Until Trevor

I do want them; deep down there is nothing I want more then to be a mother. But I can’t do it; I can’t have children, and then leave them behind. “I told you before, Trevor, that if that was a deal breaker for you, then you should get out before feelings were involved.”



“Tell me that you never want kids.”



‘I…” I can’t say it; the words just won’t come out.



“We are going to make beautiful babies, and you are going to be an awesome mom,” he says, kissing the top of my head. My stomach is in knots, my palms sweating. I want to tell him so badly that I don’t want kids, but I can’t. When I think about having a little boy, with big brown eyes and long dark lashes, who looks just like Trevor, I can’t tell him that I don’t want that. I lay my head back on his shoulder, clearing my mind of everything except the alcohol coursing through my system. When we finally pull up to the house, I go straight to the bathroom, change into pajamas, and get into bed. When I’m almost asleep, Trevor gets into bed, tucking me under him like he always does. I feel him kiss the top of my head, and hear him tell me he loves me, right before I fall asleep.



“Tell me again why I have to wear a blindfold?” I ask Trevor, who is carrying me somewhere. I had gotten up this morning, alone in the house. At first, I thought he was mad about last night and decided to cut his losses, but then I wandered into the kitchen and there was a pot of coffee waiting for me, along with a note telling me that he had gone for a run. I was on my second cup of coffee when he came into the house, his white t-shirt plastered to his body with sweat. He was pulling it off as he walked into the kitchen, without realizing that I was there, unaware that he was putting on a show.



I watched as he wiped his head, face, and then his chest without looking up. His baggy sweats hung so low on his hips that if you pulled down slightly, you would get the full experience of Trevor Mayson. When he lifted his head and his eyes caught mine, he smirked. Walking towards me, he kissed my forehead, and went to the laundry room, where I could hear him banging around, most likely destroying some innocent piece of clothing. The other day, he called and asked me if he could wash towels with other laundry. I told him yes, thinking he would know to still separate the dark and lights. Oh, was I wrong. He washed a red towel with the white laundry, turning all the white t-shirts he wears to work a nice light pink.



“Morning,” he said, walking back into the kitchen.



“Morning,” I replied, looking at his abs as he moved around, pulling things from the cupboards. I had no idea what kind of work went into looking like he does, but seriously, I loved looking at him.



“Stop looking at me like that, you little pervert,” he said, laughing and making my face heat.



“Stop walking around half naked,” I mumbled into my coffee cup, still looking over the rim at his body.



“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I like that look.” He kissed my head. “We need to leave in about an hour; be ready to go,” he told me, leaning against the counter to eat a bowl of cereal.



I glared at him, but agreed with an “okay.” I grabbed a banana off the counter. Peeling it, I slid it into my mouth, looking at him, watching his eyes darken, and then I took a big bite, and made sure that my teeth made a loud chomping sound.



“Ouch!” he laughed, covering himself with his hand. I smirked at him over my shoulder, walking out of the kitchen.



“Yes, you need the blindfold,” he tells me, bringing me back to the present. He’s holding me closer. I know we’re outside; I can smell flowers and feel the sun beating down on me. “I’m going to stand you up now,” he says, lowering me to the ground. I hold onto his shoulders, and as my feet touch the ground, my stomach fills with butterflies, and my pulse kicks up. “This is our first stop,” he tells me, taking off my blindfold. I look around seeing that we’re in the cemetery where my father is buried. My stomach drops when I look down at my dad’s grave.



“Why are we here?” I ask, looking at Trevor, who is now looking nervous.



“I wanted to meet him. You don’t talk to me about him very often, and I know that he was important to you.”



I nod in agreement. “He was my best friend,” I tell him, looking at my dad’s headstone. “No matter what happened, I knew that I could talk to him about anything, and he would listen. Or if I had a problem, he would help me find a solution.”



“He sounds like he was a good man,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.



“He was the best; he would have liked you,” I reply, and tears start falling from my eyes.



“I would have liked him too.” He holds my face in his hands, kissing each eye. “He’s one of the reasons why you are so beautiful on the inside, along with the outside. He’s one of the reasons I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”



I sob, my head crashing into his chest; he holds me for a long time, just standing outside with the breeze blowing, and the sun beating down on us. When I finally calm down, he asks me to go wait in the truck, and says that he would be with me in a few minutes. I kneel down on the ground in front of my dad’s headstone and send him a silent message telling him that I am happy, and that I love and miss him. Then I stand up, kiss Trevor, and walk back to the truck to wait for him.



I watch him from the passenger seat as he too kneels down in front of Dad’s headstone. I can see his lips moving, but can’t make out the words. But then, he reaches out, pats the top of the headstone, stands up, and makes his way to the driver’s side of the truck.



Once back in the truck, he takes the blindfold out of his pocket, wrapping it back over my eyes. “One more stop,” he says. I feel the truck reverse, and we drive for a good while. When he parks the truck, he drags me out on his side, carrying me again, but this time, just a short ways. When he stops walking, he sets me on the ground, leads me by my hand, and helps me sit; I can tell it’s a swing I’m sitting on. When he removes the blindfold, he’s kneeling in front of me. I look around to see where we are.



“Why are we here?” I tilt my head back, looking up at the tree I was sitting under. The swing is one I used to swing on all the time when I was young. The old rope ties up high in the branches of the old giant weeping willow; the outer branches of the tree creates its own private escape for whoever was swinging.



“I talked to your mom, and she told me that the two of them would spend time here when they were dating. She also told me that this is where your dad asked her to marry him.” His eyes are warm when he’s talking about my parents.



“It is; this was my dad’s favorite spot,” I tell him, remembering coming here when I was little. “I used to make my dad push me on this swing for hours. Sometimes he would bring a picnic; once, he even had a tea party here with me and dressed up.” I laugh, and so does Trevor.



When he looks over my face, I see so much love in his eyes that my palms start to sweat and I hold my breath. “Your mom told me that this was a special place for you, a spot full of love and happiness. That’s why I wanted to bring you here.”



“Oh,” I say, watching Trevor lean forward and pull something out of his pocket, before returning to his kneeling position.



“You are my best friend. I can laugh with you—and fight with you—but I always know that I will be with you. You are the person I want to start a family with, grow old with, make memories with, dream with, cry with, and live this life with. Will you marry me?” He holds the ring out to me between two fingers. I cover my mouth, looking down at the beautiful ring with an emerald-cut stone my eyes shoot up to his. “This is the part where you say, ‘I can’t imagine living my life without you’…and say yes.” He actually looks nervous.



“Yes,” I struggle to get out with my mouth still covered. He takes the hand that’s covering my mouth, brings it to his, and kisses my fingers, before sliding the ring on.



“Perfect,” he says, kissing my finger before pulling me down to him.



“This has to be the best proposal in the history of proposals,” I tell him, laughing.



“I figured I fucked up the first one pretty badly; I needed to make up for that.”



“The first proposal was you,” I tell him, pulling my face away from his neck so I can look at him. “You’re very bossy and demanding; that’s one of the reasons I love you.”



“You’re stuck with me for life.”



“I know; maybe I’m crazy, but that makes me very happy.” I laugh when he starts tickling me.



“Let’s go home crazy girl.”



“Let’s go home and celebrate,” I clarify.



“Oh, we’re definitely going to celebrate.” He picks me up, tosses me over his shoulder, and walks us back up to the truck.



On the ride home, I ask him what he was saying when he was alone for those few minutes at my dad’s grave. He tells me that he was asking Dad’s permission to ask me to marry him. I didn’t think I could fall any more in love with Trevor, but apparently, I was very wrong. My heart swells with love for my fiancé—wow…my fiancé—and when we got home, we celebrated all night long.



Chapter 9



Trevor



The night after the “bar-b-que”—, which was really a surprise engagement party—I flip on the bedside lamp when I hear the phone ring. “Yeah?” I answer, when I see Cash’s number on the display.



“Meet me at the barn in twenty,” he says, before he hangs up. I look down at the phone in my hand, wondering what the hell is going on. Since we were kids, if one of us has a problem, we meet at the old barn on my parents’ property. I look down at Liz, who is sleeping soundly beside me. Her face is tucked into the crook of my arm, her breathing even, and her hand with her engagement ring laying across my abs.



“Baby,” I whisper, running my fingers down her smooth cheek.



“Go away,” she mumbles, smacking at my hand. I chuckle, running my hand down her cheek again, making her swat at me, before rolling away from me. “Baby,” I say again, this time near her ear, making her groan and hide her head under the pillow. “I need to leave; I’ll be back,” I say. Her head comes out from under the pillow, and she looks at the clock, then me.



“It’s three in the morning.” Her voice is soft, her eyes sleepy and concerned.



“Cash called, and he needs me.”



“Is he okay?” She sits up, her white tank top hiding nothing. “Should I come with you?” she asks, pulling her hair out of her face, looking around the room, adorably confused.



“No. Go back to sleep.”



“Are you sure?” she asks, as I tuck her back into bed.



“I’m sure,” I say, kissing her before I pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I walk back over to my side of the bed, where Liz has cuddled down into the blankets, and kiss her forehead, telling her I love her.



“Lolly,” I call into the living room. Lolly comes down the hallway wagging her tail, thinking that it’s time for breakfast. “Come lay down.” I point to the floor near the door, knowing that if I’m gone, she will stay and look after my girl. I walk into the living room, grab my boots and pulling them on, grab my keys from the bowl Liz had placed near the door, lock up the house behind me, and head out to my truck.