“What?”
Presley nods. “Yeah, Mama has practically moved into Angie’s. I mean, you haven’t had a kid yet, so we’ve been watching her.”
They’re insane. I get Mama two days a week. “She’s at my house just as much as yours,” I whisper. “She reorganized my closet the other day because I wasn’t utilizing my space appropriately. I don’t need a kid to have her stoppin’ by.”
I love my mother-in-law. I love her so much, but since Rhett passed away, she’s been—bored. Very bored.
Angie has gotten the most attention since Felicity was born two weeks after he passed. “Oh no.” Angie shakes her head. “I definitely win.”
Presley waves her hand in the air to stop Angie. “She walked in the house when Zach and I were . . . you know . . .”
My hand flies to my mouth and Angie laughs. “That’s awkward.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m sure she’ll be around us more soon enough.” I smile.
“Enough talkin’ girls!” Wyatt claps his hands. “Time to show which of the Hennington brothers is the master of the universe.”
I roll my eyes, but Angie and Presley laugh at Wyatt. “I swear.”
Presley goes first and manages to hit the outer ring of the bull’s-eye. Zach, of course, lets her know that she’s going to have to step up her game if she wants the trip. Then Angie goes. She’s actually good at this. She gets two shots on the paper, and Wyatt lays a fat one on her before slapping her ass.
Now, it’s my turn.
Trent goes over a few things on the gun, and I pray that I can at least hit the target. Not that I care if I win, I wasn’t thinking far enough ahead to make a wager. I could’ve gotten the house painted or something good.
“Okay, you hold it like this.” Trent lifts the shotgun and tucks it into my armpit.
“Like this?” I ask as I start to spin, but he stops me.
“Okay, what was rule number one, Gracie?” he asks again.
“Down the way or something.”
“Keep the muzzle downrange. Downrange means not at me!” Trent holds my shoulders and points at the targets again.
I nod and try to remember I’m holding a loaded gun.
I don’t understand why he thinks this is a good idea.
“I don’t want to shoot it,” I complain.
“Sweetheart, you have to shoot it and hit the middle. We need to win this one since you didn’t train for the run.”
“Train for the run,” I mutter. He’s insane. This is a family competition, and they’re making it seem as if we’re going out for the Olympics.
I frown and try to remember what he said about my feet. Close together or apart? I think it was close together.
I adjust my feet and pull the trigger.
The gun goes off and pushes so hard against my shoulder I almost drop it. Shit that hurt. “Ouch!” I yell as he takes it from my hand. I rub the spot where it tried to take my shoulder off.
Trent laughs as he puts it on the shelf in front of us. “It has a nice kickback.”
“I’m going to kick you! And your stupid brothers.”
He moves closer and puckers his lips. “Is my sweet wife hurt?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
“Do you want me to rub it? We could sneak off now . . .”
I swear, we got married and he became a teenager again. I’m lucky I can walk right now. All he wants to do is have sex. All the time. Three times a day. Sometimes more.
Little does he know that’s all going to change soon.
“Aren’t you getting old and that part is supposed to stop working?” I say playfully but also a little curious. Those guys on the commercials don’t look much older than him.
We may still be considered newlyweds, but we’ve been together for a long ass time.
“Don’t tell me the sex is gone this soon into marriage. Zach told me this crap could happen.”
I smack his chest. “I’m worried about breakin’ the equipment.”
“Don’t you worry, there’s plenty of lube in my toolbox.”
“You’re so gross.” I laugh and then look at the target.
Cooper is examining the paper and yells “Grace is the winner!”
“What?” I shriek. “No way!”
“Boom!” Trent yells and points in his brothers’ faces. “Beginners luck! Losers!”
We move on to the other events. Each of the three brothers got to choose two events, and then Mama thought of the tiebreaker. Every event chosen was definitely to give an advantage, only we had no idea the girls would be competing in the one obviously geared for the guys. Now, though, it was chosen by coin toss. Damn Cooper and trying to switch things up.
“Okay, final event, sweetheart.” Trent puts his hands on my shoulder. “We need to win this one.”
“A drink off? You idiots picked an event for who can take the most shots?” I can’t believe these dumbasses. “Can we redo the coin toss?”
“Nope.” Wyatt grins.
“I guess it’s a good thing we did shooting as the first event.”
He nods and beams with pride. “That was by design.”
I’m not drinking. I’m not going shot for shot with freaking Wyatt who has a hollow leg. I’ve been there, done that, got the week-long recovery to prove it. I vowed that I would never be stupid enough to attempt that again. Plus, there are other reasons.
“Well, we are going to forfeit this event.”
“What?” Trent yells. “No way. We’re winning. If we get this event, we beat Wyatt and nothing in this world makes me happier than watching him cry.”
“Nothing, huh?” I ask as I cross my arms. “Not your wife?”
Trent’s expression falls a little. “You know what I mean, darlin’.”
Yeah, that he likes watching his brother in misery. I get it. I like watching Wyatt pout too, but not enough to kill myself for it.
“Trent, I really can’t drink Wyatt under the table on a good day.”
He looks at the amber colored whiskey and then back to me. “I have an idea,” he grins and walks off.
His good ideas usually end in some kind of accident. Like the time he thought it would be easier to spray paint the bedroom instead of rolling it. He failed to tape off the places he didn’t want paint and ended up having to hire two guys to come undo what he did. Then, last week, he thought we pay too much in electric and wanted to build a wind turbine because he saw it on some Alaska survival show. After an hour of trying to get the three wooden poles to stand upright, he quit.
I’m not sure what energy he thought we were going to get from it, there’s no wind.
But, as Mama always says, men are dumb, and we can only say that because we let them continue to try asinine things.
Trent returns with another bottle of whiskey, and now I’m worried. “You don’t think the two bottles on the table are enough?”
He leans in close and hands me the bottle. “Swap that out with the one you’re sitting by, it’s not whiskey.”
“Please God tell me this isn’t your hunting pee jug,” I beg.
He bursts out laughing. “I’ll be right back!”
“Trent!” I call him back. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“Baby,” he grumbles. “Just drink that and fake being drunk by your third. We all know that’s about all the liquor you can handle.”
That’s not true. “Hey!”
“Gracie, do you remember the wine?”
Whatever.
He leans in and kisses my lips. “I love you no matter how much of a light weight you are.”
I smile and go for another kiss. “I’m not going to be all that light.”
He laughs and misses my hint once again. I’ve been dropping them left and right, but he is either ignoring me, or too oblivious to catch on.
Trent and I have been trying to get pregnant for six months. I was told by the doctor to be patient and understand I’m older and it will be more diffic
ult. Each month, I’ve waited, hoped, and been let down. Trent does his best to comfort me and joke about getting to have more sex, but I see it wearing on him.
Last month, he held me as I cried about all our wasted time. I felt like shit afterward. It’s been a long road for us with mistakes on both sides. I should’ve pushed for what I wanted a long time ago, and he should’ve faced his fears head on.
It doesn’t matter now, though. We’re married, and we both love our life together. Oh, and it finally worked.
“You ready, Grace?” Cooper calls me over.
“Keep your pants on, Townsend,” Trent replies with a grin.
“I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Cooper jokes and walks away.
“Yeah right,” Trent scoffs. “Let me know when you hit puberty.”
Cooper flips him off, and I smother a laugh.
Cooper and Trent finally hashed out their issues. I didn’t ask questions, but Presley said Trent came over to thank Cooper not too long after we got back together. She said Cooper respects that Trent talked to him man to man. Since then, there have been big changes at the Townsend ranch with Wyatt becoming part owner. Trent has been there helping on the weekends with the upgrades to the barn.
“You ready, little sister?” Wyatt nudges my arm. “Just you and me. Since Presley can’t throw a tomahawk, it’s between us.”
“And this is the game we ended with?” I ask.
“My partner may have swayed the odds to my favor.”
“We’ll see. Maybe I’ve been training for this event since there was no way I was runnin’.”
Wyatt raises his arms over his head and grins. “I’ve seen you drink . . . I’ll be fine.”
I walk over to the side of the table where my special bottle sits. I’m really hoping this is apple juice.
Cooper goes over the rules, and I wonder if the intention of this tiebreaker was to watch someone break their leg.
“One member from each team was chosen by coin flip. You will each take three shots, stand, turn twice, sit back down, and wait for the air horn. At that time, you’ll run to the tree, collect the cup with the ping-pong ball, and run back. The person to complete the revolution the most amount of times, wins.”
“Really? I can barely walk sober!”
Wyatt sniggers. “I know.”
“Get him, Grace!” Presley yells out.
“Yeah, Aunt Grace!” Logan throws his arm up. “Or I can compete for you?” Zach slaps the back of his head, and we all chuckle. “What? I was being helpful.”
Macie snorts and rolls her eyes. “Don’t let him fool you, honey. Those boys were stealin’ our whiskey at your age.”
“Ma!” Zach complains.
“What? It’s true. You boys thought you were so smart. Little did you know your daddy would water that down. We had the moonshine hidin’ in my closet.”
“All right. Can we not give the already trouble causin’ teenagers anymore hints?” Presley asks.
“We wouldn’t want their uncle to have to arrest them for underage drinkin’.” Trent gives them each a pointed look.
“Yeah, because it’s not like he’d hang out and drink with them.” Wyatt is laughing as he says it but shrugs when Trent glares.
Unreal. They’re all the same as they were twenty years ago. It’s like time froze in their little man brains and kept them as immature teenagers. And then we all married them. I’m starting to wonder who the dumb ones are in this situation.
“All right. Go!” Cooper calls out.
We make it through the first round with me doing shots of apple juice. Wyatt doesn’t seem too fazed, and I’m grateful for so many reasons that it’s juice in my bottle.
On round number three Wyatt starts to show signs of being drunk. Thank God because I’m not faking it that great. By now, I should be on the floor and halfway dead. Nine shots would put me on my ass for a month.
But here I am, being slow, and wobbly off juice.
The air horn blows, and I wait for him to go. I need to appear as if I’m too drunk to get up.
This is so dumb.
Wyatt gets to the table on the other side and grabs his cup. “Come on, Grace! You gonna let a little whiskey slow you down?”
I give it a believable push when I stumble standing and then misstep as I pass him. I hear Wyatt chuckle, and then, thinking he’s won, he throws his drink in the air and screams. The ball flies out, which means he’s lost. All I need to do is bring my cup back.
“You idiot!” Angie slaps him. “If we lose because of this, you’re still getting up with Felicity!”
Wyatt gives her a salute, and I focus on looking drunk. This is a lot harder than I thought. I don’t usually pay attention to what I would do if I was drunk, but from the look on Trent’s face, I need to be more believable.
I get back to the table with my cup and yell. “Ha! I win!” I dance around a little and point at Wyatt. His head is dropped on the picnic table.
Trent’s arms are around me a few seconds later, and he hoists me in the air. “That’s my girl!”
“We beat you!” I point to my family as we celebrate.
“That’s right, suckers!” Trent follows in the taunting.
“Wait a minute,” Angie says as she comes around the table. “I’ve been drunk around you many times. I’ve seen you wasted so badly off five glasses of wine that you couldn’t walk. I’ve seen you after three shots, forgetting how to dance and function. There’s no way.” She swipes the bottle off the table before I can lunge for it. “I knew it!”
“I won!”
“You drank apple juice!”
Presley gasps and covers her mouth. “Grace, I’m shocked.” See, now that’s good acting. I know she’s not actually upset, she’s trying to keep her composure.
“Who swapped the bottles?” Trent asks. When no one pipes up he shrugs and throws his arm in the air. “Well, too bad, we won.”
Mrs. Hennington comes over and slaps Trent’s chest. “Don’t make me put you over my knee. Grace, honey,” her kind eyes hold mine, “why ever would you cheat?”
I can’t lie to her, but this wasn’t how I planned to tell Trent.
“Well,” I say slowly, making it a point to look at everyone. “You all know I can’t drink much and I wanted to win for Trent . . .”
Mama’s eyes narrow. “I don’t believe that.”
“Give me one minute,” I say and rush to the car. I was in charge of getting the cake from Angie. I told her to leave the top blank and I’d fill it in at home. So I did. I figured I would tell Trent first, but it seems it’s not going to work that way.
I grab the cake and pregnancy stick wrapped in a box. I walk over, and place it on the table. Everyone looks at me like I’m a little insane, and I want to strangle my husband for making me cheat.
“So,” I let out a shaky breath. “Today didn’t quite go as I planned, but that’s kind of par for the course with being married to you.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” I agree.
“So, you thought we should have cake?” Trent asks.
“Cake is always a good idea.”
“Well, at least it’s not your nasty black licorice,” Angie says, exaggerating a shudder.
“Why don’t you read the inscription,” I suggest to my husband.
Trent gives me an odd look and then lifts the box and reads it aloud. “Another Hennington is in the oven.”
Everyone goes quiet, and I turn to see Trent’s face. His eyes are soft as he steps closer. I don’t know if he comprehended what it means, because he’s still not speaking. “You’re pregnant?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“You’re pregnant?” Presley yells.
“I’m pregnant.”
Trent’s arms circle around me, and he pulls me close. “We’re havin’ a baby.”
I tangle my hands in the hair on the back of his neck and grin. “We sure are.”
His lips touch mine, and I fight back tears.
“We’re havin’ a baby!” Macie yells, and we all hug again.
Trent smiles at me and then kisses my forehead. “Yeah, I’m definitely the winner here today.”
Epilogue
Trent
~Eight years later~
“D on’t tell your mama about this.” I point at Hannah as I try to clean up the candy wrappers all over the table.
Hannah has me wrapped around that tiny little finger of hers. My sweet daughter with the blue eyes and blonde ringlets—she’s the Devil. At seven, she’s able to get me to do just about anything.
My mother warned me about giving in to her, but I had it under control. Now, I’m learning my daughter is the master of mind warfare.
“Okay, Daddy.” Hannah smiles. “But so I don’t forget . . . maybe you should take me by Nana’s and we should groom Sadie.”
She might have been the master’s trainer. She’s that good.
“I already said we have plans tonight and you can’t go see your horse.”
“But Mama said no candy, you forgot that.”
“Who are you?” I mutter as I go back to getting rid of all the evidence.
Grace has a very strict no candy policy in the house. She talks about the kids she teaches and how they’re always hopped up on sugar. I usually don’t fight her on it, but Hannah had those sweet eyes and pouty lip.
It’s the lip. It’s always the lip.
I’m in the middle of putting the last handful in the bag when the door flies open. “Hey, bab—” Her eyes zero in on my hand. “Trent!”
“It’s not as bad as you think. And she gave me the lip.”
Grace rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “She’s seven and you’re a cop. Unreal.”
I’m glad she knows I’m hopeless at this point. Hannah came into our world and flipped it upside down. She was a difficult baby that became a tiny terrorist. She never slept, crapped through more clothes than any human should, and was constantly puking. I swear, whatever went in was coming out one end or the other.
Not to mention Grace’s pregnancy was like Angie’s.
Say I'm Yours Page 23