Page 72 of Wylder Ranch
“Isn’t that what movie night is for? We’ll sit in the back row.”
My laughter barrels up my throat. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“Plus, no one’s here now.” Her lips hover over mine, only to groan. “Damn.”
“Got the oranges.” Miles walks in, juggling them. “Plus, Holiday and Lando arrived. They brought the movie.”
“What movie are we watching?”
“A new Christmas one Holiday brought. It’s got that guy from the Avengers.”
I have no idea who he’s talking about, but Haven clearly does from the way her entire body stiffens.
“Oh my God, oh my God. I’ve been wanting to see this movie. It’s not out for another few weeks. Oh my God, Alex, thank you.”
She’s off her stool, jumping up and down, and squeezing my arm like I’ve planned the whole evening around how much she loves Christmas, which I didn’t. Obviously. But I can’t help but laugh because this excitement is exactly the level my dad would have appreciated. He would have liked Haven.
Hell, he would havelovedher.
And weirdly, as the evening progresses, I come around to the idea that while it’s not my choice for a first date, it’s the perfect first date for Haven.
The rest of my family finally arrives. We drink and eat and laugh. Max and Everly go to bed without fuss, and when it’s time for the movie to begin, Haven and I take one of the sofas and pull a blanket over us.
I hold her hand like we’re watching a slasher filmbecause while she doesn’t need the moral support, I do.
Yet the best part of the evening is when the movie finishes. Not because it’s over, but because we get to bundle our daughter into the car and go home together.
The three of us.
CHAPTER 17
Haven
We breeze through Thanksgiving, and suddenly it’s December, and we’ve been here a month.
Valentine Nook has become so familiar to me that it’s hard to believe I barely knew of its existence before we arrived. Claudia in The Beanery has my coffee order ready the moment she sees me coming past the store. Eddie waves at me like I’m a regular in his bar and have been for years.
Everyone knows me because they know Alex, and they’re sweet and kind because of it.
They ask about Everly. I’ve been given multiple hand-knit hats and mittens, as well as one Christmas sweater featuring a penguin. I grew up in a small town, so I’m fully aware it doesn’t always work like that, but it does here, because everyone loves Alex.
I feel as at home here as I do in Aspen, and that’s saying something. I miss it, and we’re still speaking to Saylor every day, but I don’t miss it like I thought I would.
But I thought I’d be here five days, and we’re into our second month.
It could well be down to Everly being half English that I feel this way, and why I’ve been making every effort to immerse myself in the English culture, but I know Alex has more to do with it.
The effort he puts in to make sure the two of us are happy and content has taken getting used to. Ceding control, when it’s what’s kept me going over the past few years and only intensified when Everly came along. No one tells you about the instincts you develop when you have a child. That, above all else, you are solely responsible for protecting this tiny creature and keeping it alive.
It’s what led me here to this funny little village. It’s what led me back to Alex.
And I know that if anything happens to me, or between us, Everly will be absolutely fine.
With that knowledge comes reassurance and the ability to relax. It took me a couple of days to figure it out, but the overwhelming anxiety I’ve been waking up with since I found out I was pregnant has gone. We’re right at the beginning of a new journey, and while I have no idea where it’ll lead, I want to find out.
Everly is happy, and just from the way she looks at Alex, I think my daughter has found the love of her life. And for him, every time we’re stopped in the village, or grabbing coffee in The Beanery or having lunch in the pub and someone approaches us, the pride he wears when he answers questions about Everly is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It hits me right in the chest every single time.
When Alex and I first met, there was no doubt he was hot. A super fucking hot, rich English vacationer, the epitome of the Aspen clientele. Then he wasfunnyand super fucking hot, and the more we talked, he becamesweetand super fucking hot.
