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I’d just received another rejection on my manuscript. I’d expected to snag a publishing contract right away because who wouldn’t want my novel? But no one had.
I found I could handle the rejections easier this time around. Boone encouraged me in that regard. He was way better than any book boyfriend I’d ever read. He wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was I.
We had our fair share of squabbles, but we had a good time making up after them, too.
Still, the books all over the shelves I’d had him build in our cottage were evidence that a girl still loved to read about a swoony hero once in a while.
But the books weren’t the reason I wouldn’t be working. I hadn’t yet spilled the beans on our good news yet—and I couldn’t wait to see what his reaction would be once he found out.
“Ready to head back?” Boone asked, holding the chainsaw at his side.
“You bet.” I stepped out, helping him secure the tree to the back of the sleigh.
Once the tree was situated, we climbed back in, and my heart began to pound. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. I’d known for about two days now.
I’d taken multiple tests just to make sure I got the same response every time. Sure enough, each one showed two lines.
I was pregnant, and I couldn’t figure out the best way to tell him.
This was a big deal, especially since he and his wife had lost their baby before.
A romantic ride through the snowy woods was the perfect setting for sharing secrets, but I waited until we got back. Until we got the tree set up. I was aiming for romance here.
For a short time, the sleigh’s runners slicking over the snow was the only sound between us. Eventually, the cottage and its quaint stone exterior came into view.
Boone had wanted to marry at the cottage, but the inn was more accessible for guests. This adorable little place just didn’t have the space. My parents had flown up for the ceremony. I’d worn a lovely, slim gown with simple fabric and lacy sleeves. And the bed I’d once shivered alone in now kept Boone and me perfectly warm.
My cheeks heated just thinking about it.
I braced open the cottage door and then ran out to help him with the tree. He stood at its lower end, already lifting it by the trunk. I attempted to grip it around a few different places at its top, but everywhere I tried, branches only poked me in the face.
“Where am I supposed to hold it?”
Boone laughed and lowered its end. “Here, switch me places.”
I did so. The trunk end was much easier to grip. Boone carried most of the weight, I could tell, but I did my best to keep up and help get the little tree into our home.
Soon enough, it was positioned in the stand we’d prepped beforehand, in place of where the dining table usually sat by the window. I poured water into the base, breathing deep. The natural pint scent seeped into my senses.
“Mmm, that is so delicious,” I said, standing.
Boone was ready with a strand of lights, and together, we trimmed the tree. I’d replaced the old curtains on the windows with rustic, modern prints. In fact, I’d insisted we take down anything that wasn’t directly Boone’s, which was a lot.
And we filled the walls with our own memories.
Not that I had anything against family or heritage, but this was our home. I didn’t want to spend my time here looking at things that had no emotional connection to either of us.
The bookshelf Boone had built for me stood in the empty space near the door leading to our bedroom and bathroom. We both filled it with even more books, and someday, I hoped it would hold some that were written by me, too.
Junie had joked about having us take the radio to our house, but we’d both declined.
“We’ve had enough help from that thing, thank you very much,” Boone had said.
“Hang on,” I said, retrieving the box of ornaments from its place near the couch.
The fire crackled at me in the hearth, filling the room with warmth and the slightest traces of ash. I’d set the sleigh ornament on the mantle and snatched it, hurrying back across the front room.
“Where are you hanging that?” Boone said.
