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“I understand why you want to wait. It just sucks.” She sighs.
“I promise it won’t be long. Then everyone will know and I’ll give you a real wedding with a proper ring.”
“All I need is you.”
“Maybe I need it,” I explain. “I want to see you in a white dress as you walk down that aisle, and I want to hear you say vows you’ve written just for me. Then I want to carry you over the threshold, strip you out of that dress and the lingerie you’ll wear underneath. I want to lay you out on a bed instead of taking you on the ground or up against a wall.”
“But I do so like the wall.” She jests.
Chuckling, I reply, “I do too, if I’m honest. But I want to take my time with you. Maybe we won’t even leave the bed for days. We’ll have a honeymoon. Wherever you want to go.”
“Then one day, I’m going to put a massive diamond on your finger, baby. We’re going to have a beautiful house where our kids can run and play. You’re going to be an amazing mom.” I promise.
“And you’ll be an amazing dad. I want to have a little boy that looks just like you.” She says wistfully.
“Mmm. And a little girl with your blonde curls.” I finished.
That’s the thing about Samantha. Not only did she allow me to dream. She made me feel like it could all become real. That may be what I love most about her.
I bet that was the day we conceived Dakota. It makes sense. The day we talk about kids is the day I got her pregnant.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Memories are bittersweet. Every minute I spent with Samantha was a miracle. Things were perfect.
We both should have known that was a bad omen. Nothing is ever perfect. At least not in my experience.
I know I damn sure wasn’t perfect. I have the proof sitting in my nightstand drawer on a little phone. Things went downhill before that day though.
I have to take the blame for that as well. I kept taking my pain and frustration out on Samantha. She loved me enough to put up with my bullshit.
And what did I do? I fucked around the first time I had the chance. It still makes no sense to me. How can I remember every minute of every day when it is Samantha in the memories, but I still can’t remember the day I betrayed my marriage?
I didn’t even realize I’d walked to the barndominium and changed clothes while I got lost in the past. I’ve been doing that a lot the past few days since Samantha came home. Why does she torment me?
She’s invaded my every waking thought. In my dreams, she has a starring role. I need to get the fuck over this melancholy and quick. A ride with my daughter may be just what the doctor ordered.
I didn't expect to love ranch life as much as I do. I figured I'd bide my time for a while and then move on. Especially once the last thing I thought I tied me to this place was gone.
I picked up the pieces Samantha left behind the best I could. I did what I needed to and helped take care of Wayne and the ranch. I watched out for Matt and kept Oli somewhat sane.
I paid my penance for all the things that I did to fuck up in the past. At least I thought I did. The heaviness in my chest calls me a liar.
I should have told the guys about the marriage. Should have told Wayne as well. He should have been the first to know. Then perhaps I would have known I was a father sooner. I may have stood a chance at having Samantha back here where we could have worked through our shit.
Now, it's not just working through what happened six years ago. It's working through everything that's happened since. It's coming to terms with the fact that we both betrayed the other in some way. Is it even possible? Is reconciliation in our future, or should I just not try?
Chapter Nine
Samantha
When Shane walks away with our daughter, it takes everything in me to stay put where I stand. I have to remind myself that he’d never put her in danger. He’s her father, and he missed so much.
I may not trust him, but I have to give him a chance with her. She deserves it even if he doesn’t. Dakota deserves the world.
I keep getting pulled into these conversations with people asking questions about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing since I left home. If I’m not dodging those questions, I’m ignoring snide comments about coming back to town with a child tagging along. I’m about to lose my short temper when I hear a familiar voice.
“Samantha.” The female voice says.
I turn around and come face to face with my best friend in the entire world. At least she was before I left home. “Brianna,” I responded enthusiastically.
