Page 15 of Wylder Ranch
Miles. I was right.
The memory of the four brothers pops into my head, and the first time I saw them together at my tree store in Aspen village: Lando, the serious one. Alex, the smoking-hot one. Hendricks, the quiet one. And Miles, the one you could get into serious trouble with.
He spent a lot of his visit at the Aspen Polo Club, and from what I heard on the local grapevine, he caused quite a stir with the female grooms.
Never in a million years would I have predicted I’d be sitting in Miles’s kitchen ten months later.
Managing a chuckle, I peer down at my daughter. Only when she’s finally calm and eating do I feel like I can relax a little, and as always, I relish in her. It’s still such a novelty to see her there, knowing that this is the one thing only I can give her. I might not have much, but I have this.
“She’s very sweet.” Clementine interrupts my thoughts. “How are you finding it?”
My eyes find hers, so similar to Everly’s I don’t know why I didn’t notice before back in the bar.
The sixty seconds of silence aren’t enough to heal my shot nerves, and the truthful answer to her question has me unsuccessfully fighting the urge to cry.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” stammers Clementine.
My response wars in my head between being loyal to my daughter and telling the truth. In the end, the truth wins.
“You didn’t. It’s hormones and tiredness.Andbecause I’m just so used to saying everything’s okay when I’m asked that question, I didn’t expect to tell you otherwise.”
“So it’s not okay?”
“No.” I shake my head once, and another tear falls. “It’s hard. So much harder than I thought it would be. She’s not an easy baby. She’s demanding and stubborn and cries all the time. Then I wonder if it’s me, and I’m a terrible mother. It’s been such a struggle doing it by myself. And I haven’t even really beenthatalone. My best friend Saylor has helped me with everything. It’s the night that’s the hardest, though, when it’s just the two of us. And my whole bodyaches. . . my nipples. . .”
I stop myself before I tell Clemmie way more than she needs to know, but I dare not look at her. I don’t want to see her face before she tells me that I’ve brought this all on myself. I didn’t have to have a baby at all, and I have no business being a mother when I’m barely looking after myself. Plenty of people get abortions. I could have been one of them.
I could be living the life she has—carefree, fun—and looking cute while she does it.
“I know what you’re thinking, but my parents died when I was a teenager. She’s all the family I’d have, so I never even considered it.”
The screech of the chair legs is followed by arms wrapping around me carefully enough not to crush Everly but with enough pressure to make me cry again.
“I’m not thinking anything. But why didn’t you call Alex? He’s been devastated not hearing from you.”
If Clemmie’s trying to make me feel better, she isn’t. It’s worse. I don’t want to hear how upset Alex was that I never replied to him. It was hard enough hearing his tone when he asked me himself. Because I spent the last year imagining him meeting someone new, someone of his own stature.
FuckingUS Weeklyand its fucking gossip pages.
But it’s like Clemmie’s turned on a tap and now I can’t stop spewing, no matter how stupid I sound.
“It was too intimidating.”
Clemmie’s grip loosens, and she sits back in her chair. “What was?”
Swiping a hand under my nose, I take a breath. “Alex. All of them. Your brothers.” My eyes drop down again, and I focus on Everly. “He was visiting my hometown onvacation. I’ve never even left the United States. We’re so different, and how was it going to work? I deleted his messages before I discovered I was pregnant, then it was too late.”
I don’t add that not long after the boys flew back to England, the next edition ofPeoplemagazine had come out, and there on page eleven were pictures of Lando and his canceled wedding. Saylor had read out the entire feature, which went into great detail about the Duke of Oxfordshire and his brothers, the Lords, and how the entire high society of England was in a tailspin.
I’m not even high society Aspen.
Dating Alex would have been a huge waste of my time, and his. He’d have quickly tired of the long distance and left me with nothing but a broken heart.
So no, I didn’t call him back.
“Well,” says Clemmie, picking up a cookie from the plate and crunching into it. “You’ve made it out of the United States now.”
Her dry tone and deadpan expression raise a smile, followed by a small giggle. “Yes. I did.”
