Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Her gasp cuts through the quiet.
“We’re asking for forever, Gracie,” I tell her. “We’re askin’ for you.”
“We want to make it official,” Harrison says gently from her other side.
Grace stares down at the ring. Then at me. “Can I…?”
I place it in her hand, and she slips the gold band on with trembling fingers. It fits like it was always meant to be there.
A sob catches in her throat, and then she throws her arms around my neck, pulling me in tight. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, to forever. Yes, to babies. Yes, to always explaining that I’m a greedy woman with eleven cowboys to call my own. Yes, to all of it.”
The cheer that erupts from the bed shakes the walls. Jaxon nearly topples off the end, Levi pulls the covers over his head, hiding the emotion on his face, and Dylan reaches out and grips Grace’s hand like he’ll never let it go.
I press my lips to her temple and whisper, “You’re ours, Grace. You always were.”
And at that moment, with her hand in mine and our family all around us, I knew we were stepping into the future we had planned. That crazy advert that brought us so much unwelcome attention achieved its aim. We found our very own cowgirl, and she’s so much more than we ever could have hoped for.
Forever starts here.
EPILOGUE
GRACE
The late afternoon sun is warm against my bare shoulders and brighter than it has any right to be this far into fall. I tug the hem of my shirt down over my belly. There's a loose stone on the porch step I kick away in case one of the kids trips and falls.
My pink cowboy boots are scuffed now. The leather has softened with worn-in creases, and little nicks and scratches tell the story of a dozen mornings and more than a few midnight wanderings. They still feel a little flashy and ridiculous but entirely mine, and a gift I'll carry in my memory for the rest of my days.
A scream of laughter erupts from the yard.
“Don't you dare pour that on her head, Matty!” I call without turning. I don't need to look. The kids are in full hyper mode, racing in and out of the hose spray, soaked to the bone. Matty's shirt is already plastered to his back. Junie's tutu is drooping, but she's still wearing it with defiance I deeply respect. Eli watches from the porch swing, a shy smile tugging at her lips, sketching in the book I bought her on my last trip into town. Dylan flicked through it last night and smiled. Beau rests his head on her lap, staring up at her like the two of them are having some kind of telepathic conversation.
Inside, someone's banging around. The screen door creaks and then slams.
“You make supervising look like an art form?” Cody grins at me, holding out a glass of lemonade before kissing my cheek. “You're glowing, darlin'.”
“Too much sun,” I lie.
He winks. “Too much love, maybe.”
I roll my eyes because there can never be too much love, and it sure is overflowing in this house. Maybe glowing is this: radiating so much peace and love from the inside that it shines through flesh to illuminate my complexion.
The kids scatter like wild things, attracting Beau's attention until he's off the porch and barking happily as he herds the chaos in loose, lazy circles. I watch them, one hand resting lightly over the slight swell of my belly.
It's still early, but I know. My body knew before the test confirmed it.
Dylan knows, too. He's been watching me more closely over the past few mornings, making sure I'm eating enough and getting extra sleep. He hasn't said a word, but his touch lingers longer when he passes me a plate or opens a door. A silent promise: I see you. I've got you.
I know he's more watchful because of what happened with Nora. He still blames himself for missing the signs of her spiral until it was too late. We heard news about her last week, and it wasn't good.
Three months ago, she'd checked into rehab. Dylan didn't say much about it, only that she'd finally agreed to go, and he hoped it would stick. The kids were her motivation, and he even went to visit to offer her the support he's so good at. When he returned, he said Nora looked clearer, like someone finding their way back through the fog. She sent Eli and Junie a drawing she'd done in art therapy. A wildflower in bloom. On the back, she wrote, I'm trying to be good soil, girls.
I cried when I read that. So did Dylan, but he did it quietly, covering it up by pressing a firm kiss to my temple and holding me close while he barely breathed. The respect I have for his care and consideration of the mother of his children is immense. He knows his girls will never be entirely at peace without a positive relationship with Nora.