FIFTEEN
BLAIR
Baby is the size of a mason jar
Colt and I had talked on the phone practically every single night since I told him I was pregnant. He was very… attentive. To the point it almost made me feel like I was taking advantage of him.
Stephanie and Chelsey had to remind me no less than a thousand and one times that he was the literal father of my child and attentiveness was a green flag.
If nothing else, the constant conversation had made him feel a lot less like a stranger, which I had to assume would be beneficial to coparenting, at the very least.
Still, I’d offhandedly mentioned wanting McDonald’s one night and he’d DoorDashed it to me within thirty minutes. Flowers were delivered weekly and he’d taken extra caution to ensure they were safe for Stephanie’s cats.
In between telling me what he’d learned in the pregnancy books he was reading, he told me about his family’s ranch—his mama, two brothers, three sisters, a thousand cattle, a good number of horses, and a myriad of other animals. I was scared of horses, but when I told him so, he brushed it off.
“Don’t imagine you’ll have any use for a horse for a while anyway. Besides, my little sister can help. She’s like the horse whisperer, I swear.”
Even though I keep trying to assure him he doesn’t need to uproot his entire life for me, he insists, telling me he’s already told his manager he’s retiring and started working with his brothers.
The way he talks about Montana, about his family’s ranch, makes it really, really hard not to envision our daughter growing up there, so I eventually cave.
The day he comes to get me, I can’t stop throwing up.
I thought the second trimester was supposed to be the breeziest, but the way my stomach is churning has me thinking otherwise.
I hear him knock on the door and Stephanie’s voice as she greets him, vague Charlie Brown-esque mumbling about me being sick.
Colt’s knocking on the door a second later. I pick myself up off the tile floor with a huff, flushing the toilet.
“Just a minute,” I grumble, twisting the lock on the knob and pulling the door open for him while I turn the sink on so I can brush my teeth. Again.
I don’t even let myself look at him. I feel so gross today—from throwing up, from how tight my shirt is, from the prospect of spending the next several hours in his truck as we ride back to Montana.
His fingers push my hair back behind my ear and despite my attempts, his eyes find mine in the mirror as I brush my teeth. He’s got his hat on backwards, which somehow makes him even hotter.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, mama,” he says quietly, brows furrowed with concern. “We’ll take it easy today. I’ll load everything up and we’ll just get a couple hours under our belt before we stop for lunch.”
I nod, spitting and rinsing off my toothbrush before stowing it in the Ziploc baggie again .
“Sorry, just nerves, I think.”
“Nothing to be nervous about, pretty girl. I’m so fucking excited, I can barely breathe.
” He turns to me, pulling me into his tattooed arms. I’m struck again by how safe his embrace makes me feel, how wonderful his chest feels to rest against. His fingers card through my hair and I almost contemplate asking him if he wants to go to bed—just to nap together—but the reminder of the long drive and everything else that’s gonna come with it tonight jolts me back into my nerves.
“I saw a couple suitcases in the living room. Is that everything?”
“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of stuff.”
Colt looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself, tucking his lips into a small smile instead.
“I’ll load it up in the truck if you wanna say your goodbyes to your friend.”
When he turns his back to me, I finally get to see what his hat says this time.
Girl Dad .
Colt rattles incessantly, worrying over everything from the air conditioner to the songs playing on the radio.
He reminds me, again, that we’ll be staying at his mom’s house until guest season is over in September and then we’ll get to pick out which cabin we’d like to use.
He swears he’ll try to make sure his mom and sisters don’t drive me insane.
I tell him they’re not going to bother me, but I don’t think he believes me. I’ve lived in so many homes, I’ve lost count. I’ve had decent housemates and terrible ones and everything in between. There’s no way his family could be any worse than the people I’ve lived among in the past.
“Are you craving anything specific? I figure we’ll stop for lunch around noon, but there’s a nice rest stop up here in Wyoming we can stretch our legs and pick up some snacks at,” he says, adjusting the vents for the air conditioner again.
He puts his hand in front of them and follows the flow to my arm to make sure it’s hitting me.
I grin at his antics.
“The temperature’s fine, cowboy,” I promise him. “And we literally just got in the truck an hour or so ago, so we don’t need to stop just for me.”
“Nah,” he says, hands on the wheel again. “It won’t just be for you. I’m sure I’ll have to piss. Shit, sorry, I mean pee.”
I roll my eyes. “Just because I told you I don’t swear doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“Just trying to be respectful, mama. Anyway, cravings?”
“Gummy bears, mostly,” I tell him, slipping down further in the seat. The damn seatbelt is so uncomfortable. Colt’s eyes dart over to me, but he seems content when he realizes I’m just getting comfy. “Ooh, and macaroni and cheese. Like, the cheap blue-box kind.”
Colt laughs. “I know just the place to stop for lunch.”
Chili’s.
We stop at Chili’s for lunch.
And after we both order a steak with cheese fries, he orders a kids’ macaroni meal too.
“It’s just the blue-box kind that I’ve been craving,” I speak up, ready to tell my waitress not to bother.
“That’s what the kids’ macaroni is,” she says instead, excusing herself while Colt grins like he’s presented me with a dowry.
“You’re quite pleased with yourself.”
Colt shrugs, still smiling. “Feels like the first time I’ve been able to actually do something for you. I feel kinda useless most of the time.”
I stare at him, mouth a bit agape.
“Useless? Colt, you’ve done so much for me already. You’re literally moving me into your house…”
Colt rolls his eyes. “The least I can do.”
“Technically, the least you could do is nothing at all, which would’ve been totally fine and would still be totally fine if you decide you don’t want anything to do with?—”
“That’s starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” he interrupts.
I sit back as my stomach sinks. He hadn’t yelled, hadn’t used a cruel tone, but he’d said it so bluntly, and my stupid head twisted it into anger. I fully blame it on his child growing inside of me when my eyes start to well with tears.
His face drops, and I try to duck my head and hide my tears from him so he can’t see them, but our table’s only so big. Short of fleeing to the bathroom, I’m stuck.
“Baby, no. Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching across the table for my hand, but I pull it back to wipe at my cheeks.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone’s noticing the ridiculous crying girl. Who cries at Chili’s?
Colt sighs, pulling his hand back but leaning forward.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, pretty girl. You’re not pissing me off, but your lack of faith in me is hurting my feelings.”
My head snaps up, brows furrowed.
“No, not—it’s not that I don’t have faith in you. It’s just… Well, you didn’t ask for this, Colt.”
“Did you?”
“Well, no, but?—”
“But nothing. I’m sure you didn’t want to be pregnant your senior year of college any more than I expected to become a daddy with a woman I haven’t even gotten to know yet, but things happen.
” He shrugs. “There’s no reason you should have to go through this alone, Blair.
I know I’m not great at much of anything except planting my ass on the back of a bull, but I’m trying. ”
His eyes are so sincere. It breaks my heart to think I’ve been making him feel like he’s not being exactly what I need.
“You’re doing great, Colt. I just feel like I’m trapping you.”
Colt smiles, reaching his hand across the table again, palm up. He flicks his fingers in a grabby motion, and I pull my hand from my lap to give it to him.
“You’re not trapping me,” he swears, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“One day, I’ll be strong enough to tell you how selfishly grateful I am to you.
How I think the stars aligned perfectly for us to be here right now.
How I’m goddamn ecstatic you’re having my baby.
But I also don’t wanna scare you off, so for now, please stop trying to give me outs. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” I tell him, and I remember having this exact conversation a few weeks ago where I promised I’d believe him when he said he wanted to stay, but I keep waiting for him to change his mind.
Regardless, I don’t have it in me to be cruel, and if the outs are making him feel like I don’t appreciate his help, I’ve got to actually keep my word this time.
“I’ll stop giving you outs.”
“Start asking more of me, too,” he asks, still grinning, still holding my hand. “I try to guess what you need, but when we get to Montana, I need to know you’ll ask me if you need support and I’m not giving it.”
That’s infinitely harder. I can’t stand asking for help. Still…
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”