Page 79 of Coming Up Roses

Myla Rose

I should be relaxing.

I should be over the moon giddy.

All my dreams just became reality, but with a handful of text messages, it feels like the walls are closing in on me.

When my phone flashed with a text from an unknown number, I figured it was a new client or a referral. But as soon as my eyes scanned those cruel words, I knew it was Taylor.

In my heart, I know I need to tell Cash about the texts. And in my heart, I know he’s who he says he is and that he’s in this for the long haul. I know we aren’t just playing house, but what if this proves to be too much? I know he says he wants my heart and that he can handle my baggage, but what if this breaks us?

It’s one thing to say he wants to raise this sweet baby with me, but it’s totally another to go toe-to-toe with Taylor and all of his family’s resources and connections.

Sinking lower into the water, I let the tears fall as I read his awful, hate-filled texts again.

Unknown: I may not want you, but there is no way that trash is going to have you.

Taylor: Mark my words, Myla Rose. Just because I don’t want you doesn’t mean I’m willing to share. I may not be yours, but you’re mine.

Taylor: That baby is mine. I own you. Both of you.

Taylor: Expect to hear from my attorney. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll give you every other weekend.

This feels impossible. Insurmountable. I need Cash. I love him. So very much. From the very second I heard his deep, rumbly voice and looked into those rain cloud eyes. He’s haunted my dreams and occupied my waking thoughts since day one, and deep in my soul, I know we can weather this storm together.

He’s my strength, my support, and I know he can only help me through things he’s aware of. I also know that means I need to buck up and tell him about Taylor’s texts. I just hate the thought of such a special night being tainted by such ugliness.

So, later. I’ll tell him later.

I soak until my skin shrivels and prunes, which takes me back to the beach with Preston and Lucas. Those boys are such a joy, and thinking of them brings me the smile I need to head out and face Cash.

Dressed for comfort in ribbed sleep shorts and a matching tank, I make my way into the kitchen where I find Cash effortlessly plating our dinner. “Mmm,” I moan. “Something sure smells good.”

“Perfect timing. Hope you like alfredo?”

“Does a cow have spots?” I pick up one of the plates and follow him out to the dining room table. Sitting down, I waste no time digging in. I’m emotional and hormonal . . . and just plain hungry. “Oh-mah-gah,” I say around a forkful of pasta, savoring the explosion of flavor. “This is so good. Like, so good.”

“Glad you like it, darlin’.”

We make it through dinner without any mention of the texts, which elates me. I’m thanking my lucky stars, thinking he’s gonna let it drop. What a joke, and damn if I shouldn’t’ve known better. Cash Michael Carson is nothing if not persistent.

After scrubbing the dishes and loading the dishwasher, Cash leads me to the bedroom. I fix my gaze on him, staring hungrily as he sheds his T-shirt, jeans, and socks before crawling into my bed and sliding under the sheets.

When he pats the spot next to him, I realize I’m still standing at the foot of the bed staring at him. “You coming, Myla?” I climb into the bed next to him, nestling my head on his warm, strong chest, and he wraps me in his arms, and it just feels so right.

Which is why my heart drops clear into my gut when he hits me with, “Myla Rose, you wanna tell me why that message on your phone got you all upset?”

My entire body tenses, and I know he feels it, but after a deep breath or two, I manage to relax . . . sort of. “Nothing to worry about, babe. Just a difficult client.” Oh, God, I hate lying to him.

“You sure, darlin’?” His tone tells me he’s suspicious. My belly feels like it’s full of lead.

“Yeah, Cash, I’m sure.” Sure that I’m going straight to hell.

“Okay,” Cash says on a resigned huff. “If you say so.” He threads his fingers through my hair, using my long strands as leverage to lift my face to his. His lips come down hard on mine, his kiss searing me. “Good night, darlin’.”

“G’night, babe.” I toss and turn restlessly. This baby boy already has me all kinds of uncomfortable, and adding another body to the bed is an adjustment. After a few more rounds of side-back-side-back, I find my sweet spot curled up on my right side against Cash’s warm body.

I’m finally drifting off, wrapped once again in the arms I’ve dreamed about so many nights, when I hear Cash mumble oh, so softly, “Love you, darlin’.” It’s so quiet, I almost wonder if I imagined it.

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