She looked at him.
“I still might.”
“That doesn't mean I require you to provide them.”
Her lips parted.
He continued.
“I've imagined a little boy following me around the barn.”
“A girl stealing your pie before supper.”
“Three children.”
“Five.”
“One.”
“I've imagined a lot of things.”
His voice softened.
“But every version that mattered had you in it.”
Emily began crying again.
Daniel frowned.
“That was supposed to help.”
“It did.”
“Then why are you crying harder?”
“I don't know.”
He almost smiled.
She laughed through tears.
Daniel lifted one hand.
Stopped.
“May I?”
Emily nodded.
He brushed a tear from her cheek.
Her eyes closed briefly.
His thumb lingered only a second.
Then dropped.
Emily whispered:
“What if you wake up in five years and hate me?”
Daniel frowned.
“For what?”
“For taking this from you.”
“You didn't take anything.”
“I knew there was a possibility.”
“And I know now.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You already married me.”
Daniel understood.
She thought his commitment trapped him.
He could have chosen differently before.
Now honor required him to remain.
He leaned closer.
“Emily.”
She met his eyes.
“If you told me this six months ago, I would have married you.”
She searched his face.
“If you told me yesterday, I would have married you.”
He continued.
“If the preacher had stopped halfway through the ceremony and shouted it to the whole valley, I still would have married you.”
A startled laugh escaped her.
Daniel smiled.
“I might have punched the preacher afterward for shouting private business.”
“Daniel.”
“But I would have married you.”
Her smile faded into something fragile.
“Why?”
He stared.
“Do you really not know?”
Emily shook her head.
Daniel looked toward their joined hands.
“Because you're the first person who makes this ranch feel like somewhere I want to come home to instead of somewhere I’m responsible for keeping alive.”
Emily stopped breathing.
Daniel continued.
“Because when my best cow was sick last winter, you stayed in the barn four hours holding the lantern while I worked.”
“Because you bring my mother flowers even though she pretends she doesn't like flowers.”
“She does like them.”
“I know.”
“Because you argue with me.”
“You hate that.”
“I hate losing.”
Emily smiled faintly.
Daniel squeezed her hand.
“Because you don't treat me like Daniel Mercer who owns eight hundred acres.”
“You treat me like the idiot who forgot his lunch twice last week.”
“Three times.”
He stared.
“Not helping.”
She laughed.
Good.
He continued.
“Because when I think about being old, I don't imagine children standing around my bed.”
“I imagine you complaining that I never learned to put my boots in the right place.”
Her eyes filled again.
Daniel sighed.
“More tears.”
“Good tears.”
“I’m learning there are too many varieties.”
Emily wiped her cheek.
“What if you change your mind?”
“I might change my mind about plenty.”
He thought.
“I might decide I want sheep.”
“You hate sheep.”
“Exactly.”
“People change.”
“Love changes.”
“Marriage changes.”