Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
HE'LL MAKE A WONDERFUL FATHER.
KINSLEY
Eavesdropping on my boyfriend and the woman claiming to be pregnant with his baby wasn't on tonight's agenda, but here I am.
I don’t want to hear Brittney profess her love for him or talk about how excited she is to have his baby, but I have to listen.
I have to hear it all and not from Wyatt.
I don’t want his explanation of things. I want the honest, unfiltered truth and the only way I’m going to get that is if I stuff myself behind a potted topiary, shut my mouth, and listen.
I left the Halloway circle just as Wyatt's parents were explaining that this is all news to them, that they're still processing the shock. Mrs. Martinez told them that's completely normal and asked if this would be their first grandchild.
Grandpa downing whiskies so fast we’ll have to get a wheelbarrow to haul him out of the building. I should be helping the Halloways and Martinez navigate this situation–it’s my job after all. But I can’t move until I know.
My heart’s hammering with equal parts want and warning.
I pressed myself against a timber rail for support, the rough wood snagging at my dress as I strain to catch their voices.
“...my baby’s daddy,” Brittney says.
She can't be serious. Wyatt says he doesn't remember that night, something about medication, which means something did happen in Cheyenne. The night we met. The night he—. I shudder as the shirtless picture surfaces again.
Through the gap between the post and a fake topiary, I watch Brittney take Wyatt's hand and place it against her stomach.
"Don't worry about the wedding stuff just yet, Wyatt," she says as if she's already planned their future together, already seen the white dress and the christening gown and the family Christmas cards.
Nausea hits me, violent and sudden. The venue spins around me. The Martinez family didn’t come to talk about fire rezoning or politics—they came for Wyatt. Brittney planned this like a spider weaving a web and we—I—walked right into it.
"I know this is a lot to process," Brittney continues, her voice softer now, like they're the only two people in the world. "But we'll figure it out together. The baby and I—we want you, honey, we need you."
There's something calculated about her vulnerability, but maybe that's just my cynical mind trying to protect my breaking heart.
I turn away before I wretch. The image of Wyatt's hand on another woman's belly burns behind my eyelids. I run away. I have to get as far from Wyatt as I can.
I move through the crowd like a ghost, while inside I'm screaming. The sound is feral in its pain.
Guests nod and offer compliments on the venue, the food, the success of the evening, completely unaware that my world just collapsed.
The band plays on—some slow country ballad about forever love that makes my chest ache.
Jessica holds her place by the band. She gives me a thumbs up and a smile that says all her dreams are coming true.
I wave back but duck my head fast, so she doesn’t see me breaking.
Thoughts come in jagged pieces.
How could he not remember?
What kind of night leaves a blank like that?
I need a moment to fall apart without an audience. Thank the heavens above, my mom left. I couldn’t stand to see the look on her face when she finds out she was right about Wyatt.
Please don’t let her be right.
Part of me hopes this is just a mistake. A big mistake that will be wrapped up before the night is over and we’ll all leave with a sense of having put the universe back in its proper order.
The restroom becomes my refuge—elegant with soft lighting. I grip the cool countertop with both hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror like I'm looking at a stranger.
A cold, wet paper towel against my neck doesn't stop the trembling in my hands or quiet the chaos under my skin. I lean against the marble vanity, pressing the damp towel to my pulse points.
"Calm down," I whisper to my reflection, the words barely audible over the background music filtering through the venue's sound system. "Calm down.” I repeat. “Get control of yourself.”
Someone shifts in the stall and I stop talking to myself, but I can’t leave. Not yet.
Sarah is out there right now, expecting me to keep this night running smoothly.
Tonight was my idea. I'm the one who convinced them it could work, who promised I could pull it off, who swore I could bridge their political world with the ranching community and make something meaningful happen.
And here I am, locked in a bathroom, barely able to breathe.
Tonight was supposed to prove I'm worth their investment.
Instead, I'm the girl who couldn't keep it together when it mattered most.
The doubts rush in like cattle through a busted gate, sounding just like my mom. Men don’t stay, Kinsley.
I press the towel harder against my temple, trying to cool the fever of panic building behind my eyes. Maybe she was right. Maybe I've been living in some romantic fantasy.
Brittney would follow Wyatt from town to town—has been! She’ll make his bed, make his breakfast, and make him her whole world. What man wouldn’t be flattered by that kind of attention?
The bathroom door opens. I sniff and turn on the water, ducking my head and hoping whoever it is will just use the facilities and leave me to fall apart in relative privacy. When I lift my eyes to the mirror, Brittney’s staring at me.
I jump.
Her smile is full of pity, and it makes my skin crawl.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie," she says, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "You thought you had a future with Wyatt, but his future is right here." She touches her stomach.
Looking at her—pretty, smiling, carrying his child—I feel something unexpected pierce through my heartbreak.
Not sympathy for her, exactly, but something more complicated.
There’s a baby involved. An innocent child who will grow up in whatever mess this becomes.
I can’t empathize with Brittney. Nor can I understand what Wyatt must be going through.
But that baby? I understand what that baby is going to face.
"You're right about one thing," I manage, my voice steadier than I expected. "He'll make a wonderful father."
I know what it feels like to grow up without one, to wonder if there's something wrong with you that made him leave. If Wyatt is the father, then at least one child won't carry my same wounds—even if it means that I have to step away.
Brittney perks up, satisfied that I've conceded the field.
"I knew you'd understand. You seem like a smart woman.
" She moves toward one of the stalls. "We'll figure out the dates.
Maybe a Christmas wedding after the finals in Vegas?
Something intimate and family oriented. This place is real pretty—we could even get married here. "
I gag on the very idea that Wyatt would marry someone else in this space. The door to her stall closes with a soft click. I should leave. Walk out of this bathroom, out of this venue, out of Wyatt's life before I embarrass myself further. I draw in a shaky breath.
Brook steps out of the other stall. She rushes to me, grabs my arms and pulls me into a hug. "Are you ok?" she whispers. She pulls back and looks me over, her expression fierce with protective anger. She must have heard everything. "I can't believe this," she whispers.
I hold onto her with everything I’ve got. "Me neither." Somehow, I have to get out of here and salvage what I can from this evening. I just need a minute and with Brook here, I know I’m safe.
Brook keeps her hold on me. She’s not going to let me go. "I've never seen Wyatt look at anyone the way he looks at you. Please don’t give up on him."
From inside the stall comes the sound of paper rustling, and Brook's voice drops even lower. "Don't let her win, Kinsley. Don't let fear make your choices for you."
The stall door opens, and Brittney emerges with a satisfied smile that falters slightly when she sees Brook standing there.
"Oh, hello." Brittney smiles. "You're Wyatt's sister, aren't you?" Her tone is different now, more careful and friendly. "Wyatt's told me all about you." She moves as if she’s going to hug Brook.
Brook glares at her and puts a hand up to stop her advance. “I sincerely doubt that.”
Brittney drops her arms. She opens her mouth to respond and then closes it again. She turns to wash her hands and Brook stares her down.
Brook has a level of freedom here that neither Wyatt nor I do. I’m stuck between him and the job I was hired to do. He’s stuck between what may be his future child and saving the night I worked so hard to put together that should in turn save Stonegate Ranch.
The silence stretches uncomfortably until Brittney finishes washing her hands and heads for the door.
"See you out there," she says with forced brightness, and then she's gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of expensive perfume.
Brook keeps her arm around me.
"I still have to convince the Senator to help us," I finally say, my voice thick with exhaustion.
"I don't know how to work around this, but I have to salvage something. I didn't have a plan that included a pregnancy test, but I have to do something.” I know I’m repeating myself but it’s like my brain is stuck on a loop.
Brook holds me back. “Kinsley, you can’t possibly think that any of us expect you to grovel to that man or his daughter.”
“I have to do something,” I beg her. “This is what I was hired to do. If I fail at my job and lose Wyatt…”
“Okay. Okay.” Brook nods with understanding. "Let’s go save a ranch," she says simply. "But if that woman comes near you, I will happily strong arm her to the nearest exit, pregnant or not”
Brook pushes open the door, and the noise of the party rushes in to meet us. I never thought the most impossible thing I'd have to do tonight was pretend my heart wasn't breaking.