For Making the Days Worth Living
Braxton
On the evening of December twelfth, I carry a dead-to-the-world one-year-old Colt down the hall and to his nursery. I strip him of his crusty clothes and wrap a blanket around his diaper-clad body. Usually, bedtime is more of a production. But the excitement of the day means he’s out.
I look around the world Emberleigh created in this room.
I cleared the weights and she transformed this into every little boy’s dream.
It’s the ranch—our ranch—painted on the walls of his nursery.
Windrunner and Marron stand above his crib, watching over him.
They’re in a paddock with the west-facing sun behind them.
The next wall over holds our barn. There’s even Brighton’s Jeep in the image.
Luna lopes around the corner. The third wall is Pop’s house.
The last wall has cubbies full of educational toys.
The drawing above it is our house—the house she made a home—with the three of us on the porch.
I wondered when she asked Pop to take the picture this was painted from why in the world we were doing it.
I didn’t complain. I loved the sentiment, but it didn’t fit how Emberleigh typically works.
She’s the photographer, and it’s almost always what she calls photojournalism style, rather than portraits.
It’s capturing a moment, not staging one like we did on the porch.
But what she created in this room is home. It’s everything Colt has and sees. She brought it inside.
Next to his rocking chair is a picture of Emerson holding Colt. It’s almost angelic, white on white with blurred edges. She looks down at his sleeping face. He’s changed so much in the months since it was taken.
I whisper a quick thank you to her.
She was a weekend almost two years ago. Nothing more.
I don’t mean to relegate her to a one-night stand.
But I never knew her… except biblically, that is.
But that time, the details of which are fuzzy, gave me the life I have now.
A chance meeting changed the course of my life, and I’m so thankful for it.
I leave the room after one last look at my son and wander back to the living room. In the front window is a ridiculously large tree with twinkling, colored Christmas lights and ornaments all over it. Ribbon is wound through its limbs, twisting to create a bow at the top.
I can’t help the smile that crawls across my face. Because the rest of the house is a wreck. Emberleigh moves in slow circles. It’s as if she can’t figure out where to start.
Plates of half-eaten cake are everywhere.
The counter is covered with bowls and plates and serving dishes.
New toys and presents are piled so high on the kitchen table that I don’t know where we’ll put all of them.
It took hours to open them all. Christmas will be the same.
Hell, we have more wrapped boxes than this under the tree just waiting to watch Colt unwrap.
I slide in behind Emberleigh, resting my chin on her head, and wrap my arms around her belly.
“You did it. What a successful day,” I say, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
Her head shakes back and forth under my chin. “It looks like a Hallmark store exploded in here.”
I’m sure she can feel my chuckle.
“Come with me a second?” I ask.
“What? And leave all this behind?” Her sass is highlighted by her Vanna White movement indicating the disaster of our house.
“Yeah.” I slide my hand down her arm, catch her hand, and walk to the front door.
She looks down the hall and then back up at me, questioning me.
“Trust me, baby.”
She nods but glances down the hall again, as if she has X-ray vision and can see through the walls.
“He’s fine.”
We step out onto the porch. The dark crisp night tangles with the inviting light and warmth of the living room through the open door.
“Emberleigh. On this very spot, every good thing in my life has happened. Colt came through this door and turned my world on its axis. Hot on his heels, a beautiful, brilliant woman, full of piss and vinegar, tapped her foot right here in annoyance… probably at my existence.” I look down at the porch then back up to hold her eyes.
“And shoved her way into my house and into my life. If Colt rocked my world, you changed its orbit.”
She gasps, and tears well in her eyes.
“You, Emberleigh Carrington, scared me, pissed me off, challenged me. You still do. You also turned my world to color, reminded me of what life was about, and made this house a home. You made our unusual threesome a family. Now I want to do the same.”
I sink to one knee and hold up the ring box that I thumb open.
“You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I promise to protect you and love you every day of my life. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
I look up to see the shock on her face and her mouth moving, but no words come out. Her eyes flick to the ring and back to my face. When she finally speaks, she says, “It’s Colt’s birthday.”
I nod, my throat bobbing.
“On my knee here, baby… Heart laid out before you.”
She sinks to her knees, too, grabs my face and kisses me, her tears hitting my cheeks. “Of course. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
I pull her back for just a moment to slide the three-stone diamond ring on her finger. All three stones are a carat, set in platinum. It’s overkill for a rancher’s wife, and I don’t care one bit.
I kiss her knuckle where the ring sits. “Thank you, baby. I don’t say it enough. For our family, for our home, for making the days worth living. I love you.”
“I—” She looks down at her finger and looks back up at me. Fresh tears pool, but the smile that breaks across her face is perfection. “I love you too. Here’s to being a Ranger.”