11. Ronnie
Ronnie
Flint opens the door, entering the bathroom just as I gag again. His hands go to my hair pulling it back, but I don’t have the energy or focus to even look at him. All I can do is try to get through this.
After a long minute, I finally lean back on my heels to wait for another round. Experience has taught me this usually lasts about twenty minutes for me. It started early in my pregnancy with the twins. Only it was worse with them.
Flint tugs gently at the collar of my shirt before pressing a cool washcloth to the back of my neck.
“It comes in waves,” I explain, my stomach muscles aching.
He doesn’t say anything. He sits on the side of the tub, and I wait for him to speak. When he doesn’t, I say, “You don’t have to stay here for this.”
He crosses his legs at the ankles. He looks at me with compassion shining in his gaze and says in a firm tone, “I'm not leaving.”
“You might regret it,” I warn right as my stomach roils again.
I dry heave a few more times and each time, he comes close enough to hold my hair back before finally placing it in a ponytail.
When it’s over and I’m confident my stomach is finally starting to settle, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes.
He’s sitting next to me on the cold tile, so close our shoulders bump with my every breath and our thighs are pressing against each other.
“It’s yours in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
I open my eyes to focus on him. He’s calmer about this than I expected. “We can do a paternity test if you want. But just know that this doesn’t have to change anything in your life.”
“What do you mean? I'm a dad. This changes everything.” The grin he gives me makes my heart flutter.
I force myself to ignore the giddy feeling spreading through my body. He doesn’t understand what he signed up for just yet. “You can be in as involved as you want or don't want.”
He's already shaking his head before I’ve even finished speaking. “I want to be involved in it. All of it, everything. I don't just want to be here for the baby. I want to be here for you too.”
He takes my hand in his and just like every other time, it sends warmth through me. “Is there anything you need?”
I can’t keep sitting here and thinking about how amazing it feels to have him hold my hand or hoping he meant it when he said this changes everything. “I wouldn't say no to some crackers and a cup of warm tea.”
He pushes to his feet. “I'm on it.”
I blow out a deep breath, reminding myself that I can deal with this, an unexpected but not unwanted pregnancy. “I'll take a quick shower.”
He helps me to my feet. “I need you to know you're not alone in this.”
Before I can say anything, he presses a kiss to my forehead and walks out of the room. I stare at the door for a long moment, trying to decide what to do with this cowboy who’s managed to turn my entire life upside down.
After a quick shower, where my thoughts go in circles about Flint, I finally shut off the water.
I don’t know what the future holds or what kind of father he’ll be.
Then I think of that T-rex bed in the boys’ room.
I think he’ll be an amazing dad, but I was wrong about Richard. He’s not even in the country anymore.
When I leave the bathroom, I discover the kids watching TV. They’re cuddled up on the couch, underneath blankets and looking for all the world like they belong here. Maybe we all do, a tiny voice in my head whispers.
Grandma is on the front porch, sipping her tea on the swing. She’s talked for years about getting a porch swing and now she finally has one. She’s chatting away to a hummingbird that keeps darting around the feeder, like they’re the best of friends.
I smile at the sight of her and pad into the kitchen, the only room that hasn’t been completely overtaken by endless piles of boxes.
It no longer smells like bacon. In fact, there’s no trace of the offending meat at all.
Only a faint lemon scent like someone wiped down the surfaces with a cleaning wipe.
On the table, waiting for me, is a cup of tea in my delicate China cup and a small saucer of crackers. On the opposite end of the table is the TV/VCR combo. I didn’t notice it when I was here earlier, but then again, I was distracted by the cereal.
“She’s already got you trained,” I remark, nodding to it.
He chuckles. “When Sylvester is on the screen, we are silent. I was properly chastised, and I’ve learned my lesson.”
I laugh and take a seat, knowing how grandma is about her movies. I nibble at the crackers while Flint bustles around the kitchen, starting the dishwasher and wiping down counters.
The place didn’t have a speck of dust in it when we arrived, and his bedroom that he gave up for me was spotless. It’s obvious he’s someone who takes pride in his cabin, and it shouldn’t be arousing but it somehow is. There’s nothing sexier than a man who takes responsibility for his home.
He takes a seat at the kitchen table after he’s finished with the chores. He glances into the living room to check that they’re still watching the screen. “When you’re ready to talk about this, I want to. But for now, we’ll go at your speed.”
I blow out my breath, my body relaxing. “Thank you.”
He nods. “I didn’t want to mention it yesterday since we got settled here late. But can I show the boys around the farm today?”
I hesitate. He’s been so kind and considerate, but I’m exhausted from moving yesterday, and there’s still so much to do this weekend. “I’m pretty tired. I’d like to stay in today. Maybe we could show them around tomorrow.”
“Or I can show them around now, and you can lounge here.”
I look at all the boxes in the living room. It’s going to take me hours to get everything sorted and decide what goes into storage and what we need for the next few weeks. “Well, it would be easier to get everything unpacked without them here.”
He frowns when he sees where I’m looking. “Don't worry. I can get those later. You rest, take a nap or read or whatever you need.”
“I don't want us to take up your whole cabin,” I admit even though the idea of crawling back into bed for a nap sounds delightful. This pregnancy is making me exhausted, and with the boys to look after, it feels like there’s never enough time for sleep.
He makes a soft noise, almost like a big cat purring. “I like the place being full. It’s nice.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind taking them out?
They can be a handful sometimes,” I warn quietly.
I wouldn’t trade my boys for the world. They’re curious, rambunctious, and sweet.
But I’m also not one of those parents that thinks I have perfect angels either.
They can be intense if you don’t know how to handle them.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine. I can take care of them.”
Brock and Branson wander in the room, clearly bored with whatever TV was offering them. I need to talk to Flint about setting up parental controls on it. I don’t want them accidentally discovering the dark side of the algorithm.
He turns to them giving them a grin. “Do you want to go see the whole ranch now? Your mom said we could go!”
The two of them break into excited chatter, telling Flint about all the things they want to see and do on the farm. He can barely get a word in because as soon as one of them takes a breath, the next one starts with a new request.
I sip my tea and watch Flint answer their questions easily. When almost ten minutes have passed and they’re still talking his ear off, he says, “Tell you what. Go get dressed in your big boy clothes, and we’ll hit the road.”
They scurry out of the room into their bedroom, and I turn to Flint.
“There’s just one thing. If you see…Cord or anyone really, you can’t tell them about.
” I touch my stomach rather than say the word.
I’ve been very careful not to let the boys know quite yet.
Once they know, I might as well take out an ad in the newspaper for all they blab to people.
“Mira doesn’t know yet,” I explain. “She’s my best friend, and if Cord knows, Mira will know.”
He frowns. “I don’t get it.”
Something nags at me, but I dismiss it. “That's how couples work. You tell one half something and the other half knows.”
“Then consider my lips sealed. Unless you need my lips for other things that I’m very happy to provide,” he says with an eyebrow waggle.
I chuckle even as my nipples tighten, remembering how it felt to have his beard against my breasts. “We’re not doing that again. We’re strictly roommates now.”
“Friends,” he corrects me with a smirk that has me wanting to kiss him.