Chapter 22
Paid In Full
“Our girl squad is expanding, and I’m so here for it,” Briar exclaims, sifting through another rack of baby clothes.
“Look how precious these are,” Birdie squeals, holding up a pair of baby overalls with a ruffled bottom. “They’d be perfect with that bow I spotted at the baby boutique yesterday.”
“You think that’s cute? Just wait until you see this one,” I say, ducking behind the register.
I pull out the vintage romper with tiny cowgirl hats printed all over it. It was too darling not to put aside for myself.
“It’s perfect,” Briar squeals, clapping her hands. “My niece is going to be the best-dressed cowgirl Bluebell has ever seen.”
Birdie pulls a pair of pink boots from the basket on top of the rack. “Pair these with the romper and it would be absolutely adorable.”
Briar’s eyes light up. “I love it.”
It’s been hard not to hoard every cute baby item that comes into the shop for myself, especially now that I know we’re having a girl. Our inventory has definitely expanded since I found out I was expecting.
The only things stopping me from going overboard on keeping too much for my little peanut are the serious lack of space in the apartment and wanting to include Heath in every decision, including picking out our baby’s first outfits.
These past two months have been pure bliss, aside from the heartburn, back pain, and stretch marks.
Adapting to the second trimester hasn’t been easy, but things with Heath have been incredible.
He’s been so patient with my endless mood swings and can’t keep his hands off my growing belly, constantly cradling it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
Our baby girl is making us wait to feel her kick, just like she has with most things in this pregnancy. We’ve been reassured at every ultrasound that she’s healthy and active. Heath often reminds me she’s as stubborn as her mama, and I’d better get used to her doing things on her own schedule.
Birdie holds up a newborn sleeper and squints at the size tag. “Do you realize you’re going to have to push a watermelon-sized baby out of your vagina?”
“Thanks for the visual, Birdie. Really,” I reply dryly. “It’s not like I’ve been trying to block out that visual for weeks.”
“You know,” Briar interjects with a grin spread across her face. “I’ve assisted with plenty of deliveries on the ranch.”
“As tempting as it is to give birth in a barn or whatever it is you’re suggesting,” I start, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “I plan to be heavily medicated in a gloriously sterile hospital room. For now, denial is my coping strategy for the fact I’ll have to push out a whole human, fingers and toes included. ”
Ever since the doctor asked me about my birth plan, I’ve been low-key panicking and doing everything possible to avoid thinking about the actual delivery.
How am I supposed to decide which position I want to give birth in or who’s going to be in the room when I’ve already been warned that any plan I make could go right out the window if there are complications?
The one nonnegotiable for me is an epidural. I have no desire to experience that level of pain without some serious pharmaceutical backup.
“Maybe you should’ve thought of the consequences before you let Heath rawdog it.” Birdie winks.
“Nope.” Briar shakes her head as she pushes a dress back onto the rack. “I’ve told you a million times, I do not want to hear any sexual references involving either of my brothers.”
“How exactly do you think this little princess got here?” I chuckle, rubbing my belly. “You know, the niece you can’t stop bragging about?”
“Denial—same as you,” she quips.
“At least I’m not—”
“Shh,” Birdie interjects, raising a finger to her lips. “Do you hear that?” The faint sound of meowing drifts through the store. “I think there’s a cat in your alley.”
She doesn’t hesitate, heading straight for the door leading to the mudroom.
“Birdie, wait,” I call after her, but she’s already gone.
She doesn’t mess around when she thinks there’s an animal that needs help, and I already know she’s about to give me endless shit the second she discovers my secret.
“Charlie. Get out here right now,” Birdie yells. “You have some explaining to do.”
Called it.
Briar turns to me, smirking. “Do I even want to know what you did?”
“You’re about to find out,” I reply cheekily.
I wave for her to follow me to the back alley where Birdie is standing with a hand on her hip.
“What the heck is all this?” she demands, motioning around us.
There’s no cat in sight, but next to the feeding station Heath put out a couple of months ago stands an unfinished catio he’s been building. Its rafters stick up unevenly, with several support beams already bolted to the brick wall.
I push a hand through my hair, glancing between her and Briar. “A stray cat has been living out here, and Heath decided to make it a safe place to hang out without setting off my allergies.”
He didn’t want to risk triggering them, so he’s been mindful of the design. He even added a cutout for the entrance away from the door to the mudroom, and the shelter will be enclosed on three sides with small-gauge wire mesh—tight enough to trap the dander but open enough that we can see inside.
A big grin lights up Birdie’s face. “I figured I’d have to guilt-trip you into adopting a rescue someday. So proud you did it all on your own.”
My eyes widen. “Wait. I never said anything about adoption.”
Heath may have taken the cat to the vet last month for a checkup and to get him neutered, but he still roams the streets during the day.
We’re just offering him a safe place to eat and sleep.
I absolutely have not gotten attached to the little gremlin.
The fact that I’ve bought him toys and his favorite treats means nothing.
Briar nudges my shoulder. “You’ve got no choice now that Birdie’s involved. Best to just give in, nice and easy.”
“What she said,” Birdie chirps. “And I expect the cutie to be named the next time I stop by. It’s wrong for him to be wandering around without one.”
I scoff. “You haven’t even seen him. What if he’s the ugliest cat you’ve ever laid eyes on?”
“Nonsense,” Birdie replies, brushing me off. “There’s no such thing as an ugly cat. I’m sure he’s downright adorable.”
She’s right, he is, especially when he chases his own tail in enthusiastic three-legged circles. Still doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft for him or anything.
Birdie takes a photo of the half-built setup. “Wren is going to love this.”
“Oh, for sure,” Briar agrees.
I already know she’s never going to let me live it down. She’s officially the final holdout who hasn’t gotten roped into saving an animal by Birdie.
My chest tightens as I think about how little we’ve heard from her lately. She still replies to the group chat and checks in with me every week about the baby, but our conversations have grown shorter and more distant.
If I weren’t on the verge of waddling everywhere, I’d rally everyone for a trip to Florida to see Wren and Lottie in person. For now, all I can do is keep reaching out and hope she’s just busy with work and Lottie’s after-school activities. If anything else were going on, I’m sure she’d tell us.
After the girls leave, I decide to organize my workspace in the shop. There are piles of papers, recipes, and to-do lists on sticky notes everywhere. Pregnancy brain is no joke, and with my already chaotic life, I could use all the reminders I can get.
Then there’s the stack of bills I’ve been avoiding. I’m still playing catch-up on overdue payments, and although it’s not as overwhelming as it used to be, I live in fear of another final notice or having an extension request turned down.
I decide now is as good a time as any to rip the Band-Aid off. I snatch the top envelope and tear it open. My hands shake as I pull out the statement, bracing for the bright red “OVERDUE” stamp. Instead, I’m confused when I see “Balance Paid in Full” printed in clean black letters.
That can’t be right.
I scan the rest of the notice to confirm the balance is zero. In a daze, I flip through the stack until I find the credit card statement I use for all my business purchases. Sure enough, that balance has also been paid.
Still not convinced this is real, I pull out my phone and log into the bank app, certain there must be a mistake. But the numbers don’t lie. The account is completely paid off. No pending charges. No errors.
Heath.
It had to be him. I have no idea how he figured it out, but with him living here, it would’ve been easy enough for him to find one of the bills stashed in a drawer or left behind the shop register. I usually open them here and carry them upstairs at the end of the day.
Charlie: Where are you?
Heath: Driving home. You okay?
Charlie: We need to talk.
Heath: Sounds ominous.
Charlie: You paid my overdue bills without asking.
Heath: We’ll talk when I get back. Be there in ten.
There’s a small part of me that wants to be upset that he intervened without telling me, but the relief is also overwhelming.
The problem is I can’t shake the nagging intuition that something bad is going to happen.
And the happier Heath and I are, the more I brace myself for the other shoe to drop.
Every sweet gesture or extra time he spends with me instead of on the ranch makes me half-expect him to wake up and regret choosing me.
It would have almost been easier if we’d put an expiration date on our arrangement. At least then I’d have a definitive end to prepare for.
I’m aware it’s not rational. Not when he worships the ground I walk on. Especially last night when he fucked me against the mirror while reminding me how beautiful I am, even though my body continues to change.
I wait for him upstairs in the living room with a bowl of pickles dipped in cottage cheese—my current pregnancy craving, I can’t go a day without.
Within a few minutes, I hear Heath climbing the stairs. When he steps inside, he hangs up his hat before joining me in front of the couch.