“You’ve said so few wrong things and done so few wrong things in your life that the verdict is still out as to if you’re human . . . but you’re welcome. Nice to know my lack of drama is appreciated.” I let him pull me closer when his arms wound around my waist. “However, I’m not sure I can let what you just said out there go.”
Jesse’s head tipped. To him, it was already forgotten, but to me, I wasn’t so sure I could forget it.
“About me not being pregnant next time,” I said, jump-starting his memory. “I didn’t realize you’d made that decision for us. Or felt it was your duty to decide for us.”
His eyes closed for a moment as a sigh escaped his mouth. I’d heard him mention before that one pregnancy was enough for him, but I’d thought that was the stressed-to-the-max version of him grasping at whatever strings of perceived control he could. Just now though, he hadn’t been an anxiety-ridden wreck. He’d been as relaxed as I’d seen him in weeks.
“I’m sorry it came out that way. You’re right. It did sound like I’d made some executive decision I hadn’t gone over with you first.” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring across the barn as if he were hoping the right words would paint themselves across the walls. “I just figured, you know, after all we’ve been through with this one . . . it would be our last.” His eyes flitted to my stomach, lingering for a moment, before returning to the barn.
“If we have any more kids, it won’t go like this. You realize that, right? If we want to have another, I’ll get the surgery, and the next one will be a breeze. You won’t have to worry about me fainting from a walk in the park or passing out if I want to vacuum the carpet or my heart saying sayonara at the drop of a hat. The next one would be entirely different.” I was hot, tired, emotional, and that snapping/squeezing sensation was still making me its personal project, so I should have been the one hell-bent on never doing this again. Why was I the one making the argument for more babies? I hadn’t made it through this one yet.
Jesse’s hand slid around my back, pausing on the swell of my stomach. I’d swear from the look on his face as he switched between staring at my belly and my face, it was as if he was deciding which to save and which to let go of. Agony and guilt swam in my husband’s eyes, and I was used to the opposite. That was why I found myself worrying about him making it through this twice as much as I worried about me making it through.
“Right now, Rowen, I just can’t even consider doing this again. This one’s been hard enough, you know?” His voice was so quiet, he could have been talking to himself, but I heard every word. “Once we make it through this, we can talk about doing it again, but right now, this is all I can handle. I’m sorry if that makes me weak, but that’s how I feel. I can’t pretend I don’t.”
My frustration melted, leaving in its place something not quite so fiery hot, but something that brought a slow, rolling warmth. It felt a lot like comfort.
“That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you strong.” I stole the remaining space between us and dropped my hands around the back of his neck, lacing my fingers together. “If you were weak, you’d find a way to weed out some of the feelings you have for me and this baby. If you were weak, you’d be looking for any and every possible way to ease your pain instead of accepting it and focusing on lessening mine. If you were weak, you’d find some way to care less so if something did happen, it wouldn’t bowl you over, just make you stumble back a few steps.” If I could have crawled into his lap and kissed the worry out of him, I would have, but Jesse’s ran too deep for me to remove. The only thing that could free him wouldn’t come for another few months. “To be strong, you have to know your weaknesses, confront them, and ultimately accept them. A person isn’t strong because they lack weakness but because they don’t let it guide them.”
He swallowed like he was trying to clear a tennis ball lodged in his throat, then he pulled me closer and dropped his head carefully to the swell of my stomach. His forehead still creased, his eyes closed as I ran my fingers through his hair. Every few strokes, another crease would unfold until a minute later, Jesse had either found a sliver of peace or fallen asleep with my stomach as a pillow.
I let him stay like that, not wanting to disturb him in a rare moment of solitude, continuing to comb my fingers through his hair in the way I imagined I’d calm our child one day. I was so used to Jesse being a beacon of strength, it was a relief when I caught a glimpse of just how human he was.
It seemed like an entire night had passed when in fact probably only a few minutes had, but I was brought back to reality when the same black-hat-sporting cowboy leapt onto the same bull he’d just been tackled off of. From the shade and sparkle of his lips, he’d been tackled by someone else too.
“Get out your composition books and take notes, people,” Garth shouted into the crowd gathering around the pit now that Mr. Championship Buckle was going to give them a show. “Because you’re about to witness how a real cowboy doesn’t just ride a bull but stays on one.”
Jesse remained in his temporary hypnosis, but I smirked at Garth, whose normally bloated ego had reached new heights. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Josie kick off her boots and bound across the wide circle of mats toward the bull and Ego-rific. In one insanely graceful move I’d be lucky to manage on my least-pregnant day, Josie leapt onto the bull behind Garth. She cinched her arms tightly around him as she pressed her lap as far into his ass as it would go.