Chapter 22
God and Grilled Cheese
Wheeler
I don’t see the little parcel on top of my laptop until I sit down at my desk beside Mollie at the New House.
“What’s this?” I ask. It’s about the size of my hand and is carefully wrapped in the wax paper I recognize from the kitchen. Patsy will use it to wrap up leftovers for us after meals.
The parcel is warm.
Mollie shrugs, pops another Ritz cracker into her mouth, and makes a muffled sound that I interpret as I don’t know.
We just got back from taking a quick ATV ride to check on the progress of the new Bellamy Brooks studio we’re building here on the ranch.
It’s coming along swimmingly, and the views from its perch above the Colorado River are especially stunning this time of year.
“Something tells me you do know.” I carefully unwrap it, my face splitting into a smile when I see the grilled cheese sandwich inside. It’s cut on a diagonal, and when I split the two sides, the cheese oozes out in a yummy golden avalanche.
A rush of heat hits the backs of my eyes. This morning, I woke up craving grilled cheese. No clue why. Maybe because I dreamed about Aspen? My dreams have been vivid—and vividly horny—lately.
Whatever the case, I shared that info with Duke while we had coffee earlier this morning. Well, he had coffee, and I had peppermint tea, because sadly coffee has become one of the many things that doesn’t agree with me at the moment.
I fully expected him to be gone when I woke up at seven. The cowboys start their day early so I thought I’d make myself breakfast, then head up to the New House to work with Mollie.
And Duke was gone. But when I responded to the “good morning, how are you feeling?” text he sent me at four forty-eight a.m., he showed up ten minutes later at the door in his full cowboy getup and demanded I sit while he made me tea and buttered toast.
That’s when I told him about the grilled cheese craving.
Now, several hours on, I’m wondering where the hell he found the time to make it for me.
I pay attention to everything, sweetheart.
“Aw.” Mollie runs a hand over my back. “Are you gonna cry?”
I shake my head, even as tears leak out of my eyes. “I’m not gonna cry. This is just a sandwich. I don’t cry over sandwiches.”
“I’ve been instructed to tell you that while Duke didn’t make the grilled cheese himself because there’s a lot of fences to mend before the summer grazing season begins, he enlisted Patsy’s help.”
“And Patsy would like you to know that she’ll happily make you anything you want, whenever you want it.”
I jump at the sound of Patsy’s voice. Glancing over my shoulder, I see her poking her head in the door, a wide smile on her face.
Does she know I’m pregnant too?
Does everyone on this goddamn ranch know?
My stomach clenches. It doesn’t bother me that everyone around here is knit so closely into such an, ahem, communicative community. It’s actually pretty sweet. But now everyone is going to know whether Duke and I keep the baby, and the last thing I want or need is people’s judgment.
Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of their excellent hospitality.
“You’re too freaking kind.” I quickly wipe my eyes and stand, crossing the room to wrap her in a hug. “Thank you so much. How have you been?”
“Busy but good.” She gives me a squeeze. “With the wedding coming up, we’ve got a lot on our plates. We hope you’re planning to come.”
My stomach clenches again, for a different reason this time. “That’s right! How exciting. I’ll do my best to make it. I appreciate y’all thinking of me, truly. Sally and Wyatt are so cute together. I’m happy for them.”
“Of course we thought of you.” Patsy pulls back and puts her hands on my upper arms. “You’re family, Wheeler.”
But I’m not.
Really, though, I feel more at home among the Lucky River Ranch crew—more comfortable, more seen, more taken care of—than I have in years at my actual home with my actual family.
Hi, God, it’s me, Wheeler. Question for you—can one ditch their biological family, perhaps with the exception of a younger brother, and adopt the Rivers-Powell-Luck people as their new family? Asking for a friend.
“How are you?” Patsy asks.
Do I beat around the bush? Or do I let her know that I know that she knows that I’m pregnant?
“I’m…okay.”
She nods, her eyes kind. “It’s literally my job description to feed you all, so really, if anything sounds good—or bad, for that matter—just say so.” She reaches up to thumb away a tear. “I’m also here if you ever want to talk.”
I’m gripped by the urge to do exactly that. At the same time, I feel a pang of sadness. I want my mom. She’s the one who should be here right now wiping away my tears. She’s the one I should be able to confide in, to look to for guidance.
I also don’t want to overwhelm her any further or upset her. She’s been through so, so much. Why add to the pile if in all likelihood I’m going to end up not keeping this baby?
And in all honesty, I’m not sure I want her advice. I love my mom dearly, and she was a good parent to us. But I definitely don’t want her life, which is why I’m so invested in making different decisions than she did.
I also don’t want my dad to find out. Even though he and Mom aren’t getting along at all right now, I know she’d tell him. And I know he’d flip his shit. I don’t need him to scare me; I’m already terrified.
“I appreciate that, Patsy. Thank you. And thanks for the sandwich.”
“Anytime. I gotta get lunch going. Holler if you need anything, all right?”
I smile. “All right. Tell Sally I said hey.”
“Tell her I’m brainstorming her wedding day boots!” Mollie calls after Patsy’s retreating back.
I land heavily in my chair and take a bite of the grilled cheese. It’s all I can do not to moan. Patsy knows what’s up. The sandwich is buttery, rich, just the right ratio of bread to cheese.
“That looks really good,” Mollie says. “Can I have the other half?”
I nudge the wax paper toward her. “All yours. I get hungry, and then I eat because if I don’t, that’s when I start to feel nauseous. But then I get full really quickly so I can’t finish the meal I started. I’m finding it’s best if I kind of graze throughout the day.”
“Exactly how I felt my first trimester. Keep snacks handy. Or, really, keep a thoughtful cowboy around who feeds you just when you need it.”
I close my eyes, tears spilling over again. “Fucking Duke.”
“Fuck that guy. How dare he think of you?”
“Rude.”
She scoffs. “Dump his ass.”
“Good thing we’re not dating.”
Mollie pauses as she takes a bite of grilled cheese. “Damn, that’s good. You know what’s not good?”
“What?”
“You sabotaging yourself like this. I know you like him. I know you’re wildly, indecently attracted to him. He’s good to you. You’re good to him. Why not date the guy? I mean, even your biology is begging you to make him your boyfriend.” She nods at my stomach.
I roll my eyes while I polish off another bite of my sandwich. “You know why.”
“You and Duke aren’t gonna end up like your parents, Wheeler.”
“But that’s just it, Mol. This is exactly how my parents got together. Their marriage—they did it for all the wrong reasons.”
“But think about it. You’ve been trying to sabotage your nonrelationship with Duke since before you were pregnant.
You were clearly into him before this all happened, so it’s not like y’all hit it off just because a baby is in the picture.
” She drops what’s left of her grilled cheese onto the wax paper and grabs a tissue from a nearby box, which she uses to wipe her hands.
“Look, I know your parents well, but obviously I wasn’t around when they met and got together.
From my understanding, they thought they were doing the right thing.
It was a different time, and it happened under different circumstances. ”
“True.”
“But I think the biggest difference is that your parents weren’t friends. Obviously they were lovers—”
“Jesus Christ, can you please not use that word in reference to my parents?”
Mollie grins. “You get what I’m saying, right?
Maybe Tim and Frannie had chemistry, but they weren’t friends.
They didn’t talk to each other the way you and Duke talk.
They didn’t have shared interests. I think they did love each other at one point, but did they ever like each other? ” She shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
My heart hammers. I’ve never thought about my parents’ relationship that way.
I always knew they weren’t well suited for each other.
Dad is obsessed with work and golf, while Mom loves music and her sisters and books.
My parents would occasionally go out to a concert, and every so often, they’d get us a sitter so they could attend parties in our neighborhood when we were little.
Beyond that, though, I don’t ever recall them doing something fun together. I really don’t remember them talking to each other about anything other than work, my brothers and me, or the house.
They had a shared life, but shared interests? Not really.
“Now you and Duke, on the other hand—wouldn’t you say y’all are friends?” Mollie asks.
I can barely hear her above the thump of my pulse in my ears. “I mean…I don’t know. I think he’s a hookup more than anything else, right?”
Mollie shoots me a look. “Do hookups take note of your cravings and then call in a favor to have that craving fulfilled?” She nods at my half-eaten grilled cheese.
“Do they drive twenty hours across the country during a snowstorm so you can make it to a trunk show for your business? Do they move you into their adorable cottage—”
“The cottage is really freaking cute.”
“And make sure you have a bed and clean sheets and curtains and peppermint tea?”
I furrow my brow. “How do you know about the tea?”
“Where do you think he got it from? I had a stash at my cabin.”
My stomach is doing somersault after somersault. Oddly enough, I don’t feel nauseous, however. I feel…