Page 46 of Love You Too

The roads are getting crowded as the day trippers arrive to drive the wine route, so I pedal a little faster down the stretch to Buttercup Hill before it gets crowded. I know that if Trix seespeople flocking to the restaurants on the property, her hosting instinct will kick in, and she won’t be able to tear herself away.

And she promised me an entire day off to do something fun.

When I ride up the driveway outside Trix’s house, she’s sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, sipping a cup of tea. The flag on the teabag spins in the breeze, and the sun hits her face. Trix rests a hand on her belly, as if willing it to swell into a bigger baby bump. It’s fucking adorable.

“You rode in this heat? Are you nuts?” The smile in her voice washes over me. Or that could be the sweat bath I’ve brought on by riding.

“Maybe a little.” I lean the bike against the side of the house and take the porch steps two at a time. “You ready for our date?”

“We’re going on a date? I thought you said we were running errands.” She has the nerve to look disappointed.

“I did. We are. Sort of. I knew that if it sounded efficient and useful, you’d have to agree,” I tell her.

“Sneaky.”

“Yup. I hit you in your little type-A happy place with the idea of errands, but I’m sorry to tell you, honey, we are going on a date.”

Pushing herself up from the rocking chair like she’s nine months along, she hams it up to remind me that she’s doing all the hard work. I’m not about to argue.

Reaching out to give Trix a hand, I rest a hand on her hip and reel her in, the other hand reaching up to cup her cheek. I cradle her face like she’s precious—because she is—her big, blue eyes gazing up at me. My thumb sweeps along the apple of her cheek, feeling the soft skin there. “Can you forgive me for the tiny deception?” I ask, leveling her with my biggest smile. She rests her cheek against my chest and nods.

“I suppose. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

But I will.

It’s getting harder to convince myself that I’ll be satisfied with something casual with her.I mean, who the fuck am I kidding?I don’t know whether I’m falling in love with this woman all over again, or if I never stopped loving her. But if I need to trick her to get her to relax for a few hours, I’ll do it again and again.

Once I’ve showered,we set off in my car. “Can I get a hint?” she asks, looking down at a tote bag she’s brought along. I know she probably has real errands to run, like a trip to the grocery store or pharmacy, but those are the last places I’d take her on a date.

I shake my head.

“Infuriating.” There isn’t even a hint of playful frustration in her voice. It’s pure fury.

Trix warned me that she doesn’t like surprises, but it’s not really true. Shehatessurprises. Judging from the grilling she’s given me over the past ten minutes, she can barely hold it together without knowing where we’re going, for how long, and why.

It just makes me wish we had a longer drive.

“This is good practice for you,” I tell her, knowing I’m infuriating her even more. I can’t help it. Seeing the color rise in her cheeks as she gets progressively more irate makes me want to wrap her in my arms and watch her calm down progressively as I drop tiny hints for hours. Then I’ll keep her forever.

Forever?

I do a little gut check at that thought because I can’t confuse my forever status as the father of her child with a forever relationship with Trix. But it’s like being in the middle of a hockey game—I need to make the best plays I can without a guarantee of how it will end.

“Good practice for what? Wanting to murder you and not doing it?”

I chuckle at the lack of humor in her voice. “When you’re a parent, you won’t know what’s going to happen from day to day. You might get dressed for work, and that’s when the baby decides to spit up all over your shirt. Or you need a good night’s sleep, and that’s when the baby cuts a tooth and keeps you up all night crying.”

She holds up two fingers. “Okay, two things. First, when did you get so knowledgeable about what babies do? And why do you keep saying ‘you’? I’m not the only one staying up all night with a teething kid.”

I pat her leg in a useless effort to calm her. The muscles under her long skirt are tense and tight as rocks. “Remind me to schedule you a massage when we get back.”

“I don’t have time for a massage! I barely have time for this date.”

“Oh, grasshopper, you have so much to learn,” I say, referencingThe Karate Kid, which we watched together in college. Glancing at her, I catch her smiling at the reference. “I will be there for at least half of the teeth since we’re sharing custody, and maybe more if I spend the night. And as for my knowledge, I’m a reader, remember? I bought some books.” She gnashes her teeth, but I feel the muscle in her leg relax a tiny bit as each answer to her questions seems to calm the savage beast that seeks order and progress all the time.

“You bought books?” The softness in her voice feels like a well-worn shirt.

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