Page 88 of Worth the Wait

"It's perfect," I whisper, setting down the coffee mugs on the outdoor table.

Jackson's arm slides around my waist, his hand splaying possessively across the small of my back. "Better than we imagined, right?"

"So much better."

His fingers trace circles against my skin through the thin cotton, a subtle touch that sends shivers cascading down my spine. Even though we've been together for years now, his touch still electrifies me, still makes my breath catch and my pulse quicken.

Daisy returns with her toy, climbing onto her special chair, a mini Adirondack painted sunflower yellow that my father madefor her. We settle around the table, this new tradition in our new home feeling so special.

"We should have a picnic in the field later," Jackson suggests, passing me the maple syrup. "Show Daisy where it all began."

"Where what began, Daddy?" Daisy asks, focused on arranging her pancake pieces into precise triangles.

"Where Mommy and Daddy fell in love," he tells her. "A very long time ago."

"Were you old?" she asks innocently.

I laugh, spearing a blueberry. "We were very young, honey. Just teenagers."

"Did you kiss?" she asks, her nose wrinkling with particular disgust.

"Eventually," Jackson answers with a wink at me. "After Mommy stopped being mad at me for stealing her biology notes."

"I was not!" I protest, then catch myself. "Okay, maybe I was a little annoyed."

"A little?" He raises an eyebrow. "You threatened to report me to the honor council."

"Well, you deserved it." I slide my foot against his beneath the table.

"Worth it," he murmurs, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that still makes my breath catch. "Got me a milkshake date with the most beautiful girl in school."

"And now we have a house!" Daisy interjects, clearly bored with our romantic reminiscing.

"Yes, baby." I laugh, stroking her hair. "Now we have a house. And you. And your little brother coming soon."

She considers this seriously. "And the daisies. We have all the daisies too."

"We certainly do," Jackson agrees, his hand finding mine across the table. "Fields and fields of them."

The afternoon sun hangs high overhead as we spread a quilt over the ground in the daisy field. Daisy runs ahead, arms outstretched as she weaves through flowers nearly as tall as she is, her laughter carried on the summer breeze.

"Careful not to go too far!" I call, lowering myself onto the blanket with considerably less grace than I possessed before pregnancy.

Jackson settles beside me, unpacking the picnic basket we've filled with sandwiches, fruit, and the chocolate peanut butter cookies he baked this morning—my pregnancy craving that he's indulged without complaint.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his hand resting on my knee, thumb tracing circles that send warmth spiraling up my thigh.

"Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," I answer honestly.

His fingers trail higher, teasing the sensitive skin just above my knee in a way that makes my breath hitch. "I meant physically, but I'll take that answer too."

I lean against him, my head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest that feels like it was designed just for me. "Physically, I'm hot, my feet are swollen, and your son is doing kickboxing practice against my ribs. But I wouldn't change a thing."

Jackson's arm curls around me, pulling me closer. "Remember the first time we sat in this field? You were weaving daisy crowns long before I knew you’d be mine."

"And you were pretending to watch clouds while actually staring at me," I tease.

"Guilty as charged." His lips brush my temple, the contact sending a cascade of goosebumps across my skin. "You were so fiery and focused, even then. The brilliant Tarryn Wells with her perfect color-coded notes and her big plans to change the world."

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