Chapter 18
[Tate]
“Let me take you somewhere today?”
Neve hums around the Styrofoam cup holding steamy cider. “Sounds vaguely familiar.” She smiles softly, reminded of the other day when I asked her to come to the apple orchard with me.
That day had been such a good one, even if it ended without the kiss I’d been desperate to give her all day long. The one I thought would happen when sticky apple pie filling coated our fingers and her lips.
Her mouth is fucking sin. The way she sucked my fingers. Eyes half-mast. Lips covered in pie syrup. She was as tempting as the fruit, and I wanted her. I wanted her like a raw ache in my belly.
Neve is a free spirit, and it is refreshing. Willpower, Aunt Charma said. More like strong-willed. She is who she is, and I admire that about her.
And I felt sick about the sale. Sick that I was keeping something from her. Something I needed to tell her, only I didn’t know how. I was already worried about her. Pregnant, thinking she’s alone, upset about losing something so sentimental.
I also feel sick that I apparently hurt her. By keeping my distance, giving her space, she had time to overthink, to overprocess, without me being that someone I want her to lean on.
The thing about Neve’s hard outer shell is she has a softer side.
I might have teased her about being emotionally attached to Rusty’s Wrecks, because she is attached to it.
The place was important to her. Full of memories and good times, like I wish I’d had with my dad.
I am envious, and I didn’t want to take the place from her.
Which led to investigating a plan B. One I hope she will consider.
“Where are we going this time?” she says, giving me the green light. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved. Her question was my answer. She is willing to spend another day with me.
She wasn’t wrong; I should have called her. I should have checked in, but I honestly wasn’t sure she’d want to talk to me.
Lumi called me on Thursday morning, and once I confirmed that the Snowe sisters really wanted to sell, time just accelerated.
I called the office. I called the client, a parent company for Bucky Beaver Body Shop.
The client was thrilled. My boss was ecstatic.
We’d just made one of the most important acquisitions for Hessfield Holdings.
Still, I shake thoughts about the deal and focus on the woman in front of me.
“Let me surprise you,” I counter, already knowing she doesn’t like them. Or so she says. She runs her hand over her belly, and I want to know if it’s a nervous tic like my hair swiping. Or if she feels protective of our little one inside her. Or if she does it out of habit now.
I want to know everything about her, but I feel like I’m in an hourglass. Time slipping away from me.
She shakes her head, like she thinks I’m ridiculous, but then says, “Let me just check in with Lumi and Isolde.”
She entered the Fall Harvest Market with her sisters.
The town closes off Love Lane for street fairs, and I’d been coming out of Fresh Swill, the coffee shop, when I saw them.
I didn’t want to appear like a stalker, but I was stalking, right up until Neve stopped at Aunt Charma’s booth.
She’d been checking out the rings, which put another idea in my head.
One I wanted to ask Neve about after our surprise road trip.
I follow her to find her sisters, where I don’t need another introduction, but Neve still begins with, “You guys remember Tate?”
Isolde smiles kindly. Lumi only shakes her head, not like she doesn’t remember me, but like she’s secretly saying something to her sister.
“We’re going to get out of here,” Neve states, no further preamble.
Isolde’s eyes widen. Lumi’s narrow.
“No elephant, huh?” Lumi asks.
“Does this make him apple pie?” Isolde turns toward her eldest sister. The corner of her lip curls upward like Neve’s does.
I have no idea what either of these things mean and write it off that perhaps they are all a little quirky. Beautiful, but strange in their own way.
With Isolde’s question, Neve wraps her arm through my elbow and tugs me forward.
“Nice to see you again,” I call over my shoulder.
“Don’t be nice to them. They are annoying,” Neve grumbles.
I laugh. “But you love them.”
She slows her pace, keeping her arm tucked around mine, while leaning against me.
“But I love them,” she repeats softly.
Something tells me when Neve loves, she loves fiercely. She loves someone, and sometimes things, like a rundown repair shop, faults and all.
“You have a big heart, Neve Snowe,” I whisper, before kissing the top of her head because I can’t seem to help myself.
A beautiful, quirky, loyal heart.
“Don’t tell anyone.” She bumps into me while still holding onto me, and I grin, feeling so much lighter than I did standing in the middle of the market, afraid I’d lost Neve for good.
Eventually, we stop next to an SUV that is much better than the basic sedan I’ve been driving. It’s another thing that kept me away from her for two days.
“Did you get a different rental?” she asks.
“No. I bought this,” I say, opening the passenger door for her.
“You—” Neve chokes. “You just bought a car. In the past two days.”
“Yep.” I pause as she stares at me. The fresh, new car scent wafts out through the open door. “Do you like it?”
I hesitate only because I want her to like it. The Honda Passport has all the modern amenities plus the highest safety rating. It isn’t a classic Ford Bronco, which doesn’t meet current safety standards.
“It’s fancy.” She shimmies her shoulders but smiles, admiring the leather interior and gadgets on the dashboard as she climbs in. Since she’s too busy checking out the dash, I reach for her seatbelt and strap her in.
Her head whips in my direction. Our faces close.
“I can do that for myself,” she says, her voice lacking heat.
“I know you can.” I just want to take care of you. But I leave that comment unsaid.
Only, my hand swipes over her belly. Taking the liberty to touch the swell. I should have asked permission. I know some women hate how openly strangers behave toward a pregnant woman.
But I’m not a stranger. I’m this baby’s father. And I want to be Neve’s man, whatever that might look like.
Our gazes lock for a second. Her mouth is rosy. Her cheeks flushed. Both make her eyes even brighter. Today is overcast, but Neve is all blue skies to me.
I slowly drag my gaze from hers and shut her door. Circling around to the driver’s side, leaves kick up around my feet. We’re weeks away from the trees truly changing color, but some leaves have already fallen here and there. They dance around the edge of the new SUV.
Once we’re on our way, I point out some of the SUV’s features, like I’m a car salesman.
Neve sits silently, taking it all in before she says, “I can’t believe you bought a new car so quickly.”
I can’t believe I did either. But buying the SUV also felt right.
“You said you’re due October first,” I remind her. “That’s a couple of weeks from now. I needed better wheels than the rental.”
Neve stares at me as I pull out of Lovewell Landing proper and along the winding road that curves with the coastline.
“You’re staying?” She chokes over the question.
“Of course.” My brows pinch as I sneak a glance at her. “You’re having our baby, Neve. I want to be here for the birth.”
“You’re staying until I have the baby,” she clarifies. “Three more weeks.”
I’ve already been here for two.
I shrug. “Yes.” I plan to stay longer, but I haven’t worked that part out yet. “Unless you want to move to New York.”
“Absolutely not,” she nearly shrieks.
I chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”
“This isn’t some Hallmark movie,” Neve states, her tone winding up. “You can’t waltz in like some city slicker and then decide to stay because you feel sorry for the woman you got pregnant.”
“I don’t feel sorry for her,” I say, glancing over at her again. For some reason, I adjust the silver watch around my wrist, and her gaze falls on it. “I feel sorry for me. I missed out on most of this pregnancy.”
“Well, if I could have given it to you, I would have, but we aren’t seahorses.”
I guffaw. “Neve.”
“I’m serious,” she says loudly.
“I’m serious,” I repeat. “I wish I’d been here. I wish I’d known.” I’m not faulting her. I’m faulting myself. I should have sought her out instead of letting her haunt my dreams.
“You really want a baby,” she says, more curious than accusatory, like she’s trying to make sense of it. “At this stage of life?”
I glance at her once more. A quick check of her shape. The swell of her belly with my baby inside. The glow of her skin from pregnancy and a warm autumn day. The curiosity in those blue eyes.
“I don’t just want a baby. I want our baby. And why wouldn’t I?” I ask quietly. “What stage of life do you think I’m in?”
“Shouldn’t you be having a midlife crisis? Be in some existential phase about your purpose in life?”
Maybe I am in one. But the moment doesn’t feel like a crisis.
It feels like clarity. The kind that’s been sitting with me for a long time now, quiet and unshifting, where I know I want a wife.
A child. To be a husband and a dad. To have a family that is ours.
And that hasn’t changed. It’s just become harder to ignore.
And presently, a wish fulfilled. At least in part.
Last year might have crushed me, but this situation seems like a blessing. Almost like . . . Fate.
“Maybe this is my purpose, Neve. Fatherhood.”
She snorts. I don’t further clarify. I keep my eyes on the road. My hands at ten and two, gripping the steering wheel tighter than I need to.
“You’re really serious?” she asks, reading my body language, or perhaps my thoughts. “You really want this. Her.”
I want momma and baby, but I don’t want to freak Neve out. She’s already struggling with too much at once.
“I really want her,” I state, nodding toward her belly. “Little Wrench.” My lips curl into a soft smile. The nickname is growing on me, but still, I say, “We really need to come up with a better name.”
Neve is quiet for a minute, staring at the road, ignoring my suggestion.
“I live here,” she eventually states. “And you live in New York.”
Yes, but maybe not for much longer. “We’ll work it out.”
“How would that look?” Neve glances down at her belly, her hand running over it in soothing strokes. Her voice is soft, meek. I doubt there is a single thing Neve is afraid of in life, but she sounds a little frightened . . . of me.
“I don’t have any intention of putting up a fight with you, Neve. You’re her mother. I just want an equal part in her life as her father.”
Neve nods but turns her face toward the side window.
This car ride is not going how I planned. I wanted to take Neve somewhere I thought she’d enjoy, not have a serious conversation about parental rights.
“Hey.” I reach over and jostle her forearm. “Trust me. Please.”
She doesn’t look at me but remains focused on the view out the side window. “I think that might be the issue. I do trust you.”
I could argue that I don’t understand how trust can be a bad thing. Instead, I take what she’s offering. She trusts me. She’s afraid of it, but I want to prove there’s nothing to be afraid of.
I slip my hand from her forearm, setting my arm on the armrest attached to the driver’s seat until Neve reaches over for my thigh, settling her hand there.
I glance at her. I glance at her hand. Then I curl my fingers around hers, lift them to my lips, and kiss her inner wrist.
Neve has a number inked on the inside of her wrist.
“What’s significant about 111?” I ask.
Neve shrugs, attempting to pull her hand back, but I hold firm.
“My dad died on the date. When Charma came to his funeral, she told me it was an angel number. Like he might have left this world, but he was still looking over me.”
I stare down at the number and swallow thickly. “Did your dad pass on New Year’s Day?”
Neve just gives me a look.
Fuck.
“So the well . . .” She made a wish at the well on New Year’s Eve.
“I’d been hoping for a miracle. A little luck, I guess. Or some help. I wished for the well to bring me true love, like Charma suggested. I love Rusty’s Wrecks more than anything, and I was hoping to keep the place.”
Christ.
“Neve, I’m so sorry.” For the loss of her dad. For the loss of the garage. For any loss she’s ever had to bear.
I bring her knuckles to my lips and linger there.
You need to tell her whispers through my head like a devil on my shoulder. Not yet, says another voice. Not now. Not after this revelation.
I keep her hand in mine and set them on her thigh, continuing to drive us deeper into the woods.
Eventually, we pass underneath a stone bridge. An ancient-looking overpass.
“I’ve always loved this bridge,” Neve whispers as we slip beneath the arched stonework. “It makes me feel like I’m entering another realm.”
I chuckle, softly. If only life worked that way. I’d turn back time and find her sooner.
But I’d never change that she’s having our baby.