Page 28 of Consumed By The Forbidden Mountain Man

"Yeah."

"I have something to tell you."

My hand tightens on my mug. She's staring at the treeline with an expression I can't read.

"Okay."

"I was gonna wait until tonight. Make dinner, light candles, the whole thing. But I can't hold it. I've been sitting on this since yesterday and I'm terrible at secrets."

"I know. You told Holly about the pie recipe before you even entered the competition."

"This is bigger than pie." She sets her coffee down. Turns in the chair to face me. Big brown eyes, dimple showing because she's trying not to smile, and failing. "I'm pregnant."

The mug in my hand goes very still.

"Seven weeks. Doc Morrison confirmed it yesterday while you were at the Henderson site." She pulls a folded piece of paper from the pocket of my henley. An ultrasound printout. Small, grainy, black and white. A tiny blip in the center of the image.

"Ivy."

"I know. I know it's fast. We've been together eight months. We don't even have a nursery. The office just got finished. Tony's going to lose his mind. My mother's going to cry for an hour. And I don't have maternity coverage yet because I'm self-employed, so we need to figure that out, and I've been spiraling about the spiraling, which is very on-brand for me."

She's talking fast. Hands moving. Eyes bright, scared, excited.

My throat closes. Not with fear. Not with panic. With something so far from either of those things that I don't have a word for it.

I set the coffee down. Take the ultrasound from her hands. Look at it. The tiny blip that doesn't look like anything yet. Seven weeks. The size of a blueberry, according to the app she's probably already downloaded.

"Reid? You're doing the silent thing. The silent thing is stressful."

I fold the ultrasound carefully. Put it in my shirt pocket. Stand up.

She watches me. Eyes wide.

I walk inside. Down the hallway. Into the bedroom. Open the nightstand drawer. Take out the velvet box I've been keeping under a pair of wool socks for three weeks.

Walk back to the porch.

Ivy is standing now. Both hands over her mouth.

"Reid."

I open the box. Simple diamond. Thin gold band. Holly helped me pick it out. Patty Cole called ahead to the jewelry store because of course she did. The ring has been in that drawer since I drove to town on a Tuesday afternoon while Ivy was at a client meeting.

I go down on one knee on the porch I built with my own hands, the one with the step I replaced the day she arrived.

"I was gonna do this tonight." My voice is rough. "Had the whole thing planned. Dinner on the porch. Steaks. That wine you brought the first night because you never listen when I tell you no."

"Reid." She's crying. Both hands still over her mouth. Tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You walked into my life with a cracked windshield, a bumper sticker about Mercury, and two suitcases that held everything you owned. You brought me coffee every morning before I asked. You brought me wine when I said no. You told me my reasons were bullshit and you were right." My hand is steady on the box. My voice isn't. "I spent three years sleeping in the guest room of a house I built for someone who left. You made me want to build again. For real. For keeps."

"Yes."

"I haven't asked yet."

"Then ask faster."

"Marry me, Ivy."