Sweet Home Montana Page 24

  “Well, I love it!” she exclaims, positively beaming at her husband.

  “It’s a lot of money, V,” Joey says under his breath with a nervous smile, but I’m not worried. I can already tell she wears the proverbial pants in the marriage when it comes to these kinds of decisions, and her mind was made up the moment she stepped foot over the threshold.

  “Yes, but for our forever home, this is perfect.”

  I smile. “Shall we head upstairs to see the bedrooms?”

  We proceed up the stairs, and I take Joey and Victoria through the master suite, which earns a chorus of praise from both of them. But it’s when we come to a smaller room, next door to the master, with a beautiful view of the park across the street, Victoria begins discussing her design plans, imagining the bedroom as a nursery, showing where she’ll put the cot, and the dresser, explaining what color she’ll paint the walls, and what curtains she’ll hang up. And that’s when I find myself violently blindsided.

  “Do you have any children, Quinn?”

  I snap myself from my daze, looking to see both Victoria and Joey watching me.

  “Oh.” I offer a small laugh. “No. No children.”

  In the flash of an instant, so quick I almost miss it, she frowns, a pitiful look in her eyes before recovering almost immediately. “A husband? Partner?”

  I press my lips together in a tight-lipped smile. “Nope. I’m single.” And almost thirty.

  She looks me up and down before casting a glance at Joey, a devious smile curling her lips. “Joey, babe? Don’t you think she’d be perfect for Miles?”

  My eyes widen. Oh my God. Please tell me this is not actually happening right now in the middle of a goddamn showing. I bite my tongue so hard, I’m almost certain I can taste blood in my mouth.

  Victoria glances at me, offering an apologetic laugh. “I’m sorry. Miles is Joey’s business partner. He’s perpetually single. But I think he just needs to meet the right lady. And you’re perfect!”

  “V! Stop!” Joey chastises with a light chuckle. “I’m sorry, Quinn. You’ll have to forgive my wife. I think she’s going baby-crazy. Is it weird if I tell you you’re not the first woman she’s accosted this with?”

  I feel heat prick at the back of my neck, my stomach pulling tight. And I’m worried I might bring up one of last night’s drinks.

  “It’s f-fine …” I manage, smiling curtly. “Why don’t I leave you both to look around some more, and I’ll wait for you downstairs?”

  I don’t wait for them to agree or decline. I turn on my heel so fast, taking the stairs quickly before I do or say something to jeopardize Oliver’s commission and my reputation. As I burst through the French doors, the bitter cold air slaps me in the face the moment I step out onto the patio. But I need it. It helps to calm my burning skin, my racing heart. Helps to stifle the sick feeling bubbling deep in my belly.

  I wrap my arms around myself, my coat inside by the front door, and I walk over to the furthermost side of the courtyard, staring up at the leafless trees, their jagged branches entwining overhead, high up into the miserably gray sky. And as I stand there, reeling with every overwhelming emotion wreaking havoc on my mind, I’ve actually never felt so alone.

  And suddenly, I’m crying, and the tears won’t stop.

  ***

  Somehow, by way of a miracle, Victoria and Joey put an offer in on the duplex.

  I’m assuming they felt sorry for me when they found me—a grown-ass woman, a real-estate broker—crying at their private showing.

  “I told you, you can’t go around asking random women if they’ll date my best friend, Victoria!” Joey had hissed angrily at his wife.

  “I’m so sorry!” Victoria cried, pulling me into an awkward embrace.

  Thankfully, they made an offer. I texted it to Oliver straight away who called his client, and by the time I arrived back at the office, the all-cash, zero-contingency deal was already signed.

  Oliver didn’t come back to the office from Brooklyn Heights. So, I stayed late and finished all the paperwork for him so all he’d have to do when he came in in the morning is sign on the dotted line and have them couriered to the lawyers. I asked if he wanted to meet up for a celebratory dinner, but he apologized, telling me he had something else on. And I can’t help but feel a little deflated, and even more alone, if that’s possible.

  So, as I sit in the dimly lit back seat of a cab driving at a snail’s pace down Broadway, dreading going home to my empty apartment, I scroll through my cell, trying to decide between Indian and Chinese. Or maybe pizza. Hell, maybe all three. My mouth is actually salivating at the thought of food, so I shoot off a text to Oliver, asking if we’re going to go back to spin class in the morning.

  Oliver: Maybe …

  What do you mean, maybe? I reply. And then it dawns on me, and my fingers can’t tap out a follow-up text fast enough. Is this why you ditched me for dinner? Are you on a date?

  I smirk to myself as the dots appear in our text window, indicating his reply. But then, no reply comes. Nothing. The dots disappear. Radio silence. And for some reason, I can’t help but wonder if he’s mad at me. He found out about my crying at the showing. Maybe he’s pissed at me for allowing my emotion to get the better of my professionalism. But I got the deal, didn’t I?

  With a huff, I sag back against the uncomfortable vinyl seat, folding my arms over my chest. I watch as the city lights fly by in a blur through the window, and I sigh heavily in resignation. I can’t be angry with Oliver. He has a life of his own. I refuse to resent him for living it, and it sure as hell isn’t his fault I’m sad and single and desperate for reassurance. I can’t keep expecting him to be here for me. He’s been by my side for five whole weeks. He’s twenty-four. He has to live his life or else he’ll end up like me.

  It isn’t long until the taxi is rolling to a stop, and I glance up to see the familiar exterior of my cast-iron building come into view. With a small smile, I pay the cab driver and grab my things from the seat next to me, unfolding myself from the cramped back seat.

  A cold wind barrels down the empty street, and I fight with my purse, clasping my coat lapels together to shield from the iciness. I hurry across the sidewalk toward the secure external door, but when I look up from the pavement, I come to a sudden and crashing stop, my handbag and satchel falling to the ground with a clutter at my feet.

  My eyes bulge and I gape at the shadowy figure waiting at the entrance to the lobby, a big duffel bag on the ground beside his scuffed boots, a sad-looking bunch of gas station flowers in his hand.

  It can’t be. My eyes have to be playing tricks on me.

  Surely I’m seeing things.

  It has to be my imagination, or my questionable sanity.

  “C-Colt?”

  He lifts his chin, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lights shining out from the lobby. He reaches a hand up, tentatively removing his Stetson, raking his fingers through his hair, his eyes dark yet blazing through the muted light as he stares down at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

  “W-what … are you d-doing here?” I stammer, my voice breathless and broken.

  He takes a step closer, effectively closing the distance between us.

  Hesitating, I reach a trembling hand out, my fingers grazing his coat as if at any moment he’s about to disappear into a cloud of smoke. But when I touch him, he doesn’t disappear. He’s real. And I find myself grasping at him, holding him so tight, releasing the breath I’ve been holding as my shoulders sag in relief.

  “Hey, Quinny.” A small, nervous smile tugs at his lips.

  “W-what …?” I shake my head, looking him up and down. “H-how?”

  “I got a call from your friend Oliver, last night,” he begins, pausing to study my reaction.

  My brows knit together as I gape up at him.

  “You were in the bathroom …” He shrugs. “I told him you’d be pissed at him if you knew he was calling me, but he said he didn’t care becau
se your happiness is worth a day or two of moodiness.” He chuckles softly.

  I think back to last night, when I naively handed Oliver my cell to order me an Uber. Of course I knew he would do something stupid. But I thought maybe he’d post a fake status on my Facebook page, or tweet something inappropriate like a fake dick pic. I didn’t imagine he’d actually call Colt.

  “Oh my God …” I sigh, bowing my head a moment, making a mental note to kill Oliver, or buy him another pair of Louboutins; I can’t decide.

  “Quinn, I wanted to come here so bad. I just … I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

  I meet Colt’s eyes again, searching them, and I see a frail hopelessness within his gaze that hurts my heart.

  “What I did, I just … I should have told you about Emmy, I just couldn’t …” He shakes his head, unable to finish. “I’m sorry … I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Just say whatever you need to say.” I encourage him with a nod.

  “I should have told you about Emmy. About Rylie. About everything. I was just so thankful that I finally had you back in my life, and I was terrified of losing you again, for good.”

  I watch him a moment longer as he struggles so openly to find his words.

  “Quinn, when you left me all those years ago, I lost everything. You were my all, my reason for waking up every goddamn day. Without you, I had no reason for living. After the accident I had no idea what I was going to do with my life, whether or not I was even gonna keep going on. But I did go on. Because I knew one day, maybe, just maybe you would come back to me. It was that hope that kept me going.” He implores me with his eyes, his hands reaching for mine, gripping them so tight. “I never loved Rylie. I tried. But I couldn’t. She wasn’t you. I didn’t love her, I just missed you. And, now that I’ve got you again, I can’t let you go, Quinn. I won’t. I don’t want anything else in my life. You’re it.”

  I blink at him. Taken aback by those words.

  He shakes his head, steadying me with a look that touches my heart. “Despite what’s happened, whether it’s right or wrong, you’re my one, Quinn Wagner. All I want in my life is you, and our happy ever after.”

  I’m breathless. The world around me dissipates, fading into the blackness of night.

  “I … I love you, Colt.” I blink back the tears threatening me. “I don’t care about what’s happened. Well, I do … but I care about us more. And I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize that you’re all I want, and that you’re enough for me, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for.”

  He closes his eyes, releasing what appears to be a breath of relief. “You don’t know how badly I needed to hear that.” He opens his eyes again, finding mine. “I missed you these last few weeks. Hell, I’ve been missing you for ten long years.”

  “You’re actually here,” I say more to myself than to him, thinking back to the last time he was here, when he proposed to me all those years ago. “Here, in New York.”

  He makes a face, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust, and I can’t help but laugh.

  Colt hates the city life. He’s always been a country boy. And as I glance up at him, dressed in his riding boots, his worn jeans, a pearl-snap shirt beneath a suede jacket with a fluffy wool collar, he sure does look out of place on the cobblestone streets of Tribeca. But I really wouldn’t have him any other way. He’s not just a cowboy, he’s my cowboy. New York City be damned.

  “I love you, Quinny. And I don’t want to be apart from you.” He grabs my hips, holding me close. “If I have to move out here … I will. I’ll do anything if it means being with you.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want you coming out here.”

  His face falls momentarily as he tries to process my unexpected words.

  “You don’t have to come to New York City, Colt.” I smile. “Because I’m coming home.”

  “To the Canyon?”

  I nod.

  A smile claims his entire face, his eyes lighting up, dimples pulling into his cheeks. “You’re serious?” he asks. “Like, for real?”

  I nod, laughing at his reaction. I swear, I’ve never seen him so happy.

  “You’re coming back for me?”

  I nod. “It’s always been you, Colt. It always will be.”

  He takes a moment, allowing my words and the sentiment behind them to fully sink in, but then his strong arms come around me, enveloping me so tight, I almost can’t breathe. When his lips crash against mine it feels like with just one kiss I’m suddenly brought back to life. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, sighing into our exchange before giggling against his mouth like a damn schoolgirl, when he actually sweeps me up off my feet and twirls me around and around, mid-kiss.

  When I find my feet again, I pull back, gaping up at him, taking him in from his glassy eyes full of wonderment and happiness, to his swollen lips glistening from our kiss. He’s the most beautiful man in the whole word. He takes my breath away. And he’s all mine.

  “You know, I’m still pissed you left me in the middle of a field with a pack of wolves lurking in the bushes …” I quirk a brow at him.

  His jaw drops, and he gauges me a moment. “Yeah? Well, I’m still pissed you left me at the altar on our wedding day.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but then I realize he has a point. I press my lips together, staring into his eyes as a moment passes between us, one where each of us is obviously trying so hard not to laugh.

  “Call it even?” I ask with a nervous, hopeful smile.

  With an indulgent roll of his eyes, Colt shakes his head, smirking at me as he ducks to rest his forehead against mine, staring deep into my eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me, Quinny.”

  And I do. I kiss him again, and again, and again, right there on a darkened sidewalk, in the middle of New York City, my one dream finally coming true.

  Epilogue

  The sun beams down from high in the summer sky, shining down over the entire valley, casting an effervescent glow upon everything in its path. A gentle breeze sweeps through the long grass, causing the leaves to rustle in the trees, birds singing, butterflies floating aimlessly through the air.

  I breathe a contented sigh, looking out over the endless view of Wagner Ranch winding through the hills and the mountains, as if it goes on forever. Smiling to myself, I place a hand over the small, growing bump beneath my dress, and for a moment I just exist in this one place, feeling so overwhelmed with love and happiness, and joy, I could cry. Damn hormones.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say, glancing at my father’s tombstone beside me, to my mother’s right next to his. “Hi, Momma,” I say a little more softly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been up to see you guys in a while. But I’m here now.”

  I stretch my legs out, getting comfortable. “Dr. Munro says I have preeclampsia, which is why I haven’t been feeling well. He said I need to take it easy for the remainder of the pregnancy. So now Colt won’t even let me lift a damn finger. I swear, he actually stands outside the bathroom door while I’m peeing, just to check I’m okay. I’m going to lose it if he keeps this up for the next sixteen weeks. I can’t even work on the books without him watching me like some kind of weird, creeping stalker. As if I’m going to spontaneously combust while carrying a remainder …” I roll my eyes. “He’s doing everything. Working here at Wagner. Building our house at the Henry Ranch. He wants it done in time for the baby, but that’s probably not going to happen.” I shake my head. “I’m worried he’s going to burn out, but you know him. He won’t stop until everything is done.”

  I pick at a long piece of grass, twirling it between my fingers, listening to the sound of the afternoon as it goes on around me. I glance up at the tall pine trees, glimpses of the sky flashing through the leaves. I look out at the mountains in the distance, and I sigh a slightly defeated sigh, reaching out and stroking my fingers over Dad’s face in the marble of his headstone.

  A sad smile curls at my lips. “I guess I really just needed
to be with you today. Of all the days, this is the one I knew I would spend missing you the most. I wish you could be here. I really need my dad today.” A solitary tear wins the battle of emotion deep within me, slowly trailing down over my cheek, and I wipe it away, sniffling once. “I’m in such an emotional state at the moment. It’s so unlike me. It’s embarrassing!” I scoff at myself.

  “Hey, Quinny?”

  I startle, turning to see Tripp walking in through the small gates.

  “You ready?” he asks, tapping his watch.

  “Oh, yeah.” I quickly wipe my cheeks once again, not wanting to give myself away. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that was the time.”

  I begin to push up from the grass, but Tripp quickly swoops in, his big hands on my shoulders.

  “Stop!” he mutters. “I’ll help you.”

  “I can get up, you know!” I roll my eyes when he grabs both of my hands, carefully craning me up onto my feet.

  “You don’t understand.” He steadies me with a serious look. “Colt said he will kick my ass if I don’t get you there in one piece.”

  I laugh under my breath, shaking my head at my brother as I wipe the dry grass from the back of my dress.

  “You okay?” Tripp asks, looking closely.

  I nod.

  “You’ve been crying?”

  “Yes. I’m pregnant, remember,” I deadpan, quirking a brow. “I’ve been crying for four months.”

  This time it’s Tripp who rolls his eyes, but instead of saying anything, he just pulls me in for a hug I wasn’t expecting, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

  I stand there for a long moment, just basking in my brother’s embrace, smiling to myself.

  “You ready to do this?”

  I look up at him, meeting his eyes, and I nod with a small smile.

  “It’s about damn time.” He smirks down at me.

  Grabbing my hand, Tripp leads the way back to his truck parked down the hill, and we say nothing more as I take a few extra-deep breaths, my heart suddenly racing in a way I’ve never felt it race before.

  ***

  “You sure you wanna do this?” Tripp asks from the driver’s seat after we pull up at the main house.