Chapter 23 #2
I nod, processing this heavy information and the realization that Fitz has so much more on his plate than he ever let on. Like he thinks he has to curate his life to only show me the good parts.
I put my hand on his knee, and I feel the muscle tense up, almost like they’re pushing me away. I don’t move, and eventually, his leg relaxes. He lets out an audible breath.
“I hear what you're saying, but try to take a step back. You're projecting a lot that hasn't even happened. It may never happen. The best thing you can do for him is meet him where he is.”
“He’s in bed, half-comatose. That’s where he is. Skipped work without calling in. He does that a couple more times, and they're likely to can him, even if his record there’s been exemplary so far.”
“You could have called me. We didn't have to do this today.”
“No, it's okay. He drank himself silly last night, and he'll probably be asleep half of today. I actually needed the time on the road just to clear my head and get away. But the closer I got to here, the more the feeling started creeping up that I was…that it just felt far. Two hours away is far.”
I know he doesn't intend for his words to hit me the way they do, but he's right. Two hours is far, too far to have a relationship with someone, even if he is the father of your child.
But it's a Saturday, and I don't have anything planned for the rest of the weekend, so I do what I do well—I look for a way to help.
“Hey, why don't we make quick work of the baby stuff, try to check off some things from the list, and maybe bring some stuff back with you.
I'll follow you back to the ranch, and I could spend the rest of the weekend there if you feel like having company. It would be good for me to check on things at Loveland, and I love a road trip.”
I expect him to say no. He’s self-sufficient and doesn’t let me do things for him. I respect that about him. Now that I hear about how he shoulders responsibility for his brother, I understand it better, too.
It’s not all that different from how I feel about my sisters, but it seems lonelier. He lives behind protective walls that protect his personal space, and I’m not sure he’ll ever let me in.
“Duchess, I would love nothing more, but that’s a lot of driving, and it has to be uncomfortable now that you’re bigger.” His large hand comes to my belly for the first time since he arrived, and the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.
“I’m huge, aren’t I?”
“You have never looked lovelier.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine driving. It relaxes me. I’ll just need a few extra bathroom stops because this kid of yours likes to shove its feet into my bladder.”
I see that same conflicted look on his face again, the same one he had when he was trying not to tell me what was wrong. “Anything else you feel like saying?” I ask.
“I guess…I hope that wasn’t too much information. I’ve been wanting to let you know about my brother, but I'm kind of embarrassed that this is my family. Doesn’t exactly reflect well on my ability to parent, and I don’t want airing all my shit to drive you away.”
“I don’t see it like that, Fitz. You’re not his parent, but you clearly care about him. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. And you never need to be embarrassed about anything you tell me. Your struggles make me like you more, not less.”
His features go slack and he blinks at me, confused. “I don’t even get how that’s possible.”
“It just is.”
Fitz looks at the ground and says nothing. After a moment, he looks up and nods. “Can we talk about something else? Strollers?”
I nod, grateful that he shared what he did and hopeful that he won’t shut back down now that he has. “Yes, we can talk about strollers.”
Fitz takes my hand and we start walking back to the store.
When we get back inside the baby shop, Fitz is visibly calmer. He patiently looks at all of the strollers, then pulls one from the row. It’s navy blue with mallard ducks and hunter green plaid trim. “What do you say?”
“Is this for you or the baby?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Um, what if we have a little girl who doesn’t go duck hunting?”
“Why wouldn’t our little girl go duck hunting? I’ll teach her how to do it safely and how to honor the animal.” The sparkle in his eye is back, and so is the trace of a smile.
I have a whole lot to say about hunting and the thought of shooting animals is foreign to this city girl, but I decide this isn’t the time. He points at a forest green plaid. “This one?”
And then one that’s bright orange. “Or maybe this?”
I laugh. “You are really going to make a statement when you’re taking the baby out for walks. I love it.”
“Proud dad, that’ll be my statement.”
“Best statement ever.” I signal to the sales clerk, point at the orange stroller, and tell her we’d like two.
When we get back to Fitz’s ranch, I look at everything differently.
The neat hedgerows I know he’s planted and maintained, the flowers that seem so happy in their environment that they bloom year-round, the fresh paint on the porch railing.
He juggles all of these tasks while running a massive ranch that supplies restaurants across Southern California and also caring for his brother. And me.
I’m in awe when Fitz brings out the grooming supplies because he knows how much I love brushing the horses even though he probably has more important tasks than standing in the paddock feeding them carrots.
He hauls out a big bucket and fills it with soapy water. “You ever give a horse a bath, Duchess?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Maybe it’s the emotional toll of shopping for baby supplies coupled with getting a big weight off his chest, but Fitz seems lighter.
He shows me how to soap up the horses with a brush, and my heart swells at how the horses respond to him, throwing their heads and standing obediently, clearly in love with him.
I feel an ache in my heart, understanding how they feel.
I’m off again in dreamland, imagining impossible scenarios where I take only pro bono cases on behalf of people who don’t have a voice, living in a place like this. With a man like Fitz. It’s an impossible dream, but I let it bloom for a moment.
The cowboy takes her in his arms, ignoring her protests that they can only ever be friends. “I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your everything,” he growls and pushes her up against a hay bale.
She sighs against his mouth as he parts her lips with his tongue and runs a hand the length of her thigh, pausing at the top before sliding a finger beneath the elastic of her panties…
I’m caught off guard when Fitz aims the spray of water into the air, and a fizzle of drops rains down on us like morning mist.
“Hey.” I turn to see him grinning like a schoolboy, already aiming the spray at Dolly’s soapy flank as though he didn’t just get me wet.
Before I can put my protest into words, he drops the hose in the bucket and pulls me toward him with a hand around my waist. I topple toward him, and he holds me up, kissing the top of my head.
It’s sweet, but I’m still caught up in my daydream, so I turn my face up toward his. Our lips are so close that I can feel his breath like it’s my own.
“All of our rules, stipulations,” he rasps, shaking his head. “We need those, right?”
I can barely think straight with his lips this close.
A droplet of water rolls down his cheek.
His eyes probe mine, and I see his pulse thrumming beneath the skin of his throat.
“I think so. For the baby’s sake?” It comes out like a question because I’m not sure I believe it anymore.
I feel so much closer to him than I did that day we promised to keep emotions out of it.
And maybe something broke loose in him after he opened up to me about his brother.
“Or…” I press against him, my swollen belly absorbing his erection until he groans.
“Fuck, Duchess. I want to kiss you too much to play by the rules.” He doesn’t leave me time to think about whether it’s a good idea. He drops a kiss on my lips. Then another one. Lingering. Deeper.
I wrap a hand around his jaw and hold his face close for a longer kiss that penetrates my heart and bones.
It communicates everything I feel—the confusion about what we mean to each other, my fears about parenthood, the attraction I’ve had for him since we met, the gratitude that he’s given me a baby I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.
All of those emotions pour out of me as our tongues tangle and our lips search for something deeper while a fire singes my veins.
I don’t want the kiss to end. I don’t want to return to my senses. Maybe this is the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It feels right. Not dangerous or confusing. Not leading anywhere other than where we are.
It also feels right to stop when I’m out of breath and so dizzy that Fitz has to hold me up. Our eyes stay locked until I feel steady and take a step backward.
“Thank you,” I say, wringing some water from my hair.
“For kissing you or spraying you with water?”
I laugh. “Neither. For telling me about your brother earlier. I want to know you, Fitz. All the parts and pieces.”
He looks at me for a long beat and finally nods. “I want that too.”
I nod. “Good. And feel free to ask me anything you want to know.”
He looks up at the sky and taps a finger against his lips as though he’s trying to come up with a perplexing question to stump me.
“Okay. What color underwear do you have on today?” He grins, all cowboy charm tinged with only a hint of the vulnerability I saw earlier. I see it in his eyes, unguarded and warm.
A bullet shoots straight to my core.