Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
JO
The cottage had undergone a thorough transformation over the past few weeks.
According to the baby books, I was in the nesting phase of my pregnancy.
The air inside was crisp with the faint scent of fresh paint and lemon-scented cleaner, a testament to the hours spent scrubbing every surface.
Soft afternoon sunlight streamed through the newly washed windows, casting warm, golden beams across the freshly painted walls.
The rooms felt alive, each one carrying the faint hum of effort and care that went into making this space feel renewed and ready.
The baby’s room was perfect. I never thought I’d be so predictable.
It was soft, sweet, and just right for our little princess.
The walls were painted a delicate shade of blush, and the sunlight streamed through lace curtains, casting warm, golden patterns on the plush cream carpet.
A faint scent of baby powder and lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the comforting smell of freshly laundered crib sheets.
Ryan was right all along—we were having a baby girl.
God, he looked so smug when he found out.
He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and excitement.
As soon as the doctor revealed the news, he couldn't resist a little celebratory fist pump right there in the office. Later, he teased me gently, reminding me how he’d been so certain all along, and his joy was infectious.
Ryan’s mom created the best part of the baby’s room.
She wasn’t anything like I expected. First, she was so youthful that she could pass for his sister.
Her short purple pixie cut suited her, as do her vibrant, multicoloured dresses, which swirled as she moves, highlighting her distinctively bohemian vibe.
She carried the scent of patchouli. June, who insisted I call her “Mama June,” was an artist at heart.
The mural she created was a breathtaking fusion of Mulan’s strength and Tiana’s vibrant charm, blending their worlds into a single masterpiece.
The vivid imagery transported you into a realm where cherry blossoms swayed alongside New Orleans jazz, and every detail felt alive with energy.
I was completely captivated by its beauty.
I often found myself sitting in the baby’s room, on the rocking chair, staring at it.
Okay, that’s where I spent time when I was instructed to rest. Texas is more than happy to fulfil my requests as long as I stick to delegating and avoid lifting a finger to help.
Other than his insistence that I rest, it’s been nice having Ryan here full-time.
For a few months, he had split his time, spending half the month in each location. Then, two weeks ago, it all ended.
“I’m on my way to you,” he called me as he was waiting for his flight.
“The weather is changing. What if a winter storm strands me, leaving me unable to reach you? I can’t bear the thought of risking the baby coming early and missing her arrival.
I need to stay close; no more trips back and forth to South Dakota until after she’s born. ”
Since then, I woke up to the irresistible scent of a warm, mouthwatering breakfast, felt my feet gently caressed without asking, and sunk into bed, utterly spent, after he sends me spiralling into ecstasy.
His presence had its challenges. He insisted I reduce my workload, which is easier said than done.
Convincing him of a paralegal’s limits was like milking a bull.
After many heated discussions, I agreed to hire a newly appointed bar lawyer for my office while I’m on maternity leave.
Training has been difficult, with Ryan accusing me of micromanaging and urging me to stop working.
I compromised by working from the cottage.
Ryan was more a part of my life and decisions than I imagined he would be.
Our ‘arrangement’ felt more traditional than the ‘just co-parenting’ one I agreed to.
In hindsight, I may not have had all the facts I needed to make my decision.
I’m not blaming Ryan, but when he sold me on the co-parenting dream using his parents as examples, he left some things out. Or some might say I hadn’t asked.
His family’s closeness, even with two homes, was a dream he cherished.
His parents’ unwavering commitment to putting him first, their shared vacations and holidays, and the absence of any ill words between them painted a picture of harmony and love.
It was a dream he held close, one that inspired him to believe in the possibility of a loving, supportive co-parenting relationship, even in the face of challenges.
If Ryan and I ever faced divorce, this blueprint of mutual respect and care would guide us in giving our daughter the best life possible.
During his parents’ visit, Mama June let me in on a piece of the puzzle I wasn’t aware of. It turned out the free spirit Mama June and Ryan’s buttoned-up father, whom I called Mr. Kay, were still married. They always had been.
“Ed and I aren’t divorced; we loved each other too much to give up on what we had.
We simply discovered early on that living together 24/7 wasn’t healthy for us.
I’m water, and he’s oil—our love is undeniable, but our differences were epic and constantly ignited flames that would have destroyed us in the long run.
We found the key to keeping our bond strong was to prioritise our well-being, live apart while ensuring our children were happy, safe, and loved. ”
After his parents left, I confronted Ryan. “I never told you my parents were divorced. My parents found an unconventional way to raise their family and remain a couple. They had to. Kays don’t get divorced, Sunshine.”
The conversation left me with much to reflect on.
Was that the goal we were aiming for? Our situation was different.
His parents’ story began traditionally—they fell in love, got married, and built a life together.
For us, though, things were more complicated.
Our origin story wasn’t a fairytale based on love, just two people with a strong physical attraction who enjoyed each other’s company, complicated by an unexpected pregnancy.
The difference in our marriage was stark compared to his parents’—we lived in separate countries, and there had never been any discussions about living together in the same country. The uncertainty of a lack of shared plans or a clear future path hung over us like a storm cloud waiting to burst.
Ryan was deeply connected to Broken Stone Ranch.
Ranching wasn’t just a job for him; it was his passion.
Whenever he wasn’t with me in the cottage, he would spend hours working at Chase’s ranch or my brother’s, fully immersed in the life he loved.
I couldn’t imagine him giving up his life in South Dakota and living with us full-time.
“I thought I’d find you in here.” Ryan’s sudden appearance startled me, interrupting my thoughts.
He was all smiles until he stopped right in front of me. His expression changed as he held his hand out to me. “What’s on your mind, Sunshine?”
“Oh, nothing, you know how my mind wanders.”
Pulling me to my feet, he cupped my face. “Work on your poker face. You can talk to me about anything. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He sighed. “Come on, let’s go get a snack.”
“By ‘us’, you mean me, right?”
The man was forever trying to feed me. I gained more than I was comfortable with.
I was up nineteen pounds. On my last visit, the doctor said it was healthy weight gain.
Somehow, Ryan interpreted that to mean I should eat more.
He wasn’t the one who had to lose all this weight after the baby was born.
His insistence on my drinking three glasses of milk per day wasn’t just irritating; it felt like a challenge to my autonomy, threatening to disrupt the fragile peace of our household. By that I meant I would disrupt it.
“I’ve been out there all day helping your brother. I could do with some grub to tide me over until dinner.”
Just as we reached the kitchen, he suggested, “How about a glass of warm—”
“Not drinking any more milk today, Ryan.” I gave him my best ‘test me and find out’ tone.
“How about a bowl of granola?”
Did this man think I was an idiot? I have an entire law degree with the Governor General’s Gold Medal award, but here he was trying to trick me into drinking more milk by offering me cereal.
“No, thank you.” I really hoped I sounded as annoyed as I felt. “Ryan—”
He held up his finger when his phone rang. He frowned at his phone before answering, “Ryan.”
Placing his phone on the counter, he put it on speaker.
“Hi, Ryan,” a female voice with a country tang greeted him with a giggle.
“Who is this?” he asked while opening the breadbox. Oh, maybe he would pull out the cranberry and orange scones he had made yesterday.
“It’s Sally-Lois, silly.” Her voice sounded like a foghorn.
Did she really giggle again? As Ryan’s mom would say, “Bless her heart,” she was going all out trying to sound flirty, and it was landing like a cement block.
Sally-Lois was an intimidating-looking woman.
She was as tall as Ryan and built just like her dad, with broad shoulders that gave her a linebacker-like appearance.
Her hands were massive, matching her size-fourteen boots, and she carried herself with a presence that made it clear she was not someone to be trifled with.
When I visited Broken Stone, and she thought no one was watching, she sent death glares my way, her expression filled with animosity.
It was obvious she had a huge crush on Ryan, though he, for all his perception, seemed completely oblivious to it.
“What do you need?” he snapped.
I noticed that if it wasn’t me or his mother, he sounded gruff on the phone. His aim was to get to the point and get off the call, just like he was handling this one.
Ryan held up the container with the scones, and I nodded as a huge grin took over my face.
“I was checking in. How is your trip?”
He held up a jar of bacon jam, and I gave him a thumbs up. He winked at me.
“Was there something you needed?”
“Well, Daddy said you would be away for a while…” she paused.
I think she expected him to say something; instead, he remained silent. After clearing her throat, she continued, “I wasn’t sure when you would be back…” Again, another charged pause.
Ryan wasn’t the fill in the conversation kind of guy. It made me think she shouldn’t have spent much time with him if she hadn’t picked up on that.
“You are gonna have to get to the point; I’m fixin’ to eat soon.”
“Oh, um.” She cleared her throat. “Daddy struggles with running the ranch on his own. When you are around, you keep him on track.”
Ryan cut the scones in half and placed them in the toaster oven. “Big Terry has things under control.”
“I just don’t want you to lose what you’ve invested in the ranch, ‘cause he was careless.”
“You don’t have to worry about my investment. I can take care of me and mine.”
“I’m sure you can.” Another one of those weird giggles.
“Then I don’t see the point of this call.”
Ouch, Ryan.
“I was just curious when you’d be back…”
“Why is that?” Ryan’s face contorted in confusion.
“I mean to keep an eye on things.” She stammered, stumbling over her words.
“I couldn’t say. I have things here that are far more important than the ranch. Jo and I have a baby on the way.”
“She’s having your baby!?”
The fuck? I was offended by the shock in her voice. Here I was having second-hand embarrassment for her, really feeling bad for the woman, and she was questioning the parentage of my baby. I rubbed my belly defensively.
“Of course it is.” He looked at the phone as if it had grown two heads. “You don’t have to worry about the ranch. Y’all are in a good place and excellent hands. Goodbye. Sunshine, press disconnect for me, will you please?”
See, bitch, he had manners when he wanted to.
“Sure thing,” I answered with a little too much cheer.
I’m sure she realised, as I disconnected when he asked me to, that the call was probably on speakerphone.
“Weird call,” he mumbled.
I was staying out of the situation unless asked directly. Maybe the call would be enough to deter her.
Then he shook his head, as if dismissing the phone call. He walked over to me and gripped my waist, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want something to eat besides the scones?”
“I think I will have an apple.”
“Then afterwards we can take a nap.”
“You mean…” I wrinkled my nose at him. “…you want me to take a nap.”
“No, I mean us, but first you can give me some sunshine.” He kissed my neck, then captured my lips.