Page 35 of Wylder Ranch
SAYLOR: S.O.S
—always dramatic.
A wide grin pops across my face as I type a reply.
HAVEN: Good morning.
Immediately, my phone vibrates, and Saylor’s face pops onto my screen. My eyes dart to my daughter, who hasn’t stirred, and I’m inclined to keep it that way.
“Wait one second,” I whisper, holding my finger to my lips.
I carefully tiptoe into the bathroom and through to Everly’s room, bathed in the soft glow of nightlights plugged in on either side.
The drapes are open to the most perfect view. I saw it yesterday when I was unpacking, but this morning, as the sun peeks over the horizon, there’s a magical quality to it.
Bare trees, decorated with icicles. The silvery sheen of frost coating the backyard, and the church in the distance looming over the village like a protective mother.
Wisps of chilly air curl in the lightening sky, and from what I can tell, it’s going to be another clear, crisp day. My favorite.
I never thought I’d find anywhere that could rival my view in Aspen. My kitchen window faces the mountains and the long, winding path heading up to Talisker Peak, a flat stretch of mountainside where I used to hike with my dad. But where Aspen goes forever with its never-ending forests, Valentine Nook is cozy, with narrow, winding lanes and tiny stores.
There’s a beauty to it that makes me feel at home after only a couple of days.
“Haven?”
I almost forgot I was holding my phone. “Sorry, I’m here.”
There’s a blanket on the rocking chair where I left itafter giving Everly her nighttime feed. It’s so fricking soft, and when I wrap it around me, the faint scent of fall wafts through the air.
Except it’s not fall. It’s Alex.
“Thank God. You’re alive.”
Making sure she sees my hefty eye roll, I reply, “Of course I’m alive. And I spoke to you yesterday.”
“No, that was today, this morning. I haven’t heard from you all day. This time difference isn’t working for me.”
I grin at her dramatics. “How’s it going? How’s Aspen?”
“I don’t care about Aspen. I’ll send you the snow report. I want to hear all aboutyou.I still can’t believe you’re moving in with the English crumpet.”
I nod, because me either. “It makes sense. Alex can get to know Everly, and I’m not making people mad with all her crying. And we’re good. Everything is good.” I pause, wondering if there’s more to tell her, because from the way she’s looking at me, it seems she’s expecting it.
But there’s a difference between having more to tell andwantingto tell her everything.
I’ve never kept secrets from Saylor, but truthfully, I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to describe it, and I don’t know how I feel.
So many times in the past seventy-two hours, I’ve told myself how lucky we are because this could have gone drastically in the wrong direction.
I had no expectations when I came to England. My one job was to find Alex and explain. I wasn’t even entirely convinced that I’d be able to find him, or if I did, that he’d want to know me. Or remember me.
And now I’m staying in his house, and I’m sitting in the room he decorated for Everly, complete with a giantpanda she snuggled into last night, a bookshelf filled with more books than I’ll be able to read to her, and a bathtub with more products than I’ve ever owned.
That’s all before I explain that Everly’s now officially a member of an English aristocratic family with the longest name in history. (Seriously, her new name is too long.)
But what it really boils down to is excitement.
IknowSaylor’s will outstrip mine because she will only see the silver lining of it all. She’ll have us married off before the clock strikes 8 a.m.
