11. Bliss
Bliss
I scoot forward on the truck seat as we pull down the long, familiar driveway to my home.
I could nearly cry at the thought of moving away from here. I’ve lived here my whole life. Yet I’ve agreed to marry Zane and live in his house—a crucial part of the agreement.
What was I thinking? I won’t have Grandpa over there to chat with or tell about how Mom is pushing me to the brink of insanity.
But all it takes to ground me in reality is remembering the steady string of single men Mom has been parading in front of me. Yup. I’m perfectly happy marrying Zane and moving in with him.
As we round the last corner, the house comes into view. My dad’s truck is there, so at least we won’t have to chase him down and tell him the news before Mom tells all of Pine Ridge.
We’re about to tell my parents that we’re engaged. I’m nervous.
I look at Zane as he parks the truck. His eyes meet mine, and we nod once.
He says, “It’s your last chance to back out.”
“Well, I mean, not last chance,” I reply, then immediately regret it.
I didn’t think about the fact that he had already been left on his wedding day. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, but he quickly covers it up with a cheeky grin.
“I guess that’s true,” he says.
He’s giving me the option to brush over what I said, but I don’t.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
“Just because something happened a long time ago doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”
His forced smile slips from his face, and he nods slowly. “Yeah, well, I appreciate you saying that.”
“I’m sorry, and I promise I will marry you,” I tell him.
“I have a feeling you keep your promises.”
“I do. I’m kind of boring like that.”
He chuckles. “You’re anything but boring, Bliss.”
We climb out of the truck and walk up the sidewalk to the house. Zane reaches for my hand, and I cling to his like a lifeline.
Everything is about to change, and somehow, Zane has become my safe spot in the last month.
The front door swings open, and my mom is standing there, waiting to greet us.
“I’m so glad you two are here tonight,” she says. “I just finished making a big batch of rolls; we need somebody to help eat them.”
I deliberately reach up to brush my hair from my face with the hand that’s holding my engagement ring. Mom doesn’t realize it at first because she’s busy smiling at Zane like he’s God’s answer to her prayers.
I try combing my hair back again, hoping she’ll notice it this time. I practically have to slap my forehead before she focuses on my hand.
“Bliss Eloise Jefferson, is that what I think it is?” Her tone hushed, as though she’s afraid that if she says it too loud, she’ll scare the ring away.
“Are you …” She scrutinizes Zane and me. Then she looks as though she might faint.
I start laughing. “Mom, have you seen an engagement ring before?”
She lets out an ear-piercing shriek, then pulls me into a big hug. “I knew this would come someday, but I was losing hope,” she says.
Zane laughs loudly behind me. If my mom wasn’t holding me in a bear hug, I would give him a glare.
But then Mom releases me and turns her attention to Zane, giving him a big hug as well.
Dad walks around the corner from the hallway, followed by Grandpa. “What’s going on in here?”
I hold up my hand and wiggle my finger with the ring.
Mom’s crying on Zane’s shoulder now, and Dad just smiles.
“Well, good for you two. I hope you’ll be happy.”
“Does this mean I can have your room?” Grandpa asks.
“Oh, please.” I sigh. “You might as well say, Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Grandpa.”
He smiles, but I swear his eyes get misty.
Mom has stopped crying and is now smiling at us with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Come into the kitchen and eat some rolls while you tell me all about it. I can’t wait to hear your proposal story.”
We follow her into the kitchen, single file. Grandpa’s bringing up the rear. I check to make sure he’s coming with us and not already claiming my room.
When he moved in with us, we purposefully gave him the biggest room so that he wouldn’t feel cramped. Except he learned my small room had a better view of the sunset and has been angling to kick me out ever since.
“I just don’t even know what to say. I’m so happy!” Mom exclaims. “Zane, I remember the day your mom had you like it was yesterday. And to think, you’re marrying my daughter. Oh, this is wonderful.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Sometimes, I forget that Mom has been friends with Dee, Zane’s mom, for so long.
There are going to be a lot of different dynamics with marrying Zane than I ever anticipated.
Zane smiles warmly at my mom, and there’s nothing but kindness there. “My mom has told me the story of that day several times. And how if it hadn’t been for you, she would have had to deliver me all by herself.”
Mom smiles. “I wasn’t about to let her last baby be the one born in a barn.”
Zane laughs. “She also told me never to ride with Mrs. Jefferson unless I was ready to ride in a rocket.”
Mom laughs good-naturedly. “In my defense, I didn’t want to be the one delivering you on the side of the road.
We barely made it to the hospital in time.
Your dad must have driven even faster because he got there a couple of minutes after you were born, and he had come all the way from Stars Ridge. ”
Zane fakes a shudder. “My dad is a scary driver when he’s driving slowly. I can only imagine that day. It’s a miracle no one was hurt.”
Mom lays a platter of rolls on the counter, and I grab the tray of butter from the fridge.
Dad reaches into the fridge and grabs a couple of beers. “Want one, Zane?”
“Not tonight, sir. I have to check on a cow-calf pair tonight.” He glances at the coffeepot. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll make myself at home and make a pot of coffee …”
I smile at him, and it feels easy to do. Nothing fake or forced about it. There are so many things we haven’t discussed yet. Drinking is one of them. But if he’s careful not to drink anything before he drives—even if it’s only one beer—I can respect that.
“I’ll make you a pot,” I offer as I reach for the coffee bean jar out of the cupboard.
Mom always puts it on the top shelf, and I got the short genes in the family. I’m shorter than everyone else by a solid three inches. Grandpa tells me I got every bit of my Grandma’s five-foot-four genetics. I jump up, trying to knock the jar close enough for me to grab.
I freeze when something warm presses against my back. Zane is standing right behind me, grabbing the jar and setting it on the counter for me. He didn’t even have to go on his tiptoes. I can feel his chest firmly against me, and a flush of heat spreads through my body.
I turn slowly to look at him, and I know I can’t fight the blush overtaking my face.
Zane reaches a hand out to comb my hair behind my ear, and I’m hyperaware of each spot his fingers brush against.
I gasp when I realize I’ve stopped breathing. My fiancé is so attractive that he literally takes my breath away.
How am I going to survive sharing a house with him?
“Aren’t they so cute together?” Mom coos.
At least somebody is happy with this turn of events.