He is perfect.
The little human staring up at me is completely and utterly perfect. The dark crop of hair on his tiny head, the long lashes framing big brown eyes that, if you didn’t already know, tell you exactly who his mother is, those chubby fucking thighs that do weird things to my heart. For such a small thing, he’s so fucking warm, like a hot water bottle cradled in my arms.
“He looks like Lux,” Jackson murmurs quietly, stroking a finger down one chubby cheek.
That’s undeniable. The baby is the spitting image of his mother. But there’s something there, something that’s undeniably someone else. “He looks like you.”
Jackson beams.
He’s smitten with his new nephew, completely fucking smitten. Every single thing about the kid fascinates him. Right now, it’s the way he’s wrapping his tiny fingers around Jackson’s thumb, gnawing on it and gurgling happily.
It’s been two weeks and the novelty of baby cuteness has yet to wear off. Even when he’s screaming his head off and keeping everyone awake and shitting and pissing everywhere. You get mad for a moment and then he does something adorable and you forget he vomited on your favorite shirt. I don’t think any of us have ever been so unbothered while so sleep deprived because the kid is too fucking sweet.
Lux has taken to it all like a duck to water. Ironically, the only one who wasn’t freaking out after her water broke was her. Grace looked terrified, Eliza looked like she was about to vomit, Lottie was yelling because she had Lux’s bodily fluids all over her shoes, and Jackson… God, I don’t even want to remember what Jackson was like because honestly, it hurt to watch.
But through it all, Lux was calm. Stoic, almost. She handled it like a fucking badass and an ungodly amount of hours later, she held her little boy for the first time and cried her fucking eyes out.
For a whole fortnight, she’s refused to leave his side but today, at the more than a little insistent prompting from her brother, she left us in charge of the kid. She was reluctant—if there’s anything she hates more than taking her eyes off her kid, it’s accepting help—but the allure of a bath and her bed was too strong.
“Hi, Alex,” Jackson coos softly, rubbing his nephew’s plump little tummy. “You did so good today.”
I snicker quietly. “I still can’t believe she actually called him Alexander.”
We thought she was joking, at first. We all had a little ha-ha moment before we caught Lux’s deadpan expression and realized she was serious.
“What?” she’d said. “Men name their kids after themselves all the time, and they don’t do any of the hard shit.”
And, well, shit. How can anyone argue with that?
Alexander Oscar Jackson.
Named after the two best people in the family, Lux joked.
Named after her two favorite people, she added, but I have a feeling one half of that joke is very, very genuine.
“Really?” Jackson chuckles quietly, tearing his eyes off the new love of his life long enough to look at the old one, brown eyes sparkling humorously at me. “I’m surprised she didn’t go the full mile and call him Lux.”
My chest shakes with a laugh, disturbing the baby nestled against me. He cries out in a little whine and not a second passes before Jackson shushes him gently, carefully transferring Alex from my arms to his.
Sitting back in Lux’s ridiculously comfortable new rocking chair, I watch the two of them and, not for the first time, I fear Ben was right.
Something about a man and a baby really does make your reproductive organs weep.
Like I said, the man is smitten. Bottle feeds, diaper changes, baths, he does all of it with a smile. Every waking moment of Alex’s day, he’s got his uncle doting on him. I never thought I’d be jealous of a baby but, yeah, I’m a little jealous.
Jackson catches me staring and whatever expression I’m sporting earns me an amused look. “What?”
“You look good with a baby.” The understatement of the century.
His deep, husky laugh fades into a winced groan when Alex tugs on a strand of his hair. Carefully detangling his grabby hands, his head drops to kiss Alex’s cheek before he returns his attention to me. “Line’s gonna watch him tonight for a few hours.”
“Oh?”
Jackson hums, the noise vibrating through Alex’s cheeks and making him kick his chubby little legs wildly. “I wanna take you somewhere.”
I perk up. “Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Just can’t believe you can tear yourself away from him.”
Cradling the baby in one hand, he cups my cheek with the other, smoothing his thumb over my skin. “Feeling neglected?”
I scoff. “No.”
Jackson chuckles quietly. Urging me to stand, he takes my seat before pulling me down on his lap, carefully resituating Alex so he’s cuddled between us. “In case I haven’t said it, thank you for helping so much the last few weeks.”
Shrugging, I catch one of Alex’s kicking feet in my hand. “I don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t.” Fingers curl beneath my chin and tilt my head towards Jackson. “But thank you anyway.”
Unable to help myself, I steal the lightest of kisses. “You’re welcome.”
“Where are we going?” When my question is met by nothing but annoying silence, I groan. “Come on, not even a hint?”
More silence, only the twitch of his lips letting me know he heard me. With a huff, I slump in my seat and squint at our surroundings.
Trees. That’s my only clue. We drive past trees, and trees, and more trees. Vaguely familiar trees but trees all the same.
“Are you taking me to meet the new ranch hand?”
The excitement in my tone earns me some serious side-eye. It’s not my fault; I’ve only been blessed with the man from a distance but Lux’s very detailed descriptions would spark anyone’s curiosity.
Save a horse, ride a cowboy, is her new favorite motto.
For God’s sake, even Caroline blushes at the mere mention of the man.
Squeezing my thigh, Jackson promises, “We’ll be there soon.”
He sounds weird. He’s being weird. Acting all nervous. Shifty-eyed and twitchy. Stealing my move and tapping his fingers haphazardly against the steering wheel.
It’s freaking me out more than a little, especially because the only thing coming to my mind that explains why the fuck he’s acting this way is honestly fucking terrifying.
“Are you proposing?” I blurt out before I can stop myself, and Jackson jolts in his seat. “Jackson, I love you, but I swear to God if you’re proposing when I haven’t gotten my nails done in almost a month-”
“Relax.” I’m not sure if he laughs or chokes. “I’m not proposing.”
“Then why are you being all weird?”
“I’m not-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Just wait, okay?”
Wait.
Hm.
I’ve never been particularly good at that.
What feels like an hour but is realistically no more than a few minutes later, our surroundings become more recognizable.
The lookout point where I told him I loved him for the first time looks as beautiful as it did last year, except there’s something remarkably different about it.
What once was an empty clearing is now what looks to be the beginnings of a construction site. There’s nothing but a raised foundation and some wooden framing, but I can tell it’s the shell of a house.
What. The. Fuck.
“Jackson,” I breathe shakily, feet a little unsteady as I clamber out of the car. “What the hell is this?”
“My house.” Shaky voice? Check. A touch of determination? Also check. “Well, it will be. When it’s built. I only finished the designs last month so it won’t be ready for a while.”
I blink at the enormous unfinished structure decorating what’s arguably my favorite spot on the ranch, and then I blink at its owner. “You designed this?”
He nods, lips tipping up in a boyish grin. “Can’t quite build houses but I draw them pretty well.”
So you build houses?
God, I remember that like it was yesterday. Seeing him in the art store and being so damn flustered, I blurted out the most dumbass question.
I knew what a goddamn architect was. I knew they didn’t build houses. But, for the first time of many in Jackson’s presence, I panicked and my inner bimbo eagerly rose to the surface.
But then his mouth stretched in a smile, the first proper one I ever got from him, and my embarrassment dissipated. I remember thinking, damn, I’d embarrass myself every day of my life for the rest of my life if I got that smile as a consolation prize.
It’s the same smile he wears now as I stare blankly at him, my mind working overtime sifting through a million questions.
“Your grandparents let you build here?” I wouldn’t think they’d let him do anything that doesn’t directly benefit them and building a house on a prime location for some new touristy shit doesn’t seem very beneficial.
“Uh, not exactly.” That nervous energy returns full-force, making him shift from one leg to the other, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. “They don’t own the ranch anymore. I do.”
There’s a pause. A long-ass pause in which those two words repeat on a loop in my head until they lose all meaning. “You do.”
Jackson barely nods.
“You own the ranch.”
He nods again, a little more sure this time.
“You bought this ranch.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I did.”
“You bought Serenity Ranch and you didn’t tell me.”
Jackson winces.
“When?”
“Uh.” One big shaky hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck. “The beginning of the year.”
“The beginning of this year?”
He winces again.
Months.
Months ago he bought this place.
Months in which we were together. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to freak you out.”
He didn’t want to freak me out.
That, at least, I can understand.
He didn’t want to drop a ranch-sized bomb right when we were getting back to normal.
How nice of him.
“So you’re gonna live here? Permanently?” Hours away from me?
Jackson’s sad smile conveys he’s thinking the exact same thing. “That’s the plan. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“It’s okay.” And it is. I think, deep down, I suspected he’d move back here. He never really suited the city, not like he suits this place. I’m not, like, mad or anything.
I’m just not quite sure where it leaves me.
Swallowing hard, my gaze drifts back to the bare-bones structure. “Big house for one person.”
“That’s true.” Tentative steps approach me from behind, nervous hands settling on my hips. “Gotta have room for my sisters.”
“Obviously.”
“And one for Alex.”
“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t.”
“And an apartment above the garage for Ben.”
That pulls a laugh out of me. “Of course.”
Strong arms lock across my stomach and pull me back against a hard chest, warm breath tickling my cheek. “And room for all your shit.”
My breath catches in my throat. “I think you underestimate how much shit I have.”
“There’s room, sweetheart. Whatever you want, there’s room for it.”
I turn in his arms, my fingers grasping his collar so tightly I practically have him in a chokehold. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
The back of my hand meets his chest. “Don’t tease.” His mischievous smile smoothes out into a serious expression, and I try again. “This isn’t us sharing a room. This is sharing a house.”
A whole ass house. Our house. A very fucking permanent house that he designed for his family. For us.
Don’t cry.
“Luna,” Jackson says softly, both hands moving to tuck my hair behind my ears before cupping my face. “I know this isn’t very romantic and you’re supposed to be romantic when you’re asking someone to live with you.” A very ugly noise rips from my throat. “If you say no, I’ll understand. I’ll still love you.”
I wait for it. I wait for the voice in my head to tell me to run, for the ‘leave first before they leave you’ mentality to kick in and ruin everything.
I almost cry when it doesn’t.
It takes several deep breaths and a brief moment of internally bullying myself to suck it up, but I eventually manage to breathe out, “Go on, then. Ask me.”
He laughs so hard it vibrates through my entire body. “You wanna make this our house, sweetheart?”
For maybe the first time in my life, I don’t hesitate.
“Fuck yeah.”
