Page 18 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

There’s a row of boots lined up beneath a long wooden bench that gets smaller as you go on down the line, ending in the cutest pair of toddler boots you’ve ever seen.

With a hand on the dip of her waist, I lead Olivia into the kitchen wher e Griffin is hovering over the plate of bacon, ready to steal a strip.

Mama smacks his hand away with her spatula. “You better keep your grubby little hands off the food until the others get here, Griffin Hayes, or so help me —”

Her sentence trails off as we enter the room, her eyes landing on where I’m still touching Olivia. I’m sure we make a pretty picture, walking in here like a happy family, and something about that thought makes my chest tighten.

“Wilder Hayes, you could’ve warned me we’d be having company!” Mama chides, pointing her spatula at me this time. “Welcome to the chaos, Olivia. Sorry you’re not seeing us at our best this morning.”

Olivia beams. “Thanks for having me.”

“Hey, Little Sully.” Griffin waves.

“Come on in, then. The pancakes are almost done. Wilder, do you mind getting the high chair out of the closet for Emmy Lou?” Mama motions toward the dining room where we eat most of our family meals at a long wooden table with two chairs on either end and bench seats on the sides that have seen us through our best and worst days.

“What can I do to help?” Olivia asks, releasing my hand as she steps up to the kitchen island, sandwiching herself between my brothers.

“I could use some help taking the food to the table, if you wouldn’t mind.” Mama gestures to the platters loaded down with eggs, bacon, toast, and pastries strewn across the counter.

“Not at all.”

Olivia reaches for a plate of croissants and a pitcher of sweet tea. I place my hand on her lower back, and her breath hitches slightly.

“I’ll show you the way,” I murmur.

I don’t miss the sidelong glances from my brothers, who assess us with each interaction. We head through the archway into the din ing room, and she places the platter on the plaid runner in the middle of the table.

I sit Emmy on the ground, but she instantly protests, flapping her hands to be picked up again. “Just a second, Angel. I need to get your high chair set up.”

Emmy’s bottom lip juts out, and tears start to build along her lashes.

Olivia doesn’t miss a beat, crouching down at her side. “Can I pick you up, sweetie?”

Emmy hesitates for a long moment, looking between Olivia and me. When I nod, Emmy walks into Olivia’s arms. It’s then that I notice how similar they are—both blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauties. Both have changed my life in irrevocable ways.

Olivia sinks onto one of the benches and perches Emmy on her lap, turning her to face the table. She removes the hair bands from Emmy’s ponytails and meticulously works to put them back together. When she’s done, Emmy has two perfectly symmetrical pigtails, and she didn’t even flinch.

“How the hell did you do that?” I ask, struck dumb by the entire scene.

She shrugs. “It’s a girl thing. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Griffin and Jaxon enter the dining room with the rest of the food, placing it in a row down the center of the table. They’re locked in a heated debate about changing up the chicken feed with Mama trailing close behind.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mama says. “Wow, Emmy girl! Look at you. Did Miss Olivia fix your hair?”

Emmy nods, leaning back against Olivia’s chest with her sippy cup pressed to her lips. Emmy blinks slowly, her eyelids growing heavy. I reach out to pluck her from Olivia’s lap, but Emmy shakes her head, turning to the side so she can burrow deeper. “It’s fine. I don’t mind holding her. ”

“You need to eat.” I give her a look that communicates exactly why she needs to eat, and she rolls her eyes.

“I can eat one-handed.”

Before I can argue, Dad comes in and takes his seat at the head of the table as Mama makes the rounds, preparing each place setting.

“I see Emmy’s made herself right at home,” Mama says.

“Let’s eat!” Dad says, his commanding voice brooking no argument.

I take my spot beside Olivia, running a hand over Emmy’s back. Griffin and Jaxon sit across the table with Mama at the end closest to Dad.

“To good food and good women,” Dad says, raising a glass of sweet tea in salute, lingering on Mama with undying affection in his gaze. Once upon a time, I wanted what they had, and maybe I even had it—for a time.

We pass around the various platters of food, and I don’t miss that Olivia’s plate is half empty.

She passes me the dish of scrambled eggs, and I scoop an extra helping onto her plate.

When I do the same with the ham, she huffs out an exasperated breath, and when I attempt to add an extra croissant, she slaps my hand away.

“Seriously, Wilder?” Olivia says. “I don’t need nor want this much food.”

The entire table is watching the interaction with something like curiosity. Emmy is drifting off, so I keep my voice low when I say, “Humor me, Cupcake.”

She rolls her eyes, reaching for her glass of orange juice, but she can’t quite reach it with Emmy’s body sandwiched between her and the table. I smirk, waiting for her to ask for help. Instead, she gives up and plucks a piece of bacon off her plate.

Clearly, she’s got a stubborn streak I’m gonna have to lear n to work around, but I’m nothing if not persistent. I move the glass within reach.

She purses her lips and mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Domineering asshole.”

“So, what brings you here this morning, Olivia?” Mama asks, cradling a mug of steaming hot coffee. “Something to do with the birthday party, I presume?”

Olivia takes a napkin off the table and dabs at her mouth. With Emmy now fast asleep, I extricate her from Olivia’s lap. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back. I’m just going to put this angel to bed.”

An awkward silence descends over the room until Jaxon saves the day. “So, you make those amazing cupcakes at the diner, right?”

I don’t stick around long enough to hear her answer, trailing down the hallway. Mama had a special room made up just for Emmy when we moved back to town, and it’s been a blessing on days like today. After tucking her into bed, I walk back out, leaving the door cracked.

Laughter drifts out of the dining room, and my nerves lessen slightly at the sound of Liv’s voice.

She’s telling them about plans for Emmy’s cowgirl-themed birthday.

I’m grateful for the momentary distraction, but it’s about to be short-lived.

We have news to share, and I can’t hold it in any longer.

I step up behind Liv, placing my hands on her shoulders. She turns and smiles at me, her gorgeous eyes alight with something akin to affection.

“It’s time,” I murmur, squeezing gently.

She lifts a hand and grasps mine, holding onto me for support—whether it’s for her nerves or mine, I can't tell.

Clearing my throat, I say, “We have something important to tell y’all.”

All eyes are on me as I search for the right words, coming up empty .

Rescuing me from the awkward moment while also robbing me of my breath, Liv blurts out the words, “I’m pregnant.”

Griffin’s fork clatters to the plate, the only sound in an otherwise silent room.

“How?” The question comes from Jaxon, a look of incredulity on his face.

Griffin barks out a laugh. “Well, you see, Jaxy, when two people?—”

“Fuck you, Griff. That's not what I meant.”

Liv covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Olivia and I met on the plane back from Denver. The flight was diverted, and we ended up spending some time together.”

“You sure know how to distract yourself from that fear of flying,” Griffin quips.

“Don’t be a dick,” Jaxon says. “Congratulations, Wild Man.”

Without saying a word, Mama rounds the table and pulls me in for a crushing hug. “Another grandbaby to spoil! I can hardly believe it.” She cradles my face between her hands, her eyes filling with tears. “Are you happy?”

Liv twists a napkin between her fingers, visibly holding back tears of her own.

Am I happy? About the baby, absolutely. About Liv being the mother of my child? Without question, I couldn’t ask for a better person to be by my side through this.

But am I happy? That question is far too complicated for a one-word answer. I haven’t felt genuine happiness since my wife took her last breath, and the persistent guilt makes it damn near impossible to move on. So, I do the only thing I can do to keep them from seeing the truth: I lie.

“Yeah, Mama. I’m happy. ”

Olivia

He’s lying. There’s something in his eyes—something he’s refusing to give voice to—and my self-doubt threatens to overwhelm me as I consider whether I’m the reason for his deceit. Does he not want this anymore? Or does he not want this with me ?

I swallow around the lump in my throat, biting back the sting that’s building behind my eyes.

It feels eerily like a rejection, and I wasn’t prepared for the possibility that I’d have to face that with Wilder, not after everything he’s said and done to reassure me. Did I read too much into his words?

I don’t have time to reach the bottom of my self-pity spiral as I’m pulled into a tight hug by Evie. “Welcome to the family, sweet girl. How have you been feeling? Any symptoms?”

Wilder laughs, a deep, throaty sound that sends a jolt of longing through me. “We had to make a pit stop in a parking lot on the way here.”

“Wilder! I thought we could at least keep that between us, you traitor!”

Evie laughs. “I remember those days. I had terrible morning sickness with this one,” she says, jerking her head toward Jaxon.

“I still get morning sickness with him.” Griffin jabs Jaxon in the stomach with his elbow.