“For the farm,” she said. “All of it.” She watched him as he absorbed her appreciation and apology. “I didn’t know you’d overheard me and my father.”
His eyes came to hers then. “I did.” He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I’ve never wanted to push you somewhere you didn’t want to go, Beth. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she said. “I’m the one who asked you to marry me.”
“I said yes,” Trey said. “I don’t regret anything I’ve done, Beth. Anything we’ve done. Iwantto be here with you.”
Beth smiled at him. “I want all of that too.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “All right. Might as well get this over with.” He got out of the truck and took Beth’s hand when they met in front of the house.
“Don’t worry,” Beth said, taking the first step with Trey at her side. “They like you more than me right now.”
“I doubt that.”
“Yes, well, I have a lot of work to do to be a better person,” she said. “I knew I was failing; I just didn’t know how spectacularly.”
He paused when they got to the top of the steps. “I do not think you’re failing at much, Beth.”
“That’s because you’re blinded by my beauty,” she quipped, unable to truly laugh. “Thank you, though. I really don’t want to fail you or TJ.” Her lungs quivered as she took a breath.
“You aren’t,” he said. “Come on now. Let’s just go inside and have a good time.”
She nodded, and this time, she let him lead the way through the front door and into the kitchen. Once again, everyone watched them, and then TJ jumped out of his chair. “They’re back,” he said, running toward Trey and Beth.
Trey laughed as he caught her son up into his arms and held him against his chest. Everyone else had gotten up in those few seconds, and they came over to hug Beth and welcome Trey back to the farmhouse.
Extreme gratitude and relief filled her, quickly morphing into love for her family and their ability to forgive each other.
Once things settled down, Trey sat beside her, his plate loaded with food. Conversations happened around them, and he reached for the barbecue sauce, his hand freezing in midair.
“Where did this come from?” he asked, glancing around. “I dropped all of this in the living room.”
Beth looked at the bottle of barbecue sauce that had not been there when she’d left to go find Trey, then around the table at everyone.
“I ordered it on that food delivery app,” Walter said. “They delivered it a few minutes ago.” He forked another bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth and grinned at Trey. “Can’t have barbecue sauce be the thing that ruins your whole day, right?”
Trey blinked, his eyes wide. He slid his fingers around the bottle and squeezed as if trying to throttle it. Then he started laughing, the sound loud and wonderful as it filled the empty space in the farmhouse until there was none left at all.
The others joined in, and Beth basked in the new brand of happiness that existed at her house, with all of these people she loved.
She met Sally’s eyes, and her sister sobered and nodded, just once, before turning to her nine-year-old as she asked a question.
Beth still needed to do better; she knew that. She would, because her sister was right. She wasn’t drowning anymore, and that all had to do with a man who’d said yes when she’d asked him to marry her.
“So,” Hugh said. “When can we come watch your horse run?”
“Tomorrow,” Trey said. “We’ve got a mock race tomorrow morning, actually. Could be a good Christmas Eve morning activity.” He looked hopefully around the table, and Beth’s nerves twittered though he clearly wanted her family to come to the track and watch Somebody’s Lady run.
Beth knew that what Trey wanted, he usually got, and she wished she had even half of his confidence in the horse they’d entered in the Sweetheart Classic.
Chapter Seventeen
Ginny Winters bent her head and lifted the diamond earring to her earlobe. The stem went through easily, and she secured the plastic rubber on the back before straightening her head. Behind her, on the bed, Sarge perked up, his eyes moving to the open doorway of her bedroom.
Her heartbeat tumbled through her chest, landing somewhere in her stomach while she pretended none of that had happened. If she didn’t think too hard about that October night where all of the alarms except the one at her mother’s mansion in the center of the property had filled the night with sirens and sound, she was fine.
In quiet moments, however, Ginny could really get lost inside the labyrinth of her thoughts. She’d always wanted to write a novel, as she enjoyed an active imagination. Sometimes, though, that imagination had her imagining dark, hooded figures entering her house while she wasn’t there and waiting in closets for her return.