Page 11 of Wylder Ranch
It’s the smile I remember, and seeing it again makes my chest ache.
I glance down, totally forgetting it isn’t just her walking along next to me, and nothing about this entire bizarre scenario makes sense. I still have no idea what she’s doing here. I have no idea what I’m doing either.
What is the matter with me? Why didn’t I take thehint when she didn’t call me back the first time?
I stare at the point Haven’s hand is stroking along the baby’s back. “Everly is your daughter?”
I nearly choke on the words.
“Yes, she is.”
Wow. It’s literally the only thing that pops into my head. Wow. A baby. A fucking baby. My dream girlhas a baby.
My pride, already dented enough after being ghosted for ten months, is now smashed to smithereens after I hear her confirmation out loud. We have spent the last ten months at opposite ends of the spectrum.
“Congratulations, I guess,” I manage to say, and I’m weirdly proud of how I keep my expression as neutral as possible.
Inside, I’m writhing in jealousy. Thick, green, and ugly. It’s so quick and consuming that it almost winds me, and I slump down on the cool stone wall of the Valentine Nook fountain.
Thankfully, there aren’t any people throwing in coins to make a wish today. Out of habit, I dig into my pocket and pull out a couple of pounds and a fifty pence piece, toss them in, and screw my eyes shut.
Please wake me up from whatever this fucking weird dream is.
Opening one eye at a time, I find Haven still there and peering down curiously at me.
“Haven, why are you here?” I ask wearily, one more time.
Instead of Haven answering, the baby lets out a very loud, garbled screech, and opens its eyes directly in front of whereI’m sitting.
I don’t blink. I’m locked in a staring competition with the creature strapped to her chest, the one with Burlington blue eyes.
And then it hits me. Like a sledgehammer. The reason Haven is here, in England. In my village.
If I had my wits about me and the skill to do more than basic mental arithmetic and recall my biology lessons, I should have already figured out that the baby she’s carrying is mine.
Haven notices. The tension in my shoulders and the way my spine stiffens, pulling me to sit up straighter.
“I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t know I was pregnant until I was nearly five months. I thought I had the flu. It took me a couple of months to get over the shock and admit to myself,” she says quietly. “After that, it was all a whirlwind. I didn’t know what to do.”
I’m trying to listen, but blood is whooshing too loudly in my ears. I’m lightheaded. I need to sit down, except I already am. So instead, I lie back on the wall.
“I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I scratch through my beard and suppress a shiver.
In Miles’s haste to get me into the car and around to the pub, I forgot to pick up my jacket. I’m only wearing a cable-knit sweater and jeans, which, having been outside for ten minutes, is starting to weaken against the crisp November air. The cold spray from the fountain isn’t helping either.
The baby—Everly—lets out another sharp cry, bringing me back to reality, and I sit up again.
“I need to hear you say it.”
Haven sighs and jostles the baby against her chest, but it doesn’t help. “The week we spent together, I gotpregnant. Everly is your daughter, Alex. You’re a father.”
I close my eyes, taking in her words. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. It’s hard to think clearly when a baby is screaming next to you, and all that pops into my head is the last time Haven and I had sex.
We were at it all night, on every available surface. I’ve relived it more times than I care to admit. Lonely nights in the shower before bed, or the morning after a particularly vivid dream.
“How old is she?”She. Christ, I have a daughter.
