Page 80 of Not Our First Rodeo
“She is sweet,” he says, and pushes up out of his chair, coming to stand beside us. When he lifts her off my chest and holds her against his own, I think I could cry just from looking at them. I can’t believe this almost didn’t happen. That if I hadn’t stepped into a bar eight months ago, he never would have taken me home. I never would have kissed him, and he never would have peeled my clothes off. I never would have stared at that positive pregnancy test and known my life had just flipped upside down. Again. We never would have found our way back to each other.
If it weren’t for that perfect little baby in his arms, we never would have had our second chance. We never would have made something new out of the rubble.
I pull out my phone and snap a photo, knowing I’m going to frame the image of Beau holding our daughter, haloed in the golden morning light, and put it on my nightstand so I can look at it for the rest of time.
He’s humming to her now, rocking back and forth. He’s a natural at this. Last night when she cried, I fed her and he sang to her until she fell asleep on his still bare chest. I can still hear the sound of it, his deep voice singing softly in her ear. I thought my heart might explode just watching them.
Ripping my gaze from them, I pull up the web browser on my phone and type “baby names that mean new” into the search bar. Name meanings have never seemed that important to me before, and I still think if I found a name that we both loved that meant something likedesert dirt, I’d probably still choose it. But right now, we’re at a loss, and I’m ready to chase down any lead. I’m tired of not knowing what to call her, of feeling like she’s missing something vital that only we can provide.
I tap on the first website that pops up and scroll through the names until one catches my eye. In my chest, something clicks into place, the last puzzle piece on a project I’ve been working on for nine long months.
My eyes lift to Beau, still rocking our daughter, humming a tune I would recognize anywhere. It’s the song we danced to at our wedding. There’s something poetic about him humming it now. A new beginning for us.
“Beau?” I ask.
He looks up at me, still swaying. His eyes are tired but bright, so full of love I think my chest might crack open. He looks like every dream I’ve ever had come true.
“What about Nova? It means new.”
Intheory,adatenight sounds like a beautiful thing. In reality, it means I have to pump bottles for the Jenningses to give Nova, which Ihatedoing because it’s so much more difficult than just feeding her. It also means we will have to pick her back up later tonight, and she will definitely wake up and it will be impossible to get back to sleep because she’s teething and has been constantly uncomfortable for the last month.
Dating was easier than I expected the first six months of Nova’s life. Lottie and Clint were always happy to have extra time with her and we would keep date nights short enough to be between feedings. But for the last couple months, she’s been in a growth spurt and constantly hungry. And teething, which has made her in so much pain. It’s been hard on all of us.
Which is why Beau suggested a date night. Something for just us. And I’m excited, I truly am, but I’m also tired. And a night rotting on the couch sounds more appetizing than getting dressed up and going out.
My phone vibrates with a text right after I put Nova down in her playpen so I can get ready. It’s from Beau.
Beau: Wear that blue dress tonight.
He’s talking about the one Jade wore to my baby shower, the one I would have killed to fit into at the time. I dig around for it in the closet and hold it up to myself in front of the mirror. It’s going to be tighter than it was before, especially since my activity level has been way lower for the past nine months.
When I came back from maternity leave three months ago, I told Tonya I’d do it—I’d take over the studio. I wasn’t sure if I was capable before, but if motherhood has taught me anything, it’s that my abilities are limitless. We’ve been transitioning over ownership, and she’s been showing me the ropes. It means teaching fewer classes, but I’m not interested in giving that up completely, so we’re in the process of hiring a few more teachers to help with my workload.
It’s been good. Hard, but good.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, my free hand smoothing over the soft fabric. I’ve been working at the studio nonstop for the last three months, usually bringing Nova with me, and I can’t remember the last time I did something for myself. The last time I got dressed up in something other than workout clothes or jeans and a T-shirt and felt beautiful.
Maybe a date night isexactlywhat I need.
I take my time curling my hair and applying my makeup, pausing every few minutes to help Nova with something, and when I’m finished, I look at myself again. The dress falls against my skin, settling over my curves. My hair falls over my shoulders in a sheet. My perfume, carefully applied to my pulse points, makes me smell like something other thanbabyfor the first time in months.
Taking out my phone, I snap a photo and send it to Beau. He responds immediately.
Beau: I can’t take you out like that. Everyone on the premises will be drooling over you.
I smother a smile and respond.
Elsie: I’m only interested in what you think of how I look.
Beau: I can send you a VERY detailed message when I’m not standing next to my father.
Beau: Also, I got held up here. Want to just meet me at the ranch?
I respond, telling him I’ll be there soon, and pack Nova and her diaper bag into the car. She babbles the whole way there, bringing a smile to my face. When she’s not teething, she’s such a happy baby. She reminds me so much of Beau. She has my features, but his temperament. When she smiles her gummy smile at me, I swear sometimes it’s like looking right at him. She may look like me, but there’s a glimmer behind her eyes that’s all Beau.
The ride to the ranch is quick, the windows down. There’s nothing like summer in Montana. I remember sitting on our apartment balcony in Utah, watching the sunset on rare nights I made it home from the studio before dark, thinking about how they never felt quite right. The colors were there, the blues and pinks and golds, but the atmosphere was wrong. The air didn’t carry the smell of larkspurs and honeysuckle, and the mountains were all wrong.Thisis where I was always meant to be.
I turn down the long dirt road to Lucky Stars and pull beneath the familiar sign, the rusted metal stars and lasso seeming to wink at me in the sunshine. The sight of it has always made me feel like I’m home, but it means something even more special to me now. When we told the Jenningses the name we had picked out, Clint called her our little lucky star, and they haven’t stopped since.
