Page 17 of Faith Notes
“Look at me,” I say, lifting her chin. “Do you think I don’t worry about being a dad? People say I tend to be grumpy, and there are so many ways I don’t know how to be a dad because I didn’t have that growing up. But we will figure it out together, Peach. If Brooks can raise a kid, surely we can’t mess this up too badly.” The poke at my brother gets a grin out of her just like I knew it would. It’s a little wobbly, but it’s there. “We might not get it perfect, but this baby will be loved. And honestly, I think love is all you need to get it right.”
“I love you, Grayson. I hope you know that.”
I press a kiss to her forehead before giving her a cheeky grin. “I do.”
Chapter 7
Georgia
18 Weeks
Grayson covers my eyes as we walk out the door onto the patio. We’ve had many memorable moments out here, from simple talks to his proposal. It’s one of my favorite places because of that simple fact alone.
So when he uncovers my eyes, and I see a multitude of lanterns lit and hanging throughout the branches of the trees, I know tonight will be another moment I add to my list of favorites.
“What is all this?” I ask, staring around in wonder.
A small wooden table, big enough for two people, sits below the tree. Candles burn in the center, casting a romantic glow.
“This,” Grayson says, placing his hand on the small of my back, “is me continuing to date my wife. I know this pregnancy hasn’t been easy for you, so I figured a date night “in” might help.”
“Gray, this is—I don’t even know what to say. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”
He pulls my chair out for me, lightly kissing my cheek as I sit. “You deserve this, Peach. You always deserve this.”
Heat blooms into my face at the roughness of his voice, and when he walks around to his side of the table, I can’t stop my eyes from roaming over him, soaking him in.
He’s dressed in a black button-up shirt, and a few of the top buttons are loose, revealing tattoos that crawl from his chest up his neck. His sleeves are cuffed, and muscles pop along his forearm as he picks up his wine glass and tilts it my way. There’s a soft smirk on his face as I ogle him unabashedly, but I can’t help it. There’s such a vast contrast to him—rough and yet refined—that sometimes it makes it hard not to stare at him.
“Are you going to stare all day, Peach, or are we going to eat?” He asks, that smirk growing sharper. “I’m okay either way—just need to plan accordingly.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes because I know that is the only way I’ll be able to bring myself to stop staring at him.
“This is why I’m keeping the picture. It will be good for your ego,” I say, offering him my own smirk.
His eyebrows dip, scowling at me, but there’s humor sparkling in his eyes. “That’s cruel.”
I lift one shoulder, appearing blase. “You say cruel. I saystrategic.”
I stress the last word, mimicking his words from earlier, and his answering chuckle is like music to my ears.
With a shake of his head and the chuckle still on his lips, he reaches down, pulling up a picnic basket from beside him. “Fine. You keep it, but payback is coming.”
It’s said with a wink, and my heart flutters like a teenage girl going on her first date.
He turns to the picnic basket, pulling out food from inside.
And with each item he pulls out, tears sting my eyes a little more.
There’s nothing complex about the food in each container. The meals are simple, but it’s the idea that he took the time to make all this that hits me so hard. “When did you cook all this?”
He shrugs. “I went over to the guest house and cooked while you were working. I wanted everything to be a surprise.”
“It is, Gray. Honestly, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” he plates my food, handing it over to me, and once he has his, I start to dig in.
“This is delicious.”
