Page 31 of Promised to the Cowboy

Our girl.

Those two words have been rattling around inside my head ever since. I keep waiting for them to feel ordinary.

They don’t.

By mid-afternoon, Jacob’s truck is back from Denver, dust coating the sides from three hundred miles of interstate and back roads.

Everyone’s home.

Which means it’s time.

I push away from the porch rail and head for the house.

Evie’s beside me before we reach the steps. She doesn’t ask if I'm ready. She just slips her hand into mine.

I look down at our joined hands. Twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve worried about whether I had the right. Today, it just feels honest. Right.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

“No.”

Her mouth twitches. “Me neither.”

I squeeze her fingers once. “We can still wait.”

She shakes her head before I’ve finished the sentence. “I don’t want to.”

Neither do I. We’ve spent one day with this. One day when she’s just been our girl. One day when the only other person who knew was Maggie—and, somehow, Maggie had known before either of us opened our mouths.

I smile despite myself.

“What?”

“I was just thinking about Maggie. She took one look at you and switched your coffee.”

She smiles and nudges my shoulder with hers. “Then fed me enough eggs for three people.” Her smile fades into something softer. “I’m glad she knew.”

“So am I.”

Because it meant Evie didn’t have to carry it alone. Because Maggie looked at the woman carrying my daughter and immediately started looking after them both.

The back door stands open, and voices drift out into the afternoon. Ethan’s laughing about something. Daniel’s answering with a dry remark that makes Ethan laugh harder. Delaney's voice cuts through both of them, telling somebody to put their boots somewhere other than the middle of the mudroom.

The ranch hasn’t changed.

But I have.

Evie slows as we reach the doorway, and her fingers tighten around mine.

I stop with her. “Nervous?”

“About meeting your father for the first time and telling him I’m pregnant with your child?” She lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Yeah, just a little. Everyone else has been...” She searches for the word. “Kind. More than kind.”

“They like you.”

She grimaces. “That’s almost part of the problem.”

“How’s that?”