top—almost fake. “He gave me the keys to his house. Well, after I bought it off him. I received the first advance and used it as a down payment. But in a year, I’ll have enough to pay it off.”

His words should shock me. But I’m numb.

“You bought us a house?”

He nods, his enthusiasm strong, totally oblivious to my lack of.

“Tate. This is a huge investment.” I stare at the huge Tudor revival, with its pristine front lawn, curving driveway, and ridiculous number of windows. Another life decision made without my input. “You should’ve discussed this with me first.”

He frowns. “I thought you’d like it.”

I deflate at his dejected tone. “I…” I think I hate it. This house isn’t us. It’s too flashy, but I risk sounding ungrateful if I voice my true opinion. I’m afraid to ask how much it cost. “It’s too big for the two of us.”

Something in my words perks him up, and hope gleams in his eyes as he reaches over, clasping my hands in his. “It might seem that way now, but maybe one day soon, our family will grow. I know we haven’t had the results we wanted yet, but I feel it in my bones, Tally Girl. It won’t be the two of us for much longer.”

I’m going to be sick.

I’m walking through a nightmare.

I’m a terrible wife.

I have to tell him.

“Tate,” I whisper with nothing but heartbreak and regret in my words. “We can’t have a baby.”

He blinks, head tilting like he didn’t hear me right. “W-what do you mean?”

I turn to look out of the window. At the house he’s planning to fill with babies. “You’re going to leave me in a few months. You’re never home anymore. I’ll be left to raise a baby alone.” Two hearts crack under the pressure of my confession. When I turn to face him, his expression guts me, and it plummets at my next confession. “I started taking my birth control again. I think we should wait.”

I don’t know what reaction I expected. It certainly wasn’t him staying silent as he steps out of the truck. He paces, scuffing his boots over the freshly mowed grass. Pausing, he meets my gaze for a fleeting moment before tipping his head back.

He doesn’t need to say it. The betrayal and anguish slashing across his face confirm it.