Page 21 of And Forever
Winona’s third birthday sneaks up on me in a whirlwind of long days and pleasure-filled nights. Wilder has practically moved into my cottage and spends half the week as the co-default parent, actively parenting Winona as his role has shifted to part-time with Cooper now on the ranch. The perfect domestic bubble we’ve created still doesn’t feel real, and there are mornings when I’m convinced I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream.
But the worry subsides as Wilder wraps his arms around my waist on the front porch. We finish waving off my parents' car as they take Winona into town for an ice cream and to the park, giving us time to set up for her party.
“I’ve always heard little girls dream of a pony for a present, but she kind of has two of those here.” Wilder presses a warm kiss to my temple before I spin to clasp my hands behind his neck. “Is it okay that I got her aBlueyplayset instead?”
“She’s going to love it,” I reassure him, lifting onto my toes just enough to have him meet me halfway in a kiss. It’s soft and sweet. But the moment Wilder’s tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, asking for entrance, and his hands wander down to grip my ass, I lose myself to the heat between us. It’s been like this since that first night: insatiable. All-consuming.
Wilder’s given me more orgasms than I can count; making love to me and fucking me in equal measure as if we’re making up for lost time. Slipping my hands into the thick strands of his hair, teasing them with slight tugs that make him groan. I swallow every single one before I pull back with a gasp from the intensity and the way his strong hands knead my backside. For a moment, we stare at each other, chests heaving with barely contained passion. I clear my throat and smile.
“I know,” he says before I can open my mouth. He gives me one more, chaste kiss and a swift swat to my backside. “Let’s go give our girl the best birthday she’s ever had!”
Two hours later, a perfect, magical fairy garden has transformed my mom’s yard. There are delicate ribbons woven through the bushes. Iridescent orbs are suspended by fishing lines from branches, floating magically on the gentle breeze. Toadstools surround tables draped to look like tree stumps, with tiny tea sets arranged on top. In the large patch of grass, an inflatable pool overflows with plastic pastel balls for jumping around in.
A side table has all Winona’s favorite foods diligently cut down and shaped to be bite-sized. There are carafes of sparkling lemonade with edible gold glitter swirled in, and a vibrant purple punch topped with melting vanilla ice cream. At the center, a buttercream cloud cake sparkles with her name and three candles.
An antique trunk overflows with gauzy fabric, willowy and shiny wings mixed in with star-topped wands and jewel-encrusted tiaras. I carefully extract an emerald-green set, sliding my arms through the elastic straps and admiring how the wings fan off my back. Their tips are an inky black, the excess fabric on the bottom hitting the same length as my mid-calf, flower-patterned dress. I give an experimental spin, marveling at their lightness and bounce. The giggle that threatens to break free dies in my throat when Wilder steps off the back deck.
With a confidence only he could possess, he strides across the grass toward me in fitted light-wash Wranglers, the brown button-down from the barn party, and a giant, elaborate set of wings fixed to his back. The muslin construction is shaded and splattered with deep earth tones, the tips singed and distressed, which gives them a masculine and dangerous energy. They complement the rugged, roughness of Wilder’s stubbled cheeks and disheveled hair that falls across his forehead.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim as he approaches. His smile—cocky and bright—spreads across his face as my eyes bounce over his form. “I never thought I was one for fairy porn, but I might be a convert.”
“Well, I do have a magic wand I’ll show you later if you want, baby.” His tone is playful and lascivious, ocean-blue eyes raking up and down my body. I want to groan at the horribly cheesy line, but when he wraps his hand around my waist and hauls me against him, I forget to grumble. “You’re beautiful. I’m really happy I’m here for this.”
I skate my hands up his arms before settling against his warm chest. I dip a finger between the buttons, and Wilder lets out a sigh that ruffles the hair at the edge of my face. Satisfaction beats under my fingertips with the beat of his heart. In his gentle hold I’m so glad he’s not missing any more birthdays. We don’t have everything figured out, but I know Wilder McCoy isn’t going to be anywhere but by my side from now on. As thoughhe can pick up on my thoughts, he lets his lips skim across my forehead and catches my eyes.
“I need to go home next week.” Like he’s afraid it’s happening, he tightens his grip on me for a breath. “Just for a few days. I’m committed to staying here through the summer, but it’s been months, and I need to check on a few things. I arranged it with your parents when I first signed on. But, now that it’s here, I was hoping you and Winona would come with me?”
“That would be nice.” I give him a quick kiss, trying to keep my excitement and curiosity from overwhelming me. When I pull back, Wilder’s shoulders drop just a bit, and it makes me smile. “Were you nervous I’d say no?”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d say,” he admits. “I could understand why you wouldn’t want to go back there.”
“The bad parts of that time aren’t tied to a place, Wild,” I tell him, sliding my hands down to hold him closer. It’s a little tricky with the wings on his back, but I manage to pull him as tight to me as I can. “If they were, you wouldn’t have kept it all these years. I want to see your home, and I want the three of us to have some time together as a family.”
“I want that, too.” The back of his fingers ghost over my bicep.
Our conversation is cut short by the sound of tires coming down the drive. Car doors open, and Winona’s excited voice is babbling happily about her adventures in the park. When she comes into view, carried by my dad, she abruptly stops talking. He sets her down and keeps his eyes on her reaction. Mom beams from off his shoulder, and I see Ada arriving further behind the trio.
“Mama! Wildy!” Winona finally shouts, her glee clear in the volume of her voice. Her whole face lights up; chubby cheeks pushed so high by her eager smile, it’s difficult to spot her blue eyes for a moment. Meehaw nearly flies out of her hand as she races toward Wilder and me, her arms flailing with unbridled joy. Her run is wobbly as she tries to swing her head to take ineverything we arranged for her. She starts to take a tumble, but Wilder is to her in two strides, sweeping her from a crash landing. Winona gasps and giggles, and I see Wilder subtly check her over, making sure she’s okay. But she’s fine and is preoccupied by her own inspection of her father. “Wildy, you’re a pretty fairy!”
“Not as pretty as you’ll be! Happy birthday, Winnie!”
14
WILDER
COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO — AUGUST
The sun hovers just above the horizon, sinking slowly, when I finally turn my truck onto the dirt road that weaves between the trees to my house. Winona’s asleep in her car seat, having been a champion passenger on the long drive to Idaho. She sang, talked about the things she saw out the window, snacked, and watched two movies on Charlotte’s iPad strapped to the back of my seat. We made sure to schedule a couple of rest stops to get out and let her run around and have a real meal, but overall, she did really well on the road trip.
Next to me, Charlotte’s head swivels between the windshield and the side window, trying to see as much as possible in the fading daylight. My stomach has been in knots, getting worse with every mile, only starting to lessen in the last few minutes. In all the time we’ve been apart, Charlotte has been on my mind every day. In big ways, like the near-constant ache of missing her physical presence, to the small ways, like wanting her input on the paint color in the bathroom. I still haven’t wrapped my mind around the reality that she’s here with me.
A small gasp escapes her as I turn the truck into the curved driveway in front of the house. The property is nothing like itwas when she was here last. My trailer is long gone; sold as soon as the house was built. The rest of the land has been cleared for the other buildings. I can’t bring myself to look, so I become hyper-focused on all the steps of parking and checking Winona is still asleep. I glance over my shoulder to see my daughter slumped onto one side of her car seat, bones more like rubber, and Meehaw tucked up against her neck. Her lips are parted, a soft snore rumbling on every exhale.
The passenger door snicks, and I know I need to face Charlotte’s reaction to the house I’ve spent the last three years building. After I hop out of my side, I guide the door to close but not click shut and round the engine. I shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans as I watch Charlotte.
She’s standing still in front of the two-story structure. The farmhouse frame blends classic and modern features, like a wraparound porch and a three-gabled roof. In the fading evening light, you can just see the large downstairs windows to the living room and the two brick chimneys bracketing the house. The soft sage of the house is accented by a deep mocha trim and shutters, making it blend in with the surrounding forest, but still stand out with inviting charm. Timer-controlled interior and exterior lights click on, bathing the property in warmth and drawing Charlotte’s eye to the large barn in a traditional deep red and then the riding ring.
“Wild.” She turns back to me, my name leaving her on a surprised exhale. “This is… I can’t believe it.” Her emerald eyes are wide and glassy, jaw slack in wonder. I want to go to her and wrap her in my arms, but my nerves about her reaction keep me rooted to my spot. “How did you—It’s everything we—” Her voice breaks, strangled by the emotion behind it. The tears fall, carving salty tracks over the curves of her cheeks, lost to the dirt below.
