“Fine. So what's new? It sounds like you're driving. Going to see the cowboy?”
“Him, yes, and also Loveland.”
“That's the second time this week. The ranch doesn’t need that much love, but I’m betting Fitz does.” I sometimes regret how much I tell my sisters. I can’t do anything without someone asking about it.
“Funny.”
“I dunno, seems like maybe he's going to be more than just your baby daddy.”
“Don’t think so. He just called me in a panic, saying he can't do this.” I detail everything he said and hope that Callie can unhear some of the dread I imagined in his voice.
“What do you think he meant? Can’t do what?”
“I’m about to find out. It’s why I called you to distract me.”
“Do you really want to be distracted, or do you want to talk?” The computer tapping stops.
I smile even though she can’t see me. “Ha. Yeah. I guess you know me too well. I’m concerned. He hasn’t sounded this out of sorts before, and we’re only a half dozen weeks away. What do I do if he can’t handle it? Do I let him walk away without a fight?”
“Well, what do you want? Do you want to fight for him? Do you want him to be a part of your baby's life and yours?”
“I really do,” I say without hesitation. I don't want to let him go. At least not without trying to convince him that we’d make a good little family, even one that lives far apart.
“Then tell him that. Maybe this is just a blip. Everyone freaks out sometimes, even you,” she reminds me.
“True.” We talk for a few minutes more, and as expected, she knows exactly how to talk me down. Before long, I'm passing by Loveland Ranch on the way to Fitz's house. I find him sitting on the porch, swirling his iced tea in a glass, looking just as hot and handsome in the afternoon sun as always.
He saunters over and opens my car door, helping me out with a strong hand. “Good to see you, Duchess.”
“Not gonna lie, I used to find your chivalry charming, but with this baby beach ball hitting the steering wheel, I appreciate the assist.” I feel the familiar warmth when Fitz places his hand on my stomach.
His eyebrows arch as he holds his hand there expectantly. “No kicking?”
“I got plenty on the drive. Maybe now it’s nap time.”
He walks me to a chair on the porch. “Aw, sorry you got pummeled. Here. Have a seat.” He hands me a frosty glass of lemonade and paces in front of me instead of inviting me inside.
I take him in, noticing the untamed way he stomps around the porch like a horse in a small trailer. Shoving a hand in his hair, he shakes his head. The anguish is palpable.
My heart starts its erratic pounding again, waiting for the conversation I don’t want to have. I've been through enough breakups to know when someone is teeing up bad news.
“Just out with it, Fitz. What's bothering you?”
“You just got here after a long drive. Relax for a minute.”
I sit in silence while he continues to pace back and forth. He doesn't seem to want to talk, and I don't know what to say.
After I've drained the last of my lemonade, I put the glass down and look at him. “What's going on, Fitz? Do you have cold feet? If so, just tell me. Let’s talk about it.”
“No, Duchess, it's not that. Come on inside. I want you to see what has me all worked up.”
He opens the front door, interlaces his fingers with mine, and leads me through the house and out the back. It takes me back to that one night when we stood on his back porch, looking over his beautiful ranch land, and I thought he was going to kiss me. The night he told me that pregnancy made me even more beautiful.
My heart pangs at the memory, that first inkling of wanting something that I couldn't have. Today feels like yet another one of those. Maybe the last one.
He steers us down a hallway to a room at the end. “Baby’s room,” he grunts, pushing the door open.
I don’t know what I'm expecting. Boxes from the baby store? An overwhelming number of supplies made him panic?