Page 69 of The Cowboy and the Baby

No matter how hard I bounced, patted, paced, or soothed Lily, she wasn’t having it.

Every second that she wasn’t crying, she was on the verge. Her quivering lips, tear-filled eyes, continued to break my heart. I lifted her to my shoulder, patted her back, and whispered, “We’re good, baby girl. We’re good.”

We were not good.

We were a mess.

Waiting for Thomas and Sarah Miller to arrive absolutely sucked, and I found myself hoping, more than once, that their plane would be redirected or cancelled due to weather. Both Lily and I trod the edge of tolerance, and I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong this morning. Her routine stayed exactly the same, the way all the articles and books I read discussed.

Was it possible that she queued off of me? Did my nervousness transmit to her? I thought Marsha mentioned something like that once: a one-off comment about familial, inherited anxiety. But the idea that my nerves could affect Lily so directly was too much for me to bear at this moment, so I ignored it.

“Fine,” I whispered again. “We’re just fine.”

A snow-washed world awaited outside, dimmed by restless clouds and the constant threat of falling snowflakes. The cold sunshine we soaked up the last several days had vanished behind the cloud cover, and I longed for its return. The twirling flakes, fluttering indeterminably, mirrored my restless emotions.

Sarah texted a vague, We should land around 10:30 and be there after lunch, this morning. After lunch could mean anything. When was their estimation of lunch? 11:00? 1:30? I hated the lack of concrete certainty more than checking the empty driveway every other minute.

Lily settled her head against my neck, and the brush of her hair against my skin soothed me. I tilted my head a little, whispering, “We’re fine,” and this time managed to mean it.

We were fine.

We had somewhere to land, no rent looming over my head for the time being, a little money in savings for diapers and necessities. I had time to find a job. We had friends close by. This situation could be so much worse. Besides, neither myself nor Cade would let anything happen to Lily.

The jarring thought shook me from my irritation with Sarah and Thomas, particularly because the depth of my emotions were so much greater than they should be. Thoughts of Cade brought up heart-fluttering memories of our kiss last night, and the realization that I hadn’t seen him all morning. Chores, probably.

Before Lily, I might have plunged headfirst into anxiety over our newfound relationship. As it stood, I still needed to get her to burp, change her, start a load of laundry, and do another sweep of the kitchen. Cody and Wyatt weren’t coming in for breakfast this morning—we all slept in after the late evening—and my to-do list mounted while I tried to soothe Lily.

I didn’t remember when I went to bed, only had vague memories of stirring awake when Cade effortlessly lifted me in his arms and carried me to the room, where I curled up and fell fast asleep again.

The memories warmed me.

Then scared me.

I shoved it all aside to focus on getting Lily ready, but caught a glimpse of closed eyes, her steady breaths in the mirror, and all my plans fizzled. She’d fallen asleep. Maybe being with Dagny had overstimulated her, and her sleep hadn’t been sufficient.

Well, so much for my plans for a pristine kitchen. Lily looked so innocent, perched on my shoulder and limp with trust.

Trust me, Cade said last night.

Quietly, I sank into the rocking chair and let it carry Lily and I forward and back. It grounded my wild thoughts, the rampaging fears. Everything settled as she slipped into a deeper rest. My eyes closed, and I remembered last night without the panic, forcing my mind to focus on Cade.

His hand on my waist.

Protective growl.

Devouring kiss.

Yes, he would make sure nothing bad would happen to Lily. Her grandparents wouldn’t hurt her—I’d met them at the hospital and a few times after. They genuinely loved her, and their son. But their zealousness to compensate for their son’s wild ways made them hyper-focused on redemption through Lily. They wanted to do better with her, and had said so themselves.

Lily wasn’t redemption.

She was Lily.

I feared they’d run away with her. If I gave them a moment alone—which was their due—I didn’t want them sneaking out the door. My heart hammered just thinking about it, never mind the utter lack of logic behind such an anxiety. They wouldn’t go far before Cade would chase them down, and then all hope of having her would be gone.

There again.

Cade.