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“I guess.”
“But damn, I love those gifts. And I love the things you do for me. The breakfasts, the car vacuuming, the random topping off of gas. It’s so nice, and I’m so tired of pretending I don’t like them,” she says, hervoice cracking at the end. “I’m tired of thinking I can do everything on my own. I can’t pretend anymore, Wyatt.”
“Then don’t,” I beg, wanting nothing more than for her to accept whatever is happening between us.
“Watching your family these past several months…it’s intense. You guys just give unconditional love by default. You forgive each other so easily. You defend each other without question. It’s unreal. You are so fucking lucky, Wyatt.”
“I know,” I state, a heaviness pressing down on my chest.
“No wonder you felt brave enough to be a single dad. You have a literal army out there who will drop whatever they’re doing to support you and this baby.”
“I know.” I feel sad watching her work through this. I’m upset that no one in her life has helped her feel brave.
She gasps, and her hands squeeze tightly to her stomach. “Wyatt, come here.”
“Shit, are you okay? Did something happen? Are you cramping?” I rush over, my heart in my chest at the fear rushing through me that something could be wrong with Trista or the baby. Our baby. Fuck, this shower was too much for her after she fainted last week. She’s too fragile for all this. She’s the most breakable, strong person I know.
She grabs my hand and spreads it out on her stomach, so I hold myself there, waiting for her to tell me what’s going on.
“Just wait,” she says with a sniff.
“Is the baby—” My voice is cut off when I feel a little bump against my palm. “Holy shit, is that—?”
Another bump, followed by a series of swoops.
“Holy fuck.”
“I know, right?” Trista replies with a garbled laugh. “I’ve been feeling them for a few days now but didn’t want to tell you until I could show you.”
The baby moves again, and I drop to my knees in the barn and splay my other hand out on her belly too, not wanting to miss a single kick. Honestly, it will be hard to get me off her now that she’s opened this door because this feeling is incredible.
That’s our baby in there.
“This is amazing,” I state, and without thinking, I press my lips to Trista’s belly, kissing her as much as the baby. “Hey, little Pop-Tart. I’m your dad, and I’m so excited to meet you. And I’m so proud of the woman who helped me make you. You’ll be a force of nature, kid.”
Trista’s belly shakes under my hands, and I look up to see that she’s full-on crying. Fuck, the Fletcher family is the king of taking things too far, me included. I stand and cup her face in my hands, swiping her tears away with my thumbs. “Lucky, I’m sorry. I got carried away. There’s no need to cry.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to amend our contract. I want contact with the baby. I want to see her. I want to see you being a dad to her. I don’t know if I can fully give her up anymore.”
“Her?”
Her eyes widen in horror. “Shit. It’s a girl. I’m sorry. The tech asked me if I wanted to know privately. Fuck, I screwed up the reveal. Everly will be so mad at me.”
“We’re having a girl?”
“Wyatt, yes, but are you listening to me? I’m telling you I want to change the contract. I’ve been thinking about it this past week. Honestly, I’ve probably been thinking about it since I delivered a lamb with Avery a few weeks back. I watched this ewe lick the afterbirth off the baby, and it’s totally disgusting, but I had this weird intrusive thought where I was like…would I lick this baby inside me clean if I had to? If that was societally normal, you know? And my answer was yes! I might even do those placenta pills I’ve read about, and I didn’t know that I’d ever feel that way. I really didn’t. I thought I was like my parents, but I’m not. You know how you only love Millie and you hate Reginald?”
“I don’t hate Reginald.”
“You kind of do.” She shrugs dismissively. “But you love your own pet, and I think that’s me with babies—which I guess means I’m not a sociopath after all—because I love this baby. Our baby. Can I evensay that? Do I even have a right to? Probably not. I know the deal I signed, and this baby is yours. But we just need to call our lawyer to discuss terms—”
I pinch her lips together to stop her from talking. “I don’t want to amend the contract, Trista.”
“You don’t?” she murmurs through my fingers, her eyes wide with fear. When I release her, she inhales a shaky breath and nods, her face hardening. “I understand I probably ruined my chance with you. But I want you to remember that you told me once that you’re a ‘five minutes from now’ person, always stressing about the future. And remember, I’m a ‘five minutes late’ person because I’ve been constantly stuck in the past. But what if, together, we’re right on time? What if we help each other be in the present every day? Doesn’t that sound good, Wyatt?”
