CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bryce
Eleven Weeks ~ Baby is the size of a ping-pong ball
Me
How big is the baby today?
This question is nothing but an excuse to text Leanne. I’ve already checked the app on my phone for the answer now that she’s eleven weeks along. But she doesn’t need to know that.
Leanne
The size of a ping-pong ball apparently… but is that really any bigger than the cotton ball it was last week?
Me
Let’s find out.
I’m in one of the lodges doing inventory of the kitchen, so I head straight for the game room on the opposite side of the wall.
There’s a ping-pong table that hardly gets any use but may have finally found its purpose.
I grab one of the balls off the table, tossing it up and catching it as I stalk toward the bathrooms. I have a stash of random toiletries in one of the cupboards for when guests forget items, and cotton balls happen to be one of the many things I keep stocked.
I pull out a white ball of fluff, place it beside the ping-pong ball on the dark granite counter, and snap a picture to send Leanne.
Me
There’s definitely a difference.
Leanne
I guess so. Did you really have both of those lying around? That took you less than five minutes.
Me
I’m very resourceful ; )
The biting banter we had early on in our acquaintance has evolved into something more lighthearted over the past few weeks.
Leanne
Busy with work this weekend?
Am I crazy, or is she fishing for my weekend plans? I grin, hoping she is, even though I am busy this weekend.
Me
Unfortunately.
Dinner plans tonight and walk-throughs with clients over the next few days. You?
Leanne
Not really. I have a big conference next week though, so I’ll work from home to finalize everything.
Really hoping that excuse will fly for skipping yet another family dinner on Sunday…
Me
Good luck with that.
Speaking of family dinners. I’m going over to Alex and Delia’s tonight… Becca’s parents.
She doesn’t respond right away, and I stare at my phone, waiting for the bubbles to pop up.
The stretch of those moments allows the doubts I’ve been feeling about telling them to creep back in.
I’ve told myself they’ll be okay with this.
Becca has assured me they’ll be happy for me.
But it feels like a lot to ask of them after their own loss.
The dancing dots eventually appear, pulling me away from those thoughts. But they quickly disappear again, then reappear. This continues for several more minutes, and nerves tingle in my fingers.
Does she think it’s too soon to tell them? I know it’s early, but I don’t like having secrets from them and I know Becca doesn’t either.
Leanne
Are you going to tell them?
Me
I was planning on it. Is that okay?
Please say yes… If I back out now, it’ll be much harder to build up my confidence again.
Leanne
Yeah, sure.
Me
That’s not very convincing, blondie.
Leanne
It’s fine. I just wish I felt as ready to tell my family as you do.
Me
I can wait.
Maybe I should?
Leanne
No, don’t. It’s fine.
I’ve got to get back to work.
I groan. That feels like it could’ve gone better.
I switch over to the chat I have with Becca.
Me
Is it a bad idea to tell them tonight? Too soon? What if something happens?
This is a fear I’ve been grappling with more and more over the past week since seeing the ultrasound, since having my hand on Leanne’s stomach and telling her how badly I want this. I know the statistics of miscarriages in the first trimester. I know the risks are higher for women over thirty-five.
I lean against the bathroom counter and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe slowly. Two successive vibrations against my hand pull me back from the edge of a spiral.
Becca
It’s a little early.
But I know you. You’d want them to know no matter what happens, so you might as well tell them.
This was exactly my thought. If the worst happens, I’ll need their support… Just like before.
Me
You’re right. See you at seven?
Becca
I’m always right. It’s going to be fine.
I chuckle under my breath. I’m so grateful for Becca.
She’s been my anchor over the past couple of weeks when I’ve freaked out over all the unknowns ahead of us—Leanne and me, because I’m not in this alone.
But I can’t expect Leanne to understand the mix of crippling anxiety and absolute joy I’m feeling at any given moment.
But Becca… She gets it, and her frequent visits to the ranch show that.
And after tonight, I’ll have two more people in my corner. At least I hope I will.
I opt to walk to the big house when it’s time for dinner, grounding myself in my surroundings. The crunch of gravel under my boots. The smell of fresh fallen leaves and crisp mountain air. The lights on the porch up the hill.
After Sarah died, I thought I might have to leave this place, but I’ve never been more thankful Alex and Delia held on so tightly and wouldn’t let me go. This is my home, and I love it as much as I would if I’d been born into it.
Lord knows I’ve poured my heart and soul into it these past four years.
Sarah and I had talked about incorporating an events business into the ranch before she passed, but we never got around to making it a reality.
The year after the accident, we had a rough winter, and mismanagement by Monarch’s overseer nearly ruined everything.
That spring, I pulled out the old plans we’d drawn up, revised them, and added new ideas before presenting them to Alex and Delia.
I had enough money saved to invest in the barn remodel and I’d hoped it would bring in fresh revenue.
They were hesitant at first, but it’s been the best thing we ever did.
It gave them their ranch back, and it provided me with a renewed sense of purpose, a calling I could cling to after losing so much so quickly.
And as much as I loved working the land with Alex for all those years, it never fed my soul the way this has.
We broke even on the barn renovation in one year and have been turning a profit ever since, even with a shorter event season here in the mountains of Montana.
This ranch is my pride and joy as much as it is Alex and Delia’s.
That’s something I didn’t think I’d get to pass on to another generation… but now, I can.
I reach the front steps of their house and kick the dust off my boots before walking inside. I don’t even knock.
“We’re in here,” Alex calls from the kitchen, country music wafting toward me along with the scent of braising meat and spices.
When I round the corner, I find them doing the two-step to “Wagon Wheel” by Darius Rucker with smiles in their eyes and laughter on their lips.
Alex passes Delia to me, and I step in naturally, our movements carrying us through to the end of the song.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her hair. “I’ve still got it.”
“Someone taught you right,” she says, a little breathless.
She would know. Lord knows my biological mom wasn’t taking time out of her day to do it.
“Ah man, I missed the fun,” Becca says from the doorway, and we all turn to look at her. She’s wearing a pair of jeans over her cowboy boots and a Monarch Ranch crewneck sweatshirt.
“I’ll catch you on the next song, sweetheart,” Alex says, walking over to wrap her in a hug. “Glad you could make it for dinner.”
“Me too. It smells amazing.”
“Bryce told us he has news to share.” Delia raises her eyebrows at me. Heat creeps up my neck under her motherly stare. “He wouldn’t even give me a hint when I talked to him yesterday.”
I share a knowing look with Becca and instantly know we’re busted by the way Delia plants her hands on her hips. “You already know what it is, don’t you?” She purses her lips and glares at her daughter, but there’s no real bite to it.
“Maybe?” Becca squeaks, giving herself away.
“Okay, Alex, let’s get dinner on the table so this one,” she says and jerks her head in my direction, “can finally tell us.”
I give them both a sheepish look while Becca smirks at me in an I’m glad it’s not me sort of way.
The sun has already set, so the view outside the windows is dark. We take our places around the table and fill our plates, but everyone’s eyes are glued to me.
My throat is so dry I have to clear it a couple times to make space for the words I’ve prepared in my head.
“So, I do have news. Hopefully good news.” I let my gaze jump from Alex to Delia, and their attention is rapt, anticipation thrumming through the air.
Becca smiles in encouragement and my hesitation lifts a little.
“I met someone over the summer and”—I swallow, forcing myself to hold Alex’s studious gaze—“she’s pregnant. ”
Alex slow-blinks as the words sink in. My gaze tracks to Delia only to find her with her mouth dropped open.
“I… Hold on… You’ve been seeing someone?” she asks. Her voice isn’t accusatory, only curious. “Why didn’t we know this?”
She glares at Becca, as if it’s somehow her fault.
“It wasn’t a matter of keeping it from you. She and I… It’s complicated. We aren’t together, exactly.”
“Ohhh,” Alex chimes in, smile lines taking shape around his eyes, and Delia looks at him questioningly.
“‘Ohhh’ what, Alex?” Delia asks with a sass she passed down to both her daughters.
I step in to prevent this from going down a very awkward path. “She’s a friend—”
Becca snorts into her lifted glass, causing her to inhale some water and splutter. Good, serves her right. I shoot her a glare, and she holds up her hands—either to stop herself from choking or to placate me so I don’t toss my dinner roll at her.
“A friend?” Alex asks, looking between his daughter—who’s still attempting to clear the water from her lungs—and me.
“We’re still figuring things out. We don’t know each other that well—”
“On the contrary, it sounds like you know each other quite well,” Alex quips with a grin.
I hang my head and chuckle quietly, feeling a bit of the tension leave my body.
Delia laughs too and admonishes her husband with a hushed “Alex.”
“I’m just saying,” he responds with a shrug.