Page 137 of Promised to the Cowboy

I put my hand over our daughter, and she kicks once beneath my palm, strong and impatient. Already part of everything.

I look around the crowded kitchen. My father is carrying chairs. Delaney and Kitty are arguing over table placement. Maggie is whipping buttercream with enough force to qualify as an upper-body workout.

And then there’s the woman beside me who proposed to me in hospital scrubs while I was wired to six machines.

The future is still uncertain. My heart is still imperfect. Alexander is still alive.

There will always be another fence to mend. Another storm. Another reason to be afraid.

But she’s here, and so am I, and whatever comes next, neither of us will face it alone.

Evie threads her fingers through mine. “Bed, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We start toward the stairs.

Behind us, Maggie calls, “Separate naps.”

Evie looks over her shoulder and smirks. “No promises.”

I laugh all the way upstairs.

And this time, when my chest aches, it’s only because my life is too full to hold it all quietly.

Chapter 30

Evie

Three Days Later

A goat is at my wedding.

I know this before I see it because Maggie says, very clearly from downstairs, “Tom Sutton, get that creature off my porch.”

Tom protests. A goat bleats. Something metal crashes.

I close my eyes. “No.”

Mom pauses with a pearl-tipped pin between her lips. “No, what?”

“No goat.”

She removes the pin from her mouth. “I didn’t bring a goat.”

Another bleat carries up from below, and I turn toward the window.

My mother catches my shoulders before I can move. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m only looking.”

“You’re seven months pregnant, half dressed, and getting married in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty-two,” Delaney corrects from near the wardrobe. “Allowing three minutes for the walk from the house to the barn.”

Mom glances at her. “Does that include goat-related delays?”

Delaney looks down at the notebook in her hand. “No.”