by Liz Isaacson
“I’m sorry,” she said to Jeremiah, who had his head down. He immediately looked up, pure concern in his eyes. It shone like a star in the natural light in the room, and Whitney reached for his face. “I didn’t cheat on you. I went to the bakery to get the cake, and Blake was there. He surprised me, because I didn’t even know he was in town. And he kissed me before I’d said three words.”
“I know.” Jeremiah nodded.
“I took a nap at my house while I waited for the cake,” she said. “That was all.”
“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Whitney. I shouldn’t have walked away from you yesterday, and I did it twice.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m kind of a wreck right now.” Her voice was choked and much too high. “These are happy tears, I swear.”
“I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused.”
“I love you too.” He hugged her, and the scent of his skin, his aftershave, his shampoo, was so comforting. “What if—what if something’s wrong with our baby?” Whitney couldn’t fathom the thought of losing something she wanted so much. Something Jeremiah wanted.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “The doctor will be in soon, and then you’ll see.”
As if summoned by Jeremiah’s words, the curtain snapped open, and someone said, “Knock, knock.”
Jeremiah straightened and looked toward the door. A woman entered, a bright smile on her face. “Let’s check on your baby, shall we?” She pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Whitney’s heartbeat while Jeremiah looked on nervously.
“Let’s do her bp again,” she said. “Her heart rate is down from what’s on the chart.” She smiled at Whitney again. “I’m Doctor Lucas. I’m the OBGYN on call in Emergency. You’re about six weeks along?”
“Yes,” Whitney said. “Will we…can we hear the heartbeat?”
“It’s a little early for that,” Doctor Lucas said. “I could do an ultrasound, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your baby.” She looked at the nurse. “She’s not bleeding?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I think you just need to eat,” Doctor Lucas said. “And drink a lot more than you ate or drank this morning. You work on your feet?”
“Yes,” Whitney said, another dose of foolishness punching her in the back of the throat.
“You need rest, ma’am,” the doctor said. “Food, water, prenatal vitamins.” She looked at Jeremiah. “You’re the husband?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swiped his cowboy hat right off his head, and he looked so darn cute. “I’ll take her home and take good care of her.”
“I’m sure you will.” Doctor Lucas looped her stethoscope around her neck again. “She can go as soon as she feels strong enough.”
Hours later, Whitney let Jeremiah escort her into the homestead and take her directly to the couch. She’d wanted to leave the hospital an hour before anyone else would let her, Jeremiah included.
Micah and Wyatt fawned over her, bringing her a big glass of water and a bag of pretzels. Jeremiah set to work in the kitchen, making what would be their dinner at this point. Whitney dozed in and out of consciousness, aware of the Walker brothers talking around her. They didn’t bother her; if anything, their presence was a comfort to her.
“Whitney, baby,” Jeremiah said lovingly, wiping a cool cloth across her forehead. “Wake up, okay?”
She opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times. The homestead was full of people, and she tried to sit up.
“Go slow,” Jeremiah said.
“I’m okay,” she said even as a sharp pain tore through her forehead. “My head hurts.” And her mouth felt like a furry animal had crawled inside and died. “I’m thirsty.”
Evelyn appeared with a glass of water, and Rhett had pills in his hand. Jeremiah took them and handed them to Whitney, who swallowed them while everyone watched.
“Family meeting,” Jeremiah said. “Whitney’s pregnant, and we had a little scare this morning.”
Cheers erupted, as did things like, “I told you that was why she wasn’t well,” and “I knew it. Congratulations, Miah.”
“We’re going to pray over the food,” Jeremiah said loudly. “And then we’ll explain everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jeremiah basked in the energy at the homestead. He loved having people over, though he wished he’d thought better of it as Whitney’s face didn’t get much color into it, even after she’d eaten, had something to drink, and taken some medicine.
He watched her but kept participating in the conversations around him. With so many announcements and meetings lately, he thought maybe they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. But the Walkers were all loud, and Callie, Evelyn, Simone, and Ivory had learned how to survive among them.
“And that’s it,” Jeremiah said. “She’s okay. She just needs to rest and make sure she gets enough to eat.”
“Good thing she’s married to you,” Rhett said. “You’d keep us all fed if you could.”
Jeremiah chuckled, but he didn’t deny it. He did like taking care of people, because it made him feel useful. Whitney reached over and slipped her hand into Jeremiah’s. He smiled softly at her, and Simone said, “We should go.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
“Okay, time to go.”
“Thanks for dinner.”
Everyone started standing up and putting their dishes in the sink, throwing napkins in the trash, and giving hugs goodbye. Liam, Callie, and Simone went out the back door, a little girl with them, holding Callie’s hand.
Liam whooped and laughed as he scooped Denise into his arms and swung her around to his shoulders. The three-year-old squealed and laughed, and Jeremiah watched Callie gaze up at her new daughter, all smiles and giggles too.
Happiness moved through him, and he whistled for the dogs to come back before he closed the back door behind them. He followed everyone else to the front door, where he hugged Tripp and Rhett, Evelyn and Ivory, and he, Micah, and Wyatt said good-bye to everyone. That door closed too, and a sense of silence descended.
“I’m exhausted,” Wyatt said. “Taking Kessler out today was harder than I thought.” He limped away from the door, a groan emanating from his throat. Winston went with him, as the dog seemed to want to be around Wyatt when he needed help.
“I’ll get him settled,” Micah said. “And then I’m going to go for an evening walk.” He wore a mischievous glint in his eye, and Jeremiah knew exactly what it meant. He’d met someone.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“There are three single women out here,” Micah said. “You’ll have to guess.” He grinned as he followed Wyatt, and the two of them disappeared down the hall that led to the bedrooms. He could never go to bed at eight o’clock, as he’d be up by midnight. But he wasn’t recovering from major back surgery either.
He returned to the kitchen with Willow, where Whitney still sat the huge dining room table. “Let’s get you to bed.” He extended his hand toward her, and she smiled those ruby red lips at him, put her hand in his, and stood up.
She stepped gingerly, and Jeremiah moved slowly with her. “Are you okay?”
“I feel about ten years older,” she said. “I know I slept, but I’m still tired. I just feel sort of…off.”
Jeremiah nodded. “You have to let me know what you need. I’ll get it. Do it. Whatever.”
“I want to lay in bed and watch something on my tablet,” she said. “I need my phone and my appointment book.”
He left her in the bedroom to change into her pajamas while he went to get her appointment book from her office. Back in the bedroom, he found her bed, tapping and swiping on her tablet. He handed her the book and leaned over to touch his lips to her forehead.
“We’re okay, right, Whitney?”
“Yes.” She leaned into his touch. “I’m so glad to be back here. I hated sleeping at my house.”
“You should probably sell that h
ouse.”
“Yep,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll put it on my to-do list.” She looked up at him as he stepped back. “Because this isn’t fake anymore.”
“You know what?” Jeremiah grinned at her. “I’m not sure it ever was, at least for me.”
Surprise danced across her face. “Really? You think you would’ve asked me to marry you only a few weeks after we started seeing each other again?”
He chuckled and took off his cowboy hat, hanging it on the hook on the side of the dresser. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have done that.”
“Would you have ever asked someone to marry you for real?”
Jeremiah thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and we belong together. We’re good together.”
Whitney received his kiss willingly, and Jeremiah ended up laying down in bed with her, whatever she’d put on her tablet playing while he made love to her, his wife, his best friend, the love of his life.
“One for you, Winst,” he said to the cattle dog as he hung a stocking with a paw print next to his. The mantel held a variety of stockings, for humans, horses, and now dogs alike. “And Wills, yours is right here.” He picked up the shiny teal stocking that looked like it had fish scales on it.
Willow barked at him as if she knew she’d get a rawhide to chew come Christmas morning, and Jeremiah chuckled. He nudged her stocking over a little bit so it was evenly spaced with the others, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Everyone would be here in a couple of hours to get the tree set up, as was their custom on the day after Thanksgiving. The past few weeks had been busy, but good. Whitney returned to her normal self—mostly—after a couple of days of rest and a lot of chocolate. She’d rescheduled a couple of shoots to be able to stay in bed, and she’d relied on Jeremiah just the way he’d wanted her to.
He loved her more and more as the days passed, especially when she said, “Oh, look at those cute stockings for the pups.” She bent over and scratched both of them. “You guys are so lucky, did you know that? So lucky to have your own stockings.”
Jeremiah shook his head at the way she spoke to them like they were humans, but he could admit he loved Winston and Willow with his whole heart.
Whitney’s official due date was July twelfth, and they’d talked about not finding out if they were having a boy or a girl until the baby was born. It had been his idea, and Whitney was still on the fence. Jeremiah liked the intrigue of it all, and he didn’t see why it mattered if the blankets they had in the nursery were blue, pink, or yellow. The baby wouldn’t even know.
The living room held a dozen boxes, most of them open and in some version of being unpacked. But for right now, the mantel was beautiful, and Jeremiah slung his arm around Whitney’s waist and held her close. “I love Christmas.”
“Me too,” she said, leaning into him. “I’ve been thinking….”
“Uh oh,” he said. “Is this thinking like how will we know what clothes to buy? Or thinking like you want to take your next bride out to the far cabin? Or something else?”
“Something else,” she said.
Jeremiah shook his head. “Honestly, Whit, I don’t know what else I can take. After you lost that kid on the ranch….”
“He wasn’t lost,” Whitney said. “Winston knew right where he was.”
The dog perked up at the sound of his name, cocking his head as if Whitney would give him a command that would end with him earning a chunk of hot dog.
“What have you been thinking about?”
“Just hear me out.”
Whenever she started a conversation like that, Jeremiah had to work not to roll his eyes. “I’ll listen to the very end,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking that I would like a small, private ceremony where we pledge to each other how we really feel.”
“Whit, you know how I really feel.”
“I know,” she said. “But I want something, I don’t know. More official. Our wedding was a bit staged, and I hate that’s all we got.”
“How private is private?”
“Me and you,” she said.
Jeremiah didn’t see the point. There were plenty of times with just the two of them where he told her and showed her how he really felt about her. “All right,” he said, because he didn’t have any reason not to. He had plenty of money for cakes and dresses and whatever else she needed to feel like she’d gotten the wedding she wanted.
“And in return, I’ll concede about not knowing the gender of our baby.”
Jeremiah jerked his attention back to her. “Really?”
She grinned at him, and she was honestly the sexiest, sweetest, most wonderful woman he’d ever known. “Really.”
“Deal,” he said instantly. “And that wasn’t even a hard one.”
She laughed as the back door opened and Liam said, “We’re here.”
Jeremiah turned to welcome his brother and his family to the homestead. They’d all work to decorate the ranch, and while Jeremiah had found it annoying in the past, now he certainly didn’t.
“I brought the stuff for the fences,” he said. “It’s on the front driveway.”
“Great,” Jeremiah said. “Whitney and I will do that. You and Tripp on the oak tree again?”
“Always,” Liam said, crossing through the kitchen and moving toward the front door. “He said he’s two minutes out.”
“Great.” Jeremiah walked around the couches and took Denise from Callie. “Heya, baby.”
The little girl smiled at him and reached for his cowboy hat. He chuckled and let her knock it sideways on his head. “Let’s go put up some garland, okay?” He reseated his hat as he followed Callie and Liam and Whitney to the front door.
Rhett and Evelyn had arrived, and his brother was hanging a wreath on the front door. “Tree inside?”
“Sure,” Jeremiah said. “Everything’s out. Recruit Wyatt to help you.”
“Help with what?” Wyatt asked, coming up behind Jeremiah.
“The tree inside,” Jeremiah said. “Popcorn strands for Oliver and Denise.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Wyatt said, stepping past Jeremiah. He’d turned a corner a couple of weeks ago, and he was so much better now, in a lot of ways. “I’ll babysit Conrad.” He took the six-month-old from Evelyn, who laughed as she passed him over.
“Deal,” she said. “He’s teething like mad, so don’t blame me if you’re covered in slobber in five minutes.”
“Let’s go get some crackers,” Wyatt said, practically cooing at the baby as he went down the hall.
Jeremiah laughed with the others as Rhett and Evelyn went inside. The house started playing holiday music, and Jeremiah had never been happier to have Bluetooth speakers installed on the inside and outside of the homestead.
He and Whitney loaded the boxes Liam had brought over into the back of her grandfather’s truck and rumbled down the drive to the fence. Tripp and his family arrived, and Jeremiah waved to him and called, “Liam’s waiting for you by the oak tree.”
Skyler and Micah had gone to town for pastries, and when they returned, Jeremiah would have them make coffee, sweet tea, and hot chocolate.
A couple of hours later, the homestead was decked out for the holidays, and everyone had gathered inside the homestead for cinnamon rolls and orange scones. Heidi Ackerman made the best spinach quiches in the entire state, and Jeremiah slid a tray of them into the oven to re-warm them.
He loved nothing more than this day-after-Thanksgiving tradition of getting together for a late breakfast, decorating the homestead, and putting on a movie.
“What are we watching today?” Wyatt asked. “Can I pick?”
“No way,” Micah said. “You always pick something no one likes.”
“Like what?”
“Like that weird documentary about dogs,” Rhett said. “Let Callie or Evvy pick.”
“I don’t want to watch a romantic comedy.
”
“Evvy likes things that are too sad.”
“Let’s put on a Christmas movie.”
Jeremiah loved listening to all the talk, all the bickering. He lifted his mug of hot chocolate to his mouth and watched as Wyatt continued to plead his case while Micah was not having it.
“They’re funny, aren’t they?” Whitney asked, joining him.
“Gotta love ‘em,” Jeremiah said, looking at her. “Should I make popcorn?”
“There’s always a case to be made for having popcorn.” She grinned at him, and Jeremiah dropped his gaze to those red lips he loved so much.
“I love you,” he whispered, dropping his mouth to taste those lips.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wyatt hadn’t spoken to Marcy since the day she’d ran from his hospital room. His body had healed as much as it was probably going to. His back only hurt when he overexerted himself. His heart hurt all the time.
He had no idea how to bridge the gap between them, and he’d resorted to listening to the rumor mill to keep up with the Payne family news. They were a low-drama family, and as far as he could tell, Marcy was still flying planes and her father was still alive.
On Christmas morning, he went with Micah and Skyler, along with Jeremiah and Whitney and Dalton, over to Tripp’s estate on the east side of town.
Oliver was really the only niece or nephew old enough to enjoy the magic of Christmas, and he’d agreed to wait for his aunt and uncles to come over before he opened his presents. The scent of maple syrup hung in the air when Wyatt walked in, and he grinned.
“What’s for breakfast?” Skyler asked, always the one to bring the spotlight to him. Wyatt had enjoyed plenty of spotlights, seen his name in lights, all of it, and he carried a hat box in his hand.
“Jeremiah!” Oliver yelled, running through the living room. “Wyatt! Skyler! Micah!” One of the best things about Oliver was how happy he was to see everyone. Wyatt grinned at him as Jeremiah scooped the eight-year-old into his arms. Skyler and Micah loved Oliver too, but they didn’t seem as interested in children as Jeremiah and Wyatt himself were.