Page 29 of Mountain Man's Longing
I turn to see Aspen waving from a corner table, her dark hair catching the afternoon light. She’s become one of Brenna’s closest friends—another city girl who found her place in these mountains with a man twice her age. The jewelry she makes complements our pieces perfectly, and seeing the delicate silver earrings Brenna’s wearing tells me their friendship runs deeper than business.
“Go,” I murmur against Brenna’s ear. “I’ll handle the delivery.”
She squeezes my hand before crossing to Aspen’s table. I watch her settle into the chair across from her friend with effortless grace. The sight still amazes me sometimes. This woman, who stumbled through my meadow in designer boots nearly three years ago, now navigates Wildwood as if she was born here.
“How’s our girl?”
I turn to find Eric sliding onto the stool beside me, coffee cup in hand.
“Doing better, now that the worst of the morning sickness seems to have passed,” I say, my gaze drifting back towhere Brenna’s laughing at something Aspen said, one hand unconsciously resting on the gentle curve of her belly.
“How’s that crib coming along?” Eric ribs, amusement in his tone.
“It’s the first one I’ve ever made,” I say defensively, running a hand through my hair. “Want to make sure every joint is perfect.”
“It’s a crib, not a cathedral.”
“It’s for my daughter.”
The words still feel surreal sometimes.My daughter.After years of thinking I’d never have a family, never deserve one, Brenna walked into my life and changed everything. The baby wasn’t planned, but the moment she told me, something settled deep in my chest I didn’t even know was restless.
“Fair point,” Eric chuckles. “Though knowing you, that baby will have the most structurally sound and beautiful heirloom piece in Vermont.”
“As if you won’t spoil her silly.”
“Got that right, but this is my chance.”
To experience fatherhood, he means. To make up for the past. I get it and don’t blame him one bit. I couldn’t imagine not spending every day by Brenna’s side through her pregnancy, and I’m looking forward to our life together with our little family.
Across the cafe, I catch fragments of Brenna and Aspen’s conversation. Something about Aspen's husband, Landry’s work at the auto shop, Brenna's mother’s latest package of designer maternity clothes—the woman’s convinced Vermont doesn’t have proper shopping— and plans for a girls’ weekend in Burlington. Normal things. The kind of casual friendship conversations that prove Brenna isn’t just surviving here, she’s thriving.
“Hard to believe it’s been almost three years,” Eric says, following my gaze.
“Sometimes, it feels like yesterday.”
He takes a sip of coffee, studying my face. “You know, when I gave you my blessing that night, I wasn’t sure what would happen. Figured there was a fifty-fifty chance she’d break your heart and head back to the city.”
I can relate. But things turned out for the best. Thank god.
Movement catches my eye as Brenna rises from the table, Aspen waving her off with a warm smile. When my wife turns toward me, there’s something in her expression that makes my blood heat. Her teeth worry her bottom lip, and when our eyes meet across the cafe, the look she gives me is one I know well.
Very well.
“How about an early lunch at the brewery?” Eric suggests, pulling Brenna in for a hug after she makes her way to us.
“I’m not hungry,” she says, returning to my right side, the side she always stands on when we’re next to each other, and looping her arm around my waist.
I tuck her against me, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Another time then.” Eric claps me on the shoulder. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Brenna’s fingers find the beltloop of my jeans as Eric heads down the counter to catch up with some other folks, her touch casual to anyone watching but sending electricity straight through me.
“Not hungry?” I murmur, unsurprised she turned down the lunch invitation.
Sure enough, she looks up at me, her gorgeous green eyes dancing. “Not for food.”
