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He caught my stare, wagging his eyebrows meaningfully at me. “I sure am.”
Our family bonded over me delivering a child in a barn. Soon enough, we would fill our days with diaper changes, late night feedings, and teething pains. But for now, in the quiet stillness of the goat shed where two sisters earned their livelihoods together, we found sanctuary.
When the paramedics arrived, my husband followed the gurney, and stepped into the ambulance, joining me.
A single brow jogged up my forehead. “Are you even allowed to be in here?” I asked.
He held my left hand in both of his, smiling down at me with an intensity that made my pulse race. “You’re stuck with me,” he said in a bossy tone, gently pressing a kiss to my ring finger. “Get used to it.”
As we pulled away from the barn’s quiet embrace, Riley’s stare promised to give my newborn and me the love and security we both deserved. I noticed a newfound strength with my baby in my arms and realized I was ready for anything. With our baby’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger, Riley gazed at her with tender affection. He then looked up at me and said, “I’ll always protect you both from whatever may come our way. Our family is everything to me.” His voice was throaty with emotion.
His gruff words of tenderness and protection echoed in my ears as I reclined on the stretcher, blissfully unaware of the trials that lay ahead. Staring out the back window, I saw Duke pull the barn doors closed. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to shatter our happiness.
CHAPTER21
FAITH
Acouple of weeks after giving birth to our beautiful girl, I made my ridiculous proposal to him at breakfast, hoping against hope he’d refuse it.
Riley stood next to the cozy fire he’d built for me, fists balled so tightly around his mug that his knuckles paled. His speech quaked with betrayal as he hissed, “I was never ‘faking’ it, you imbecile,” jabbing imaginary quotations in the air when he said the word ‘faking’. “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since the day we met.”
Tears pricked my eyes, threatening to spill over, and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He looked away, silent, and I sensed the tension emanating from him.
“No name-calling. Remember?” It was one of our important rules. Reminding him of his infraction just made me miserable.
Would he be happier without me? I told him over coffee I wouldn’t hold him to our marriage if he wanted out. Now that health insurance options were open for enrollment again.
Should I let him go? I’d never be a decent partner when I couldn’t focus half the time.
My obstetrician warned me, but I hadn’t heeded the advice. The hormonal roller coaster was even worse after Tabitha arrived. Mood swings beyond measure.
The tautness of his jaw belied his deep frustration with me. “You know what? I can’t wait for you to heal down there so I can feast on my pretty pussy. Daddy’s going to make you come so hard, you forget all your stupid talk about baby traps and fake marriages once and for all.” He approached me on the couch, the place where I spent most of my time, a milk-leaking, breastfeeding blob. “Kiss goodbye.” He spoke. “I’ll be back shortly.”
It was another rule. He never left without touching his lips to mine in farewell, and vice versa.
I heard him rev up his truck engine from a distance and roar away down the street.
I snatched up my phone and practiced the calming breathing exercises using the special app he installed, and lit soothing essential oils in the diffuser he bought me. Just then, the reminder he set went off, telling me when to take my meds. Usually, he put them in a pastel pillbox and stayed with me until I took them. Today, though, I ran him off before he did.
Every morning, Riley would whip up a hearty breakfast for us and scribble his “Daddy to-do list” on my favorite notepad. Miraculously, copies of the list would appear on my bathroom mirror and the refrigerator because he knew I needed reminding.
None of these things were what I expected in marrying him, but they ended up being everything I needed.
My stress was so much lower because he helped me navigate the events that were simple to most, but I found extremely tricky.
My tummy growled and I opened the fridge. Containers of healthy grab-and-go snacks he prepared sat in organized stacks. I plucked my favorites from the shelf, stacking fruit kabobs with chunks of strawberries, honeydew melon, and grapes, a yogurt parfait, and cheese with some whole wheat crackers on a tray.
Closing the door shoved in my face the daily schedule with color-coded blocks he crafted to help me remember basic self-care. If I forgot, he prompted me, “Have you eaten? Have you taken your meds? Are you drinking enough water?”
When I lay with my head on his chest as we drifted off to sleep, his heartbeat played a lullaby that soothed my soul.
Shit. What was I thinking insinuating ours was a marriage of convenience? How could I say something so hurtful to him?
He was consistently there to offer a cuddle if I was frustrated, light a calming candle when I got stressed.
He respected me.
Cared for me.
