“Really?”
“Really.” He ran his thumb along the side of her hand. “You’re probably the first sane thing to come into my life in a long time.”
He thought she’d make a snarky comment about how little she qualified as “sane”, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t loosen her grip on his hand either. He wished he could see her—that wasn’t happening tonight, though. Beneath the cool cloth, the Christmas lights still flickered.
But even more than he wanted this damned migraine to go away, he wished he could see her face and know what she was thinking right then.
He swallowed. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Matt swept his tongue across his dry lips. “If you and Jon hadn’t split up, and you weren’t pregnant, do you—”
“Would I have gotten back in contact?”
He nodded gingerly.
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’d thought about it a lot. And I tried to pick up the phone so many times, but couldn’t make myself do it.” She paused. “I looked you up on Facebook a few times, but…”
“I did too.”
She tensed beside him. “You did?”
“Yeah. I wanted to make sure…” That you were still alive. That the cancer hadn’t come back. “I guess I was trying to work up the courage to friend you, but couldn’t do it.”
“Yeah. Same here,” she said, barely whispering, and probably not just for the benefit of his migraine. “I know it doesn’t make much difference now, but a day didn’t go by that I didn’t think about you.”
He slipped his fingers between hers. “Me too. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
Chapter Eighteen
So much for the morning sickness getting better.
While Matt was hopefully still asleep in her bed, Dara clung to the toilet and puked again. She cringed at the thought of him hearing her getting sick. Which was stupid. It wasn’t like he’d never heard her throw up before. He’d witnessed the worst parts of chemo, and if it ever put him off, he’d never let it show.
But they hadn’t been sleeping together back then. She didn’t imagine seeing or hearing her retch was much of a turn-on.
Eventually, her stomach let up. She spat a couple of times and then sat back against the cool wall and closed her eyes. The nausea hadn’t completely passed yet, but sometimes sitting still and taking some slow, deep breaths could settle her stomach enough.
God, this sucked. Between the morning sickness and whatever hell her labor turned out to be, she’d have no shortage of leverage to use against the kid.
“Mom is mean? Oh, sweetheart. Just clean your room. Don’t you realize how many mornings you made me spend hugging a toilet because of—”
“Okay, okay. Fine.”
She laughed at her own ridiculous thought. This poor kid had no idea what he was in for.
Her stomach was as settled as it was going to be, so she flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth. When she came out of the bathroom, Matt was sitting up in bed, rubbing his temples.
He lifted his head, squinting as if the light were way too bright. He was pale, which made the stubble on his jaw stand out even more. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” she croaked. “You look like shit.”
He rubbed his eyes again and muttered, “So do you.”
“Yay. Twinsies.”
He laughed halfheartedly. “We’d probably fit right in at IHOP or something.”
Dara gagged and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Matt winced. “Damn. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just…” She waved her hand. “Food. No. Not for a few hours.” She swallowed, and when she was sure her stomach was back where it belonged, she asked, “How’s your head?”
He groaned.
“That good, huh?”
“Eh, it’s getting better.” He rubbed his temples again. “It’s mostly that shitty queasy hangover feeling. I’ll take it over the real thing, but it still sucks.”
“Wow. We are a good pair today.”
“Great.” He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but he didn’t stand. Holding the mattress, he closed his eyes and took some slow breaths. “Ugh.”
“Can you make it downstairs?”
He opened one eye. “Is there coffee downstairs?”
“There will be in a minute because I need some. Stat.”
“I thought you said no food.”
“Coffee isn’t food. Coffee is oxygen. Black, delicious, liquid oxygen in a cup.”
“But it’s—”
“It’s all for me if you keep trying to convince me not to drink it.”
“Point taken.” Gingerly, he stood. “You mind if I grab a quick shower?”
“Not at all. Towels are in the closet. Use anything you need.”
“Thanks.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his calloused skin hissing over his unshaven jaw. “I can probably shave later.”
“You look fine like that.” She grinned. “Scruffy suits you.”
Matt laughed. “Well, maybe since I don’t have to look presentable for work anymore, I should grow out one of those lumberjack beards.”
“If you do, I swear to God, I will steal the clippers from your sister’s barn and shave it while you’re asleep.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You know, anyone else I would think was just joking. But you—”
“I am so not joking.”
Matt chuckled. “Duly noted. All right, let me get a shower, and I’ll join you for coffee.”
While he went into the bathroom, she headed downstairs. The coffeepot was on a timer, but she’d fallen asleep next to Matt last night, and she’d forgotten to set it up. Which meant waiting. For coffee.
On any other morning after any other night in bed with him, waiting a few minutes for coffee would’ve been okay. After all, once the two of them got started, there was no stopping for anything, not even coffee. Last night had sucked, though. And this morning hadn’t been great for either of them. If ever there was a morning for her household appliances to come to life like they were in a Disney film, this was it. But no.
And the woodland creatures probably won’t show up and clean my house either. Thanks, Obama.
Fortunately, the coffeepot didn’t take long to make enough to fill half a cup. She’d work her way through that while the rest of it brewed.
She cautiously sipped her coffee. As long as the first swallow went down, she’d be okay, and thank God, it did.
By the time she’d finished that precious half cup and was starting to fill another, she was pretty sure she’d make it through the morning.
Matt’s footsteps started down the stairs, so she poured him a cup of coffee. When he walked into the kitchen, stubble still darkened his jaw, but he had some more color in his cheeks now.
She handed him the cup.
“Thank you,” he said, taking it in both hands. “Oh God, coffee…”
“Right?” She smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Much.” He carefully took a sip. “What about you?”
“Better, but it might be touch and go for a few hours.”
He grimaced. “Just morning sickness, right?”
She nodded. “First time in a few days too.”
“It’s not every day?”
She shook her head. “It was for a few weeks, but it hasn’t been lately. Some days, I get it. Some days, I don’t. But it’s getting better.”
“Good to hear.”
“Tell me about it. I just hope it really does clear up completely in the second trimester. My mom said she had it until the day I was born.” Dara groaned. “God, if that happens…”
“If that happens, this
baby is so grounded.”
She laughed. “Until he’s thirty.”
Matt wagged his finger at her stomach. “You hear that, kid? Twenty-five to life if you keep making your mom sick like that.”
Dara’s laugh got stuck in her throat. “Mom. Wow.” She shook her head. “It’s weird, thinking I’m going to be somebody’s mom.”
“Yeah. I feel the same way about being someone’s dad.” He slid a hand over her stomach and kissed her temple. “You’d almost think we were adults or something.”
Dara laughed, resting her head beneath his chin and her hand over his. “Who the hell let that happen?”
“No kidding.” He glanced out at the driveway. “Do we still need to bring anything in?”
She shook her head. “No, the crib was the last of it.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Thank you again, by the way.” She smiled. “I really appreciate you going out and getting everything.”
“Don’t mention it. We’re in this together.”
And thank God for that. Going into this alone had been intimidating as hell.
The thought didn’t do a damned thing for her stomach. She closed her eyes and took some slow breaths. There’d be other fun bullshit later in her pregnancy, but she couldn’t wait until the daily nausea was good and gone.
“You still queasy?” Matt asked.
“A little.” She opened her eyes. “I’ll be okay as long as nobody makes me smell anything horrible.”
He pursed his lips. “What about motion?”
“What kind of motion?” She arched an eyebrow. “Because so help me, if you think I’m in the mood for sex right now, I will—”
“No, no, not sex.” He chuckled and waved that suggestion away. “I still feel a bit like crap myself anyway.” Turning serious, he met her gaze. “I was actually thinking we could go on a trail ride.”
Dara slowly released her breath. “You know what? A trail ride sounds like heaven.”
By the time they reached the barn, Dara felt more or less human, and though Matt’s face was shaded by a baseball cap and sunglasses, he looked like he had his normal color back in his cheeks. If not for the fact that he hadn’t shaved, she never would’ve guessed he’d felt even a little bit off.
He parked beside the barn office, and as they got out of the truck, she said, “I haven’t even been on a horse in years.”
“Miss it?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Matt smiled as they started into the barn. “Oh, I think I can relate.” He took off his hat and glasses. “First time back in the saddle last year, I swear to God, I almost cried.”
“Well, if I do, you know what to do.”
“Blame the hormones?”
“Precisely.”
He touched his forehead in a playful salute. “Now let’s see who I can put you on.” He pursed his lips, gazing down the aisle at all the heads looking over their stall doors. “Oh, I know. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared down the aisle and came back with a bay gelding. Baxter, according to the engraved brass plate on the halter. Matt clipped the cross ties to his halter and showed her where the brushes were. While Dara brushed Baxter, Matt brought his gray mare out of her stall and tied her in the aisle at the next set of cross ties.
Once both horses were groomed and saddled, Matt and Dara led them outside, Matt pausing to put his hat and sunglasses back on. They both tightened the cinches on their saddles.
“You need any help?” Matt asked.
“Getting on?” She glared playfully at him. “I think I can handle it.”
He chuckled. “Just checking. You said yourself it’s been a while.”
“It hasn’t been that long, thank you very much.” Reins and saddle horn in one hand, she put her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up into the saddle. As she eased herself down, she immediately understood why Matt had almost cried. Had it really been that long since she’d ridden? How in the world had that happened? But she was here now, sitting comfortably in a saddle, watching the sun play on Baxter’s shiny black mane, and a million memories flooded her mind. Trail riding with Matt and Beth. Racing between pastures. Competing in the rodeo—she never had been able to beat Beth, but damn that had been fun.
As much as she loved the idea of galloping over the rolling hills, her stomach was still a little off today. As she gathered her reins, she turned to Matt, who’d gotten on his mare. “Would you think less of me if I don’t think I can handle more than just walking this time?”
“Not at all.” He grimaced. “I’d just as soon keep it slow and steady today myself.”
“Fine by me. Does this mean we’re old?”
“Probably. Oh well.”
They both chuckled and headed away from the barn. Two or three weeks ago, the motion of Baxter’s gait would’ve had her heaving into the dust. Especially after the way her day had started. Her stomach was behaving now, though, and the gentle sway was wonderful.
There’d been a time when she’d known these trails like the back of her hand. She’d ride over from her house, and after practicing barrel racing and pole bending and all the other myriad events she’d enjoyed, they’d kill an afternoon riding around back here while their horses cooled down.
Some of the trails were different now. A few of the pastures had been rebuilt, rerouting some of the paths, and the overgrown trails in the woods had been cleared. Like everything in Aspen Mill, it was different and the same all at once. Like coming home.
She turned her head to ask Matt if he still rode back here as often as he had back then, but the words didn’t come. Something about the way the sun was hitting his face, picking out his cheekbones and the shape of his lips, not to mention the stubble still darkening his jaw, took her breath away. A few flecks of gray sparkled in the light, both on his jaw and on the side of his head. Time had chiseled away some of the boyish roundness in his face and added some subtle lines, and now that she really checked him out, he had looking good down to an art form. Even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes, he was stunning.
Matt Coolidge, you really did grow up, didn’t you?
He glanced at her, then did a double take, apparently realizing she was staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and fussed with her reins. “I was just thinking…” That either the hormones really have gotten the best of me, or you are a lot hotter than you have any right to be. She cleared her throat, turning to him again. “This kid’s going to be born hooked on horses.”
“Good.” Matt smiled, turning her insides to liquid. “We can teach him to swear while we’re teaching him to ride.”
Dara laughed. “Obviously. No one can ride without swearing.”
“Exactly.”
And I swear, I’m losing my mind.
Chapter Nineteen
Between the trail ride and a shower after they came back to Dara’s place, Matt finally felt human again. Some faint throbbing lingered in the base of his skull, and his peripheral vision still wasn’t great, but the hungover feeling was gone. All he needed was some food and caffeine, and he’d be good as new.
Neither of them was in the mood for anything complicated, so Dara pulled out some sandwich fixings. Despite the cramped confines of the kitchen, they navigated without tripping over each other. Not that making a couple of ham-and-cheese sandwiches and pouring some coffee required a lot of elbow room.
They leaned against the counter, each holding a plate to catch crumbs, and didn’t talk as they ate. The silence was comfortable, though—it was one of the things Matt had forgotten he loved about Dara. They could talk until they were blue in the face, but this was fine too. She was one of the few people in the world he could sit with in silence and not be sweating over what to say or wondering why the other person wasn’t talking.
Ev
entually, Dara set her plate on the counter and dusted the crumbs off her hands. “So, I think I came up with at least one possible name for the baby.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m still drawing a blank for a girl, but if we have a boy…” She looked in his eyes. “I think we should name him after his dad.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Middle names, I don’t know.” She smiled. “I do like the name Matthew.”
His heart fluttered. He put his own plate aside. “You know that’ll be a dead giveaway, right? To anyone who knows us?”
Dara nodded. “Yes. I do. And I think I’ve just run out of energy to care about what people in this town think.” She came across the kitchen, rested her forearms on his collarbones and slid her fingers into his hair. “Let them think whatever they want.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist. “This is… I don’t even know what to say.”
She smiled. “This is our baby, Matt. Not mine. Every time I start thinking about names, I just keep coming back to yours.” She shrugged. “It just makes sense, you know?”
“I think I’m still getting it through my head that we’re having a baby at all.”
“Tell me about it.” She kissed him lightly. “But we don’t have to make a decision tonight. It’s just an idea.”
“I like the idea so far.”
“Me too.”
He smoothed her hair. “So, what do you want to do with tonight?”
“Well, there’s always Call of Duty if you want to shoot some shit.”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure my eyes are quite ready to focus on the screen.”
“I thought the migraine was gone.”
“It is, but it can kind of fuck up my vision for a while.”
“So, a game wouldn’t trigger another one?”
“No, no.”
“But your vision would give me a notable advantage.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Only you would look at it that way.”
“Hey, I’ll take any advantage I can get.”
“Mmhmm.”
She trailed a fingertip up the back of his neck. “Okay, so games are out. What do you want to do with the evening?”
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