CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Leanne
Last night feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
I don’t know if it’s Bryce’s bed, or if it’s this house, or if it’s the cocooned feeling of knowing the snow is thick outside, giving us an excuse to stay in all day, but I feel blissfully at ease this morning.
Yesterday was a roller coaster of emotions—high highs and low lows.
But with Bryce’s steady breaths beside me as I slept, I’m seeing things more clearly today.
For months I’ve been caught in a cyclone of dealing with the aftermath of Craig’s betrayal, the hurt I caused myself by not sharing it with anyone, and the tumultuous unknown of becoming a mother…
And then there’s Bryce. He’s been the calm, immovable presence I didn’t know I needed.
He’s given me every assurance that he’s in this, but I’ve still been holding back…
waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only…
I’m starting to think maybe there is no other shoe, no hidden motives or agendas, no reason not to trust him.
If he’s willing to give me everything of himself, why am I hesitant to do the same?
I reach for Bryce but only cool fabric meets my fingers.
I blink my eyes open and stretch, luxuriating in the softness of his sheets and the delectable soreness in my body.
This is the second time I’ve woken up this morning.
The first time was to the feel of Bryce’s hard length against my ass and our legs tangled together in the sheets.
It wasn’t long before he had me on my knees, hands gripping his custom headboard, to take me from behind.
Pregnant sex is interesting… Right now I’m turned on all the time, so that’s great, but we have to be a bit more creative with positions than I’m used to.
Not that I’m complaining. With Craig, after a year of trying, sex became a chore and the tenderness between us dried up long before that.
But with Bryce, there’s more tenderness than I ever could’ve imagined for such a rugged man.
I clearly fell back to sleep though, because the clock by the bed tells me it’s ten o’clock. Hell, I don’t think I’ve slept this late since college.
I swing my legs out of bed at the same time Bryce strides in wearing a pair of low-slung grey sweats and nothing else. His bare feet slap across the worn wooden floorboards, the muscles of his torso flexing and shifting, and in his hands are two mugs.
“Tea?” he asks, setting one on my bedside table.
My bedside table? Is that what I want? The immediate answer is yes, but the thought still scares me as much as it exhilarates me.
“Thank you. How long have you been up?” I ask, reaching for the cup and taking a long pull of the hot liquid.
“A couple hours. I got an email from a potential client and went down a rabbit hole.”
“A wedding?”
He shakes his head. “No, actually it’s a corporate retreat. We don’t do a lot of those kinds of events, so I’m a little out of my depth in terms of what they’re looking for.”
“Want me to take a look?” I offer, my T-shirt sliding down over my thighs when I stand up.
His eyes rove over me—my bare legs, his shirt taut across my baby bump. He reaches his hand out and presses it to the left of my belly button, where our little butterfly is most likely to move. She obliges, pushing out against his hand, and his whole face softens.
I raise my eyebrows when he finally meets my eye again. “Sorry, what did you say?”
I sigh; the man is so easily distracted. “I asked if you wanted me to look at what they sent over. Maybe I can help you figure out how to best accommodate them.”
“Yeah. Actually, that would be great. You don’t mind? It’s the weekend, you shouldn’t have to work.”
“Nah, it might be fun to see how my expertise and your venue work together when you and I aren’t being assholes to each other.”
“It turned out alright in the end…” He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “How about a shower? Then I’ll make you breakfast… or more like brunch.”
I turn to catch his lips with mine. “Yes to both.”
So… I might be in love with Bryce.
I’m certain I’m in love with his rainfall shower, and his homemade sourdough french toast, and the way he runs the ranch’s events.
But all those things—even the huckleberry syrup drizzled on the french toast—pale in comparison to the man himself. And I keep thinking that it’s only me and my own issues holding us back at this stage.
I’ve been sitting in the nursery for thirty minutes now, surrounded by my thoughts and the sound of the glider softly swishing as I rock back and forth.
Bryce turned his office into a nursery. He painted random colors on the wall for me to choose from. He taped off furniture placement.
He bought me this glider, remembering I liked it.
Every time I close my eyes, I imagine myself sitting here with our baby girl.
With my hands on my protruding belly, it feels more real than ever before.
I could have late night feedings in this chair.
We could change a million diapers in this room.
He could sway our baby girl to sleep with his feet on this carpet.
My heart yearns for all those things. And it’s tired of fighting with the part of my brain saying this is too good to be true—that I don’t deserve this. That part of me is afraid to say yes, to give him my whole heart, even if piece by piece he already has so much of it.
“Did you pick a color?”
My eyes open and my hand flies to my chest. Bryce leans against the doorway looking windswept, snowflakes in his hair and his cheeks a rough pink.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a chuckle. “How are my girls?” He walks over to place a hand on my belly.
Something about him calling us his girls makes my heart beat erratically in my chest.
His lips are cold and snow falls out of his hair when he kisses me, making me shiver. “You’re cold. All good down at the barn?”
Alex called him earlier to ask if he’d meet him down there to put blankets on the horses and ensure the heater was working.
“All good.” He kisses the tip of my nose this time. “So, did you pick a color?”
His eyes search mine, hope suffused under the words.
“What do you think about painting the wall behind the crib the dusty orange color, and leaving the rest of the walls white?”
He looks at the wall behind him and nods. “I like it. Which crib?” he asks tentatively.
“The walnut one, I think, and the matching dresser and changing table.” I look into his dark eyes and say, “Ask me where I want you to put them?”
“Where do you want me to put them?” he responds in a blink, each word blending into the next as they leave him in a rush.
“In this room, right where you taped off. It’s perfect.”
“You’ll move in?” His voice cracks and he falls to his knees next to the glider.
“I’ll move in.” I cup his jaw, his beard tickling the palm of my hand.
“Thank you,” he says with a reverence I don’t think I deserve.
Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to my stomach before bringing his lips to mine.
I let the kiss do the talking, too afraid to say the words I know are building inside me with each passing moment with this man, but another piece of my heart goes with him when he pulls away, and I hope he won’t break it.