“My dad knows you’re pregnant.”
“Okay.”
“He asked me if I have a breeding kink.”
My hands come up to cover my face and laughter shakes my body. “No, he didn’t.”
“He did.”
“Jesus.” I murmur, but it’s still a little thin. A little watery.
“Forget Jesus. Tell me about the carrot. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”
“The woman you’ve known for all of two months tells you she accidentally got pregnant and what keeps you up is wondering about the carrot in her purse?”

“I love you, Cade,” I murmur against his chest.
“I love you too, Red.”
Then he just holds me tighter, and I hope he never lets go.

I squeeze her hand and pull it to my lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles of the woman I chose—the life I chose.
“Jesus. Who even are you?” Rhett asks, looking a little shocked.
Now it’s Summer’s turn to slap the top of his head. “Stop picking on them. It’s sweet.”
“Why the fuck is everyone hitting me?”
I chuckle as Summer responds with, “Because you deserve it.”

I glance over my shoulder, seeking that flash of coppery hair. And she’s there, smiling, gripping the metal fence panel with one hand, the other slung over her stomach, looking at me like I hung the moon—and for her I would.

“I love you too, baby,” is what I get out, just before she pulls the black cowboy hat off my head and plunks it on her own.
Leaning back away from me, she gives me a playful little smirk.
I quirk a brow in her direction. “You know the rule, Red?”
“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” She winks at me, looking fucking adorable wearing my hat. I should have put it on her forever ago. I should have put it on her the first day I laid eyes on her in that coffee shop.

And I realize in that moment maybe I am heartless after all, because the beautiful girl with the copper hair grinning back at me right now is the one who stole it.

Cade: Do you think you should still be teaching this close to your due date?
Willa: To my knowledge, showing people how to play the guitar has not been known to stimulate labor.
Cade: Don’t be a smart-ass.
Willa: I’m pregnant. Not disabled.
Cade: Not funny.
Willa: Neither is your breeding kink. But here we are.

Whoever said pregnancy is beautiful can die a fiery death, as far as I’m concerned.
In recent days, I’ve gone from excited to wishing I could issue an eviction notice.

His arms wrap around my middle, or what’s left of it. I feel like I’m just boobs and belly at this point. “I love you too, Willa. Even though I think you peed your pants.”
My head shoots down to follow where he’s looking. “Alright. It’s time to call your dad.”

Cade: Why is my child’s birth part of a group text?
Summer: Because we’re excited!
Violet: So excited! Send pictures!
Rhett: After though. Not during. I don’t need to know Willa that well.

“I’m sorry if the magic is gone after this,” he replies with, “It’s okay, I’ve lived through a lot of calving seasons.”
My hysterical laughter bleeds into a contraction, longer and stronger than any of the others, and when it finally finishes and he’s helping me into bed, I say to him, “I know you didn’t just compare me to a cow.”
“I would never,” he says with a chuckle. And as much as I want to punch him in the face for that joke, I also want to hug him.