by Jillian Dodd
I give the woman a big smile and say, “Thank you.”
Once home, the girls open their backpacks, throw a mess of papers at me, and then run to change out of their uniforms. Harlow is back down first, fully dressed in riding gear. She grabs a carrot muffin and some actual carrots and takes off for the stable, not bothering to wait for anyone.
I call down to let the stable manager know she’s on her way. I already had him saddle up the horses, just in case.
Ava, however, doesn’t come down, and after about thirty minutes, I start to get worried. I go upstairs, knock on her door, and then gently open it, finding her sitting in one of the swinging chairs in her hangout room.
“Your sister already went to the stables. Are you not in the mood for that?”
I get another shrug.
“Tell me about it,” I say, taking a seat in the other chair.
“I think I’m just jet-lagged,” she says.
“You probably are. At home, it’s nearly bedtime. Harlow interrupted us before we got to finish our conversation. How did your first day go? I saw you walking out with Fallon and another girl.”
“Yeah, that is Fallon’s best friend. Her name is Haley. She was nice to me when I visited, but I’m not too sure that she wants me around Fallon.” Her eyes get misty. “I miss my best friend. I kind of want to go home.”
“Was Haley mean to you?”
“No, she was nice—almost too nice.”
I laugh. “You’ve gotta be careful of people who are too nice.”
“I know, right?” she says. “Like, it seemed fishy to me. Like she’s up to no good. And it doesn’t help that she and Fallon are supposed to be best friends, but they both like the same boy named Keegan. And, when he sat next to me at lunch, I think it made them mad. But it wasn’t my fault! The teacher made him.”
“Why did she make him?”
“Because he and his friend were messing around in the lunch line. The teacher split them up. But it wasn’t so bad because I couldn’t sit by Fallon and Haley.”
“Why not?”
She lets out a big sigh. “The whole lunch process is tricky, honestly, and something they didn’t explain when I visited. When you go through the lunch line, you have to sit at the table in that order. Like, if you were behind me in line, we would have to sit next to each other. So it’s important that when you leave class, you line up with your friends. I didn’t know that, and Fallon and Haley didn’t tell me, so I ended up at a different table.”
“Did you talk to this boy?”
“Yeah, and he’s so nice. I found out that he has horses, too. But they live at their ranch in Wyoming. He says he misses them.”
“Did you invite him over to go riding?”
She lowers her head and nods. “I swear, I wasn’t flirting with him. I was just being nice. Talking. But I think that I made Haley mad. That’s when she started being really nice to me. And I don’t know what to do.”
“You can be friends with him. It’s okay. And, if I were you, I’d probably text Fallon, like you usually do.”
“I already did that. She wants to know everything we talked about, but I’m not sure if I should tell her everything because I think she’ll just tell Haley. And he doesn’t really like Haley. Says she’s kinda mean.” She lets out a dramatic sigh as she pushes her toes in the rug and then spins around in the chair. “The real problem is, what do I do about lunch tomorrow? He invited me to sit with him and his friend.”
“Is that where you want to sit?”
“Yes.”
“Then take him up on his offer.”
“But if I don’t sit with Fallon, she might get mad at me.”
“It would have been nice if Fallon had told you how it worked and asked you to sit with them, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but if she had, I wouldn’t have gotten to talk to him,” she says, a happy smile spreading across her face. “But I’m worried, if I sit by him tomorrow, she will get mad.”
“If she says something, just say that you sat with him because she didn’t invite you.”
“Oh, that’s a good point,” she says, giving me a hug. “You’re good at this stuff.”
“On that note,” I say, “why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll go for a ride before dinner? You need to name your horse.”
A short time later, Ava is on the horse in full equestrian gear and looking much older than she is. She pulls out her phone to take a picture of herself on the horse, which she named Thunder.
“Do you want me to take a photo of you?” I ask her.
“No!” she says a little too quickly.
“She’s Snapchatting,” Harlow says. “When can I have a phone?”
“Are you supposed to be on Snapchat?” I ask her. “Did your father approve that?”
“Of course,” she says, continuing to smile and snap away.
When we get back from the stables, Dawson is just getting home, walking in the door and sliding off his tie. It’s quite sexy. I mean, technically, we should be on our honeymoon.
I take a step toward him, but the girls are faster, calling out, “Daddy,” and telling him all about school.
After patiently listening to everything that happened, he tells them to go up and get dressed for dinner. Then he takes my hand and leads me into our bedroom, where he shuts the door and immediately presses my back against it, giving me a hard kiss.
“How’s my gorgeous wife?”
I bite my lip, afraid if I open it, everything will tumble out in one big jumble.
“What?” he says. “The girls look happy.”
“It’s just—no, you’re right. They are happy. There are just a lot of moving parts.”
He gives me a grin. “First days are always crazy, even without switching schools. Wait until they come home in tears.”
I touch my hand to my heart. “I’m not sure I can take that.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his hand across my belly.
“A little tired honestly.”
“Hmm,” he says, kissing down the V in my blouse. “I’d suggest a bottle of red and a roll in the hay with your new husband, but maybe we’ll have to go with a cup of tea and a full-body massage instead.”
“You’ve tried to massage all of me before,” I tease.
“Well,” he says, kissing me, “some of your parts are very distracting.”
After dinner, we watch a movie and then tuck the girls into bed.
When we retire to our room, I find a cup of tea at my bedside table with an envelope tucked under it. “What’s this?”
“A wedding gift from my family. Open it,” he says.
Inside is a brochure from an exclusive spa and resort down the coast in Mexico.
“Are we going on a honeymoon?”
He pulls me into his arms. “Yes, my parents are coming to stay here for the week, if that’s okay with you. They’ll watch the girls, so we can go on a proper honeymoon.”
“Do you think we should go? I feel bad, leaving the girls when we just got here.”
“Vanessa, your house is like its own resort. Everyone will have a great time. My dad can watch football down in the theater room and will be in heaven. And it will be warmer here than at home. I think we should take them up on it.”
I look up into his dark eyes, meeting his gaze, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I think it’s an amazing gift, Dawson.”
“I have something for you, too. It’s not really a wedding present per se. I had it planned before you said yes. I wanted to show you when we got home, and I was praying you wouldn’t discover it on your own today, but things were crazy with the girls last night. I want this to be … special.”
“Dawson, what did you do?”
“Why don’t you come see?” He takes my hand and leads me out of our suite.
Nestled just off to the right is a room that was supposed to be my office, but it turned out to be too small and a little too close to the bedroom. I felt like I neede
d some mental and physical separation between the two, so I commandeered what were supposed to be two additional garage spaces to use instead. It also allowed me the ability to bring clients to my office without them having to come into the house.
Currently, the room is filled with racks of designer clothes that I wore when I was married to Bam.
He opens the door and flicks on the light then steps back to allow me to enter. When I hesitate, he gently guides me into the most perfect nursery I have ever seen.
“I didn’t do a nursery last time,” I say flatly, tears filling my eyes. “I was afraid I’d jinx my pregnancy.”
“I know,” he says softly.
I take in the details of the room. The wall behind the crib is covered in a tufted beige linen, making it feel like a cocoon. The crib is white oak and filled with linens in pastels—from the palest of blues to the softest of pinks. There’s a beautiful silk Oriental rug in a deep brown sitting under a blue velvet sofa. Gold accents highlight a mid-century modern chandelier, the dresser’s handle pulls, and numerous picture frames.
And the tall stuffed giraffe that decorated the playroom during my first pregnancy is holding court, seemingly overseeing the room.
“It’s so beautiful and snuggly,” I say, picking up a teeny white onesie draped over a brass ladder next to the changing table. “You did all this?”
“Well, technically, no. But I did tell Peyton that I wanted a room that felt cozy and calming. No bright colors. The playroom can be for that. I want this to be a soothing sanctuary. And we basically chose the color scheme to go with the giraffe. There’s something about him,” he says, walking up to the tall stuffed animal and petting his head, “that seems protective.”
I walk over and pet the giraffe’s nose. “He was the first thing I bought for the playroom. What’s with the golden crown?”
“I snuck the girls in here this morning while you were getting ready. They decided to name the giraffe Princess Artemis Patches. But beware; now, they think they are so brilliant that they should be allowed to name the baby.”
“It’s actually a very interesting name. How did they come up with it?”
“Well, Ava did an Internet search and discovered that Artemis was the Greek goddess who protected the vulnerable. And Harlow liked Patches because of the giraffe’s spots.”
“Protects the vulnerable. That’s so sweet. Thank you,” I say, falling into his arms.
He tightly wraps them around me and just holds me.
A few moments later, he says, “Are you sure you’re not upset? Our baby is going to be perfect. You got pregnant against all odds. I know everything will be okay this time.”
Tears fill my eyes. It’s not just the pregnancy hormones flowing through my body; it’s because of this wonderful man who has flipped my life on its ass.
“It’s the best gift I have ever received—well, besides you getting me pregnant, moving in with me, letting me be part of your girls’ lives, marrying me, and most of all, loving me.”
Tuesday, November 4th
Asher Vineyards — Sonoma County
RILEY
I pull onto the vineyard property and see Logan’s truck out in the field, so I park on the shoulder and hop out.
“How’s it going?” I ask, greeting him with a warm handshake.
“Good. This is my favorite time of year. We’re through with harvest, and all the wine is now fermenting in barrels—meaning Maggie and I are getting ready to take our vacation.”
“Where are you going this year?”
“Thailand and Singapore. Some sightseeing and then some serious relaxing.”
“You’re both so adventurous in where you travel. I think it’s awesome.”
“Yeah, well, we decided kids aren’t in the cards for us, so we’re going to enjoy the fact that we can take off for a month without a care. Hey, speaking of kids and all that, what’d you ever decide about that house? We gonna be neighbors again?”
“I made them an offer this weekend,” I admit.
“Before you found out about Shelby and the baby?”
“Yeah. It was good to spend time with my family in the Hamptons. I had a long talk with my parents, and they said they weren’t opposed to coming to stay out here. That’s really all I needed to hear.”
“Speaking of hearing things,” he says, stopping to examine a vine. “I heard you’re becoming a monk.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean, the celibacy thing. That’s the plan.”
“I’m pretty sure hell just officially froze over.” He shakes his head and chuckles.
We both turn around as we hear a vehicle heading our way. Grandpa Douglas stops the Gator and gets out. He’s wearing overalls, a flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and a star-studded brown cowboy hat.
“Hollywood,” he says, cuffing me on the shoulder and looking happy to see me. “Did you hear the news? I’m pitching a new reality TV show to Captive Films. It’s called The Celibate Life.”
He and Logan break out in a fit of laughter.
“Sex is like air,” Logan agrees. “It’s not important until you’re not getting any!”
“All right, that’s enough,” I say, raising my hands in defeat.
“You know what they say, Hollywood,” Grandpa says. “Having sex is like playing cards. If you don’t have a good partner, you damn well better have a good hand.”
“Thanks for your support,” I say. “On that note, I think I’ll head up to the winery.”
“Aw, now, son, don’t go pouting up to the women. Hey, heard through the grapevine—” He chuckles at himself. “Get it? That you made the Callahans a mighty generous offer on their house, contingent on getting your former flame’s approval.”
“What?” Logan says. “I thought you were doing it for you?”
“I am. I just wanted a woman’s opinion.” I roll my eyes. “You guys need to mind your own grapevines.”
I give them a wave, get back in my car, and make my way to the winery, eager to see Ariela.
“Wow, you’ve spruced up the place,” I say when Maggie leads me up to Ariela’s new office.
“It’s coming along nicely,” Ariela says, looking over her glasses at me.
She’s sitting at her desk and her assistant—the ripped, handsome, young asshole—Kyle, is leaning over her shoulder, his body grazing against hers.
And I fucking hate it.
Behind me, I hear the sound of someone else coming up the stairs. I’m shocked to discover it’s Ariela’s mother.
“Mrs. Ross,” I say, greeting her. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, son,” she says warmly, gently patting my hand. “But I believe you’ll be seeing a lot more of me in the future. My daughter has offered me a job, and I’ll tell you all, I have decided to accept.”
Ariela gets up and gives her mother a hug. “That’s so wonderful, Mom.”
“Hey, Kyle,” I say, firmly shaking his hand when what I want to do is break it off his arm for touching my girl.
“Hey, man,” he says coolly, like he hasn’t a care in the world—least of all the fact that I want to whoop his ass.
“I was sent to inform you,” her mother says to Ariela, “that you and Riley should head up to the guesthouse, pronto. Your lunch will be served shortly.”
“Oh, okay.” She steps back to her desk, grabs her cell, and then steps in front of me.
“Hey,” I say, giving her an awkward hug.
She leads me down the stairs. We hop on a golf cart, and she drives.
“It’s good to see you, Riley,” she says, the wind blowing her hair back as she presses down on the gas pedal.
“You, too.” Why the fuck do I feel so awkward?
“We might as well finish talking about it now, Riley,” she says, cutting to the chase. “How are you feeling about everything?”
“I’m sorry if I was rude on the phone. Honestly, I was upset. Really upset,” I say, my voice cracking.
She stops the cart even though w
e aren’t there yet and turns to face me. “Because you cared for her?”
“No, because of the baby. Like, at first, when I found out she was pregnant, I was just trying to be a man and do the right thing. But I’ll be honest. I wasn’t happy about it.”
I stop and push a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Our gazes meet.
“Keep going, Riley. I need to understand how you are feeling. It’s important.”
“When we had the scare with her spotting and shit got real, I decided that it might not be as awful of news as I’d first thought. I was warming to the idea. But then, when she showed me her ultrasound, it was just so … unbelievable. It touched me”—I pat my chest—“deep down, and I suddenly realized that I wanted the baby.”
She looks away from me and hits the gas pedal again, shooting us up the hill. She’s quiet until we stop in front of the guesthouse, our lunch being laid out on the terrace.
I grab her shoulders and make her face me. “It’s like I finally embraced it, only to find out it wasn’t mine. She lied to me. And it hurts.”
It’s then that she finally hugs me. And this hug is tighter than usual.
I push her chin up with my finger and softly kiss her. “I have a favor.”
“Since you’re going celibate, I guess I can rule out the sexual kind.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, probably. I still want you to go see the house with me. Today. After lunch.”
“Fine,” she agrees.
We sit down at the table and have a wonderful lunch, but the conversation between us feels stiff, and I’m not sure why.
When we go to the house though, she sparks up. “Riley, it’s beautiful. A little updating, and it would be amazing. Look at this view.”
“Does that mean you like it?”
“Yeah, Riley, I do.”
“Good,” I say, letting out my breath. “’Cause I made them an offer this weekend that they couldn’t refuse.”
“So you didn’t really need my input?” she says, sounding pissed.
