Page 82

BONUS SCENE

ASA

“Montana, come out here for a minute, please,” I ask here.

I’m standing in the newly finished Florida room, an addition she mentioned in passing.

Our house had been slowly overtaken by plants in every nook and cranny, while I didn’t mind.

Montana said a few of them weren’t getting adequate sunlight, and the grow bulbs she purchased online weren’t cutting it either.

It meant she’d have to rotate plants or even put more on the front porch.

Every morning, she’d walk out of the house, looking at the ones outside longingly, and say a Florida room would help this.

I’d put a plan together, asked my brothers for help, and then pulled the permits.

After six weekends of working sunup to sundown, the project was finally completed.

“Where’s here?” I hear Montana say through the house.

She’s been slowly adding her touches to the Florida room this whole week.

I’d also come home from work one day to see my pregnant wife coming up with another one of her ideas of getting things done while I was at work.

There Montana was, thinking it was a good idea to stand on a step stool with no one else home with her besides our son, Camden, while she painted.

Never mind that the room had already been painted, the trim put up, and the flooring laid down.

She got it in her head that the room was missing something.

Color, the same one Montana herself picked out, and days later, she no longer liked.

She and Camden went to the hardware store, then got busy, until I got home, swooped her off the step stool, and we had words.

Camden thought we were a riot; meanwhile, I’d been sick with worry when I walked in and saw what she was doing.

We had a few words, one where she stood up to me and told me in no uncertain terms that painting wouldn’t hurt her or our unborn baby.

The windows were open, and she had bought a low chemical paint, which was her argument.

Hands on her hips, six months pregnant, all belly, and looking more beautiful than ever.

Still, I replied, "No shit," which riled her up more, causing me to explain my worry from a different perspective. One where had she fallen, no one would be home, and it’d leave Camden to make a phone call that could traumatize him for life.

There had been tears, her heart sank, right along with mine.

I held her in my arms until she recovered, and then I got to painting right along with her.

“The Florida room,” I tell her, waiting to hear her feet pad through the house.

Camden has been by my side all day, my boy is a trooper, and has no problem going on small road trips.

It probably helped that halfway through the two-hour drive, we stopped for gas, meaning he got to go to the gas station, pick out a couple of snacks, and a cherry ICEE.

A couple of days ago, Montana left her tablet open to a plant she’d been looking at, but muttered the price was freaking unreasonable.

I snapped a picture of the Philodendron Pink Princess and got to work.

I’d looked at a few websites, and the shipping would take too damn long, so that was out of the question.

Which meant I’d taken to an online marketplace, a shit ton of searches later, and was being ghosted by sellers.

“Hurry, mommy,” Camden looks up at me, a big smile plastered on his face.

The plant we found is bigger than what Montana looked at.

I hit pay dirt by finding an estate sale that was selling plants along with everything else, and my wallet is thankful Montana didn’t stumble upon it first. The plant alone set me back a few hundred dollars, but my wife would rather this for an anniversary gift versus a piece of jewelry any day of the week.

“When did you two get home?” Montana says, rounding the corner, her belly coming before she does. My wife is nearly six months along and is carrying another boy. I’d have loved to have a spitfire baby girl exactly like her, but I’m not mad about Camden having a brother either.

“A bit ago.” She looks sexy as hell, face clean of makeup, a towel wrapped around her head, and wearing one of my shirts, coupled with what looks like a pair of my pajama pants, too.

“What did you do, Asa. Oh my gosh.” Montana’s hands fly to her mouth, realizing the plant that’s standing in front of Camden.

“You like it, Momma?” Camden asks.

“Happy Anniversary, babe,” I tell her. Next year, we’ll go on a trip away. This year, with the addition being built and Montana being pregnant, we both decided to stay home.

“I love it, thank you so much.” Camden breaks away, going straight for his momma, and I follow after him. Montana goes to bend down to pick him up, and while she can do it. Why should she when I’m here to help her. Our boy wraps his legs around his mom’s, and I move in closer.

“You’re welcome, love you,” I press a kiss against her lips, my hand going to her lower back, and my other hand settles on her protruding belly. A light kick meets the palm of my hand, making his presence known.

“I love you, Asa. Happy Anniversary, your gift will have to wait till later.” I’ll just bet she fucking will.

“I love you, mommy, I love you, daddy,” Camden places one arm around the back of my neck, pulling us into a group hug. I’ve got my family wrapped around me, and this is fucking everything a man could ever hope for.