Their home.
That feeling of coming home to someone, of having someone always in his space—he didn’t know how much he missed it until she was here. In only a few short weeks, they’ve settled into a routine. Natural. Normal, like it was meant to be. Like those stars knew something that Nashville night. Set him on a course for Tessie, and he’ll never look back.
Because he wants this. Every damn day for the rest of his life. Go to work, come home to Tessie and his son.
His entire world.
Sensing him, Tessie startles and turns. “You’re home.”
Home. His chest swells at the word.
She inclines her golden head. “You like to lurk in the shadows, Solemn Man, and watch me wobble around?”
Solomon laughs softly. “You don’t wobble.”
“I do. But I wobble with style.” She smiles. “How was work?”
He takes off his jacket, shaking snow from the sleeves as he climbs the last few stairs.
Peggy’s curled up on the bed, giving a sleepy woof as he approaches. “Finalized the menu. Howler had a minor freak-out when his liquor order was delivered to the wrong address, but we survived, and the liquor is safely put away.” He steps closer, studies the pictures on the wall.
She flushes. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d decorate.”
Shaking his head, he moves for her, dipping to kiss her, then pulls her to his side. “Not at all.” He swallows, staring at the photo of them in Mexico. The one she took when they were stuffed in the hammock. “I love it.”
Tessie waves at the small space she’s decorated. The rocking chair with a knit baby blanket draped over the frame. “It’s all ready.” Her nose wrinkles. “Now all we need is the crib.”
Solomon smiles when he catches the small yawn she’s trying to hide.
“Tired?” he asks, running a hand beneath her hair and over her neck.
“You’re like Ash’s smelling salts.” She nuzzles against him. “You keep me alive. Awake.”
“You think you can stay awake for a surprise?”
Her chocolate-brown eyes light up. “I’m always down for a surprise.”
Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Stay here. Close your eyes.”
With that, Solomon disappears into the small, sloped attic space and brings out what he’s been working on for the last two weeks. His way to unwind in the dark, quiet nights with Tessie sleeping in their bed, the stars shining bright through the skylight.
“Okay,” he says when he gets his surprise settled. “Look.”
She does.
A soft gasp fills the space between them. Slices of silver flood Tessie’s dark eyes. In front of her sits a simple gray-brown crib with arched ends.
Slowly, she approaches, running her hands along the smooth wood frame. “You made this?” Her voice has gone dreamy.
“I did. I wanted Bear to have a piece of Chinook. It’s blue pine,” he offers. “It meets crib safety standards. I made sure of it.”
She smiles up at him, her full, pink lips trembling. Tears stream down her face. He swears she’s trying to kill him. Tess crying is par for the course these days, but he still hates to see it. Her tears have the power to absolutely wreck him.
“Can we put it on the wall?” Tessie sniffles.
He lifts it easily, moving it beneath the sloped eave of the roof. The photo of Tessie and him in the hammock hangs overhead. When he lifts the blanket from the rocking chair to drape over the rail, a sharp inhale of air from Tessie has him turning.
“Baby, what is it?”
“You look like a father.”
He swallows down the lump in his throat, her words threatening to take him to his knees.
At his silence, she touches fingertips to her lips. “Does that scare you?”
“No. It makes me happy.” He takes a giant step to pull her into his arms, loving how easily she fits. He sweeps the tears on her cheeks away with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Tess. You kill me when you cry.”
She locks her shiny eyes with his. Places a palm over his heart. “The crib’s beautiful, Solomon. I love it. Bear will love it.”
“Rest of my life, I’m gonna take care of you and that baby.”
“I know you will.”
Her belief, her faith in him, is everything. To be the man she needs, the man she’s chosen, it humbles him.
He smiles down at her, slipping a hand into her golden hair. In her face, her wide brown eyes, he sees his future. He sees everything.
And in his arms, shining like the sun, his world undimming, his eternity—Tessie.
The night the blizzard hits Chinook, Tessie wakes with a cramp in her belly. She’s curled up in Solomon’s arms, his steel frame draped over her like one of those calming anxiety blankets. A broad palm covers the top of her head, one arm curled protectively over her waist. Bear batters her from within, and she rests a palm on her belly, as if she can calm him. Then slowly, she inches her way out of Solomon’s tight grasp. Not used to the cold, she pulls on furry socks and a flannel and pads across the hardwood to the rocking chair.
She sits and rocks and looks up to the skylight.
Snow flurries across the inky black sky. She knows what’s out there, the jagged mountains, the alpine forest, a stream Bear will fish in, but right now, all that exists is darkness. The stars. Immediacy. The here and now. Maybe this is the lesson her mother wanted her to learn. That somewhere out there, the stars align, and a person finds their place.
A lesson she wants Bear to learn as well.
With a sigh, Tessie coasts her hand over the swell of her stomach. Her breasts are heavy; her feet ache. Her belly is as hard as a rock.
Soon, she thinks, and her heart beats faster. He’ll be here soon.
All this hope. Their son. She can’t wait to meet him.
“Tess.” Solomon’s urgent voice floats through the darkened room. He’s searching the room, but he hasn’t found her. Sitting up in bed, he’s illuminated by the moonlight, his broad shoulders, the sinew of his muscular back.
“I’m still here,” she says softly. “I didn’t leave.”
At her words, his tense shoulders relax. Then comes a swift rustle of sheets.
Solomon’s hand presses on her shoulder.
Without speaking, they trade spots. She stands, and Solomon settles in the chair. Then he’s pulling Tessie onto his lap. She curls up in his arms, resting her head between his collar and jaw. She closes her eyes, inhaling the woodsy scent of his beard. Solomon rocks. The motion is soothing, like a gentle wave stealing over her.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, palming her stomach.
“No. This baby’s an absolute maniac.” She sighs. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t.”
He’s right. She didn’t. If she’s not beside him, he’ll wake. He’ll come looking for her. She’s learned this. She’s learned so many things about her Solemn Man this last month, and she loves them all.
Voice hoarse with sleep, he asks, “What’re you thinking about?”
“Lots of things.”
“Tell me.”
She smiles. That’s Solomon. Always ready to listen. To fix. A man who is always there, who will never walk away. From her or from Bear.
She kisses his bearded cheek. “I have to get a job.”
A grunt of disagreement. “You have to relax.”
“But I have ideas.”
“Until then, I make more than enough.”
“How?” She tugs on his beard. “You live in a cabin. You own one flannel shirt.”
A rumble of a laugh vibrates through his chest. Through hers. “I own the bar with Howler. It’s not millions, but I make more than enough for our family.”
Our family.
Oh God. If she wasn’t already head-over-heels in love with Solomon, she is now.
He nudges her face up to meet his, silencing her protests with a kiss. “I want to give you everything, Tess. So let me.”
She smiles, laying her head against his chest. “You make it sound easy.”
“It is easy. Because you’re mine.” He pulls her closer. “Next?”
“I was thinking about food.”
A chuckle leaves Solomon’s lips. “First meal?”
She smiles. “Mmm. Champagne. Steak. Rare. A mountain of brie.”