Page 77 of Whiskey Proposal

“She is.”

“You’re going to work on the tractor today with the guys?” His brothers and Devon will all be in the shop.

“Elsa too. You can join us.”

“Nah, as much as I like to take apart an engine, I’m going to pass.” I smile against his skin when he chuckles. “You going to check in with Brooks?”

Lane hired Brooks to cover for him while we’re away. Brooks only agreed to Hillary earning some money. He claimed he’d ask for the same someday. My brother should be done with the morning duties for both Fosters.

“Nah. He seems like a guy where no news is good news.”

“Most definitely. I heard my phone go off. I suspect it’s Hillary with more pictures of the animals. She got that orange barn cat to snuggle her.”

“Meringue is a closet cuddler. He doesn’t like to be obvious about it.”

I giggle and tuck myself into him. What would this be like? A future full of relaxing trips to see family. Waking up, chatting about our siblings and our plans, and then spending all day with those important to us. I’ve experienced it on such a small scale. None of my partners made it as far as having breakfast with my brother and niece.

He cradles my head. “What’s going on in that sharp mind of yours?”

Moments like this make me believe him when he says he knows me. If it wasn’t impossible, I just might buy into soul mates or something. He can’t know me based off a headshot, and he can’t have figured me out after a month and a half of marriage. “I’m just thinking about how nice having a big family must be.”

“It is. When you didn’t grow up with it, it can be hard to believe, and you always expect to eventually be on the outside looking in.” His chest rises and falls. “But it’s been fifteen years, and that hasn’t happened yet.”

I chew my bottom lip, a small well of fear rising up. “Do you think it will?”

“No.”

“Why not?’ I have to ask. He sounds so confident. Not arrogant or smug. Just matter of fact, but how can he know?

“Because I won’t let it.” His fingers draw lazy lines against my skin. “If nothing else, I will make that space for others.”

Heat prickles the back of my eyes. It’s like he’s holding a hand out, and my heart wants to stretch out and put itself in his big palm, but it knows . . . there’s an end to all this. “That makes you a very good person, Mr. Foster.”

I kiss his chest and push away. He lets me. I roll over and hang my legs off the side of the bed. A sadness hangs over me that I can’t shake. Too much talking about the end of our marriage and no argument from Lane.

Acid chews at my stomach walls. I knew this was coming. I know it is coming. So what am I going to do? Just wait for it? “What we’re talking about, it reminded me . . . Brooks closes soon, and then after that, the paperwork to sell him the house won’t take long.” Lane’s a steady presence behind me, but the intensity radiating off him is more. I can’t put a finger on what’s changed. He’s listening, but he’s feeling too. I glance over my shoulder. “We’ll need to get the divorce papers ready to go.”

His eyes narrow. “Talking about family made you think of divorce?”

Naturally. “I’m just being practical. I have a life, Lane. And it’s been hard to build it while I’m hundreds of miles away in an office that isn’t mine.”

“Right.” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, our backs facing each other. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder. His broad back is curved. He’s tense and staring at the floor.

I can’t read into that. It’s only asking for hurt. “It’s not going to be acrimonious on my end or anything. I really appreciate what you’ve done. Knowing that Brooks and Hillary have you and Cruz as neighbors? That’s a big comfort. Brooks said he’ll move the coop, and Hillary will incorporate the chickens into her flock.”

He makes a chuffing noise. “Sure.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip. I’ve fucked up this whole morning, but it has to be done. I can’t pretend that this is my future. The happy Foster unit with the surrogate mom who’s coming over later with breakfast rolls is theirs. I can’t delude myself into thinking any of this is mine too.

It’ll hurt too much when reality shows me it’s not. “Do you want the bathroom first?”

“It’s all yours if the kids are out of it.”

“Okay.” I breathe shallowly as I gather my clothes and toiletry bag. He’s upset, and I don’t want to make it worse by annoying him.

The whole conversation was for the best. Yet his taut shoulders tell a different story. Maybe it’s my timing. Maybe it’s the cost, or that it’s more for him to do.

Maybe he wants to stay married.