"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure how else to put this other than to say I'm not feeling my best," Grace said.
"What do you mean? You're gorgeous, and I don't want to hear another self-deprecating word out of your mouth!"
"Yeah, yeah," Grace said, brushing her friend off.
It wasn't that she was feeling ugly, per se. It was that she was feeling entirely useless. She was hardly rocking a six-pack before she became pregnant, and now that she'd lost the baby, she was still carrying extra weight on her. She wasn't gigantic, but not exactly confident, either—for many reasons. She didn't feel worthy of anything good happening in her life. She wasn't able to keep her baby safe, couldn't keep Aaron happy, and couldn't even keep her old job. The idea of welcoming someone new into her complicated web of emotional baggage seemed like the worst idea in the world.
"You're not ready, and I can respect that," Maisie said, offering her friend a squeeze on the hand.
"Can you?" Grace snorted.
"Yes, of course! But you have to meet Trent anyway, so you may as well come and get it over with—and if you happen to find him completely gorgeous then, well…"
Maisie wasn't wrong. Trent was gorgeous.
The man was tall. His skin had a warm, golden tan from working out in the sun, and he had shaved his black hair off so that it was growing in as stubble. He had hazel eyes and clear muscle definition. She hated to admit that taking one look at him, she imagined him lifting her into the air and carrying her as though she were as light as a cotton ball.
His most appealing, yet unappealing quality, was his nose. Across the bridge was an old, cracked scar that created a permanent dent. She didn't know what it was from, obviously, as she had just met the man, but she knew she found the mark rugged and appealing and wouldn't be able to stop staring it.
"Hey, Maisie, how ya doin'?" he said, his voice sounding like heaven as he came upon the girls.
"Good!" Maisie said cheerfully before gesturing both hands toward Grace. "This is my friend Grace."
"Hey, nice to meet ya," he said, giving her a quick glance before turning back to Maisie.
"How's the ranch treatin' you?" she asked.
"Not good, actually," he said, sounding rushed.
"Oh no, what's up?" Maisie asked. Her tone was sympathetic, but it was clear she was excited for Grace to meet the man, and her excitement caused her to interrupt Trent before he could properly respond. "More bee problems?" she continued, then turned to Grace and said, "He's been trying to get these bees to stay on the property for like two months now but things keep going wrong. Someone cut the queen's legs off and she died."
"What, was she one of Henry the Eighth's queens?" Grace asked, finding herself completely hilarious. "What did she do to deserve such foul treatment?"
Trent smiled politely but quickly turned his attention back to Maisie, making Grace feel even more unwanted. She had somehow become a third wheel to two people who weren't even a couple.
"You name it, it's gone wrong," he said, explaining, "Some of our drip irrigations for the greenhouse have been chewed up by gophers, we've got a coyote who decided to have a big feast last night. Any guesses as to what was on the menu?"
Maisie winced. "I'm guessing chicken wings?"
"Uh-huh," he said, unimpressed. "So, there's a bloody massacre. Our new events coordinator has two weddings booked for the same Saturday in August, and, oh yeah, Bex has a cold and the nanny is calling me every five minutes about it."
"Aww, poor thing! Do you want me to go over there?" Maisie offered, as sweet as ever.
"What? No," he said quickly. "That's really sweet, but you have your friend here. Besides, Esme is capable, she just gets jittery about germs."
"She chose the wrong career, huh?" Grace offered.
To her delight, Trent snorted with amusement. "Yeah, no kidding," he mused. "Look, I think I'm gonna take off early; is that okay?"
"Hey, you're the boss, not me. I am but a lowly visitor," Maisie said playfully.
"I think I'm gonna handle as much of this," he said, gesturing his hands around the farm, "mess as I can and then head home to see Bex. That does mean I can't do your tour though; you okay with that?"
"Oh, I think we'll manage to survive the loss," Grace chimed in, hoping she sounded flirtatious and charming and not like the rudest person on the face of the planet.
Trent looked at her and made a curious expression, likely unsure how to take her "Okay, good," he smiled. "Once again, I'm sorry."
With that, Trent was off, leaving them to the care of a girl named Donna Duke for their riding for the rest of the afternoon. Turning to Maisie when he was out of sight, Grace laughed and said, "That's your big charmer?"
"Shush!" Maisie giggled. "He's having an off day, but you'll just have to trust me that yes, he is very charming, very likable, and very—”
"Handsome," Grace said. "I'll have to give you that one, at least."
5
Trent
The ranch had been running Trent wild. He had been so busy fixing all of the problems there that he had been getting his nanny to stay full-time all week with Bex.
That was okay. It's what she was there for, but it always stung him to feel like he wasn't being a present father, even if his distractions were what was keeping a roof over Bex's head.
It also reminded him, as always, that he was alone. If Lily were still around, she would be taking care of Bex and Trent wouldn't have to stress out over staying late at work or checking in with nannies. He would know that Bex was home with his mother, safe, sound, and taken care of.
He had missed Bex so much throughout the week that when Bill invited him to come out to dinner that evening, he almost said no. But Bex was on a playdate with some of his little friends, and the nanny was already at Trent's house, so he reasoned why not spoil himself with a giant steak?
"Daddy's gonna be back in a couple of hours," he said, leaning down to kiss Bex on the top of the head before he left.
Bex was in the living room with two other toddlers he liked to play with. "I come too?" he asked.
Trent shook his head, but his heart ached a little. "Not tonight, bud. But I'm all yours tomorrow, okay? We'll head out to the pool and hang out for the day, okay?"
"Pickles," Bex said, and Trent laughed.
"Yes, and we'll have all the pickles you can ever imagine."
"Bread and butter, dill, garlic," his son began listing off. He'd had a pickle obsession the last couple of months after trying one at a barbecue. The pickle he'd eaten had been about the size of Bex's arm, and he hadn't been able to stop talking about them since.
Trent leaned down to high-five his boy and agreed, "We'll have every kind of pickle under the sun, deal?"
"Okay," Bex agreed, wandering away from his father.
"Love you, buddy," he said and received a half-hearted response from his son. Bex was too enamored with a set of plastic blocks to give his old man a proper goodbye.