Page 104 of Crashing the Altar
He didn’t treat me like glass, but he worried too much, even though my pregnancy had been picture-perfect, minus that one blip. I was healthy. Our baby was healthy and growing right on track.
I tapped his forearm and curled my fingers, signaling that I needed help to sit up. His hand in mine gave me the leverage I needed, and I tucked my legs beneath me before reaching up to smooth the crease lines from his forehead.
“I’m pregnant, Tripp. I would be exhausted just lying around here doing nothing all day.”
A rumble came from his chest in response.
“And you need to cut our mamas a little slack. This is new for both of them, and they’re excited.”
Tripp muttered, “My mama’s already got a grandbaby.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But I’ve been told she can claim it being the first time all over again because the last one was the first girl, and this one will be the first boy.” He shot me a side-eye, and I held up my hands in surrender. “I don’t make the rules.”
My man merely grunted. There was nothing I could say that was going to get him to chill out. The best I could hope for was a distraction.
Gesturing the coffee table, I asked, “What’s that?”
Tripp’s brows drew down as he stared at the roll that was no less than three feet long, almost as if he’d gotten so caught up in his head that he’d forgotten what it was. I watched a spark of recognition light up in his blue gaze, and he leaned forward to slip off the rubber band that had been keeping it contained.
“I popped over to Mac and Aspen’s earlier—“
“Excuse me?” My voice rose in pitch.
His head whipped around so fast I heard his neck crack. Eyes wide, he asked, “What?”
I let out an annoyed exhale. “You got Reagan cuddles? Withoutme?”
My husband’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no words came out. Blowing out a breath, he raked a hand through his dark hair. “Is this one of those times I accept there’s no reasoning with the pregnancy hormones and just start packing up my overnight bag now?”
Narrowing my eyes, I let him sweat it out for a minute before I said, “Can’t be too mad, seein’ as how I spent all evening over there last night when you said you were gonna be working late.”
Tripp’s eyebrows rose. “That so?”
My lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “I’m kinda addicted to her. Keep trying to sneak her out inside my coat, but Mac stops me every time. It’s like he really likes his kid or something.”
“Imagine that.” He chuckled, the earlier tension leaving his shoulders.
I let out a wistful sigh, rubbing a hand over my swollen stomach. “It’s gonna be really special watching them grow up together on the ranch.”
There was a sharp kick against my palm, almost like our little boy agreed.
“Speaking of growing up on the ranch . . .” Tripp unrolled the giant piece of paper, using his cell phone to pin down one side, a discarded book on the other.
My eyes scanned the sketch before I looked to him in question. “A house?”
Tripp gestured around the one-room cabin. The already small space was made even more cramped by all the baby gear—and that was before we even added the baby. “You wanna stay here forever?”
“Not forever.” I sighed. “But it’s more than adequate for a couple starting out.”
“We’re more than a couple.” He smoothed one hand over my belly. “We’re a family.”
“Your parents hadtwobabies while they lived in this very cabin,“ I pointed out.
“Out of necessity. Not by choice,” he countered. “Now, Mac said if we approve the plans, he’ll put in a call with the contractor who did their house, and they should be able to begin construction as soon as the ground thaws in the spring. It won’t be ready when Bubba gets here”—his fingers danced along my bump—“but they’re estimating that with a double crew, we can move in by Halloween.”
I rolled my eyes. “His name’s not Bubba.”
Tripp smirked. “You’re right. It’s TJ.”
