Chapter 32

Tag's nerves frayed with every passing moment where Opal read the things in his notebook. He'd taken her back to the farmhouse, and they'd separated for a few hours. Well, kind of. Opal had brought her lime-green chair to the edge of the barn and sat in it to watch him finish his afternoon work with the horses.

He'd gone back to his house to shower, and Opal had been sitting on his front porch in the green chair. So he hadn't even gone to the farmhouse to pick her up properly. She didn't care, and honestly, Tag didn't either.

Now, they sat at a pizza parlor, with Opal in blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with the word "cozy" on it, his notebook in front of her.

"It's just?—"

"A reminder to call the twins," she said, lightly touching the page. "Thoughts from sermons. Things about the horses, your life, my life." She turned the page, and Tag wanted to rip the notebook away from her.

"If I write it down, it doesn't get to fester inside me," he said quietly. "It's nothing bad. The thoughts are super raw. I scribble them down, so they don't infect me for too long."

Opal said nothing, and Tag knew where she was in the timeline: the part where Tag had started struggling with her building a house, starting a non-profit clinic, and being worthy to be her boyfriend.

"This is agony for me," he said, his voice dark and dangerous. He didn't try to sweeten it up, and he had no interest in ordering dessert pizza. So he waved away the waitress while Opal continued to study his innermost demons.

Opal closed the notebook and pushed it away from her. She wore coolness in her eyes that made Tag wonder if his apologies and gifts and declarations of love would ever be enough.

"Did you finish it?" he asked.

"No." She reached for her glass of soda and took the last, watery sip. "I didn't need to."

"Opal—"

"Taggart, I don't want this to be a thing between us, so I just need to talk for a minute." She held up one hand, her dark eyes blazing at him. Blazing with life, with compassion, with something else he couldn't quite name. "Then, I will give you all the time you need to talk to me too. I want to know what you think. I need to know. I can't make adjustments if you keep everything to yourself, if you spill all your secrets to ink and paper."

"Sometimes, it helps," he said. "And then those things don't need to be said out loud. Sometimes, it's not you that needs to adjust, but me."

Opal reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers, and there came that smile that put him more at ease. "Tag, there are a couple of things I can't change about myself, even if I wanted to. Maybe three. Do you want to know what they are?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"One, I love babies, and I want to be a mother more than anything."

Tag allowed a small smile to come to his face. "That doesn't need to change, honeybear."

"Two, I have a lot of money. I'd like to spend it on pumpkin seeds, and inflatable furniture, and horses for you and me, because I'm going to learn to ride one day if it's the last thing I do."

Tag dropped his chin and laughed. When he raised his eyes to Opal's again, he saw the seriousness there. "I know my money bothers you," she said quietly. "I don't know how to change that, Taggart. I would give up every penny just to be with you."

No better words had ever been spoken, and Tag squeezed her hands. "I would never ask you to do that."

"You're on equal ground with me," she said, her tone increasing in urgency. "Money is just money. It doesn't buy me what I want most—love and family. Only you can give me those things, baby, and I only want them with you."

Tag's emotions surged, making his nose hot and his eyes burn. "You're a good woman, Opal."

"I know you'll still struggle with it," she said, and she nodded to the notebook. "You can tell your notebook, but I'm going to ask you to please tell me too. It might not change how things go, but we should be able to face things like this together, not separately. You don't have to do anything by yourself anymore."

"Except get up before dawn in the winter and make sure your coffee is nice and hot."

Opal grinned at him. "Definitely that."

He leaned across the table, half-standing in the booth, and touched his lips to hers. "I love you, Opal."

"Mm, I love you too, Tag."

He settled back in his seat, feeling warm and full and calm. "What's the third thing?" he asked.

"I just said it." Opal picked up the last piece of Alfredo Hawaiian pizza, her favorite. "I'm in love with you, and I don't know how to stop doing that."

"I don't want you to stop doing that."

"Then you have to talk to me," she said. "About everything." She looked at him with a measure of challenge in her expression, and Tag wanted to wipe it away completely.

"Okay," he said. "But you might regret requesting that."

"I doubt it." She took a bite of the pizza, a moan coming from her mouth. "Now, eating this last piece of pizza; I'll probably regret that."

Tag picked up his notebook and tucked it away in its safe spot. No, he hadn't wanted to show it to her. He'd fought with himself all afternoon about it. Part of him had wanted to burn it, lie to her and tell her he'd lost it, something—anything—to get out of showing it to her.

And then, in the still, small way the Lord spoke to him, Tag had been gently reminded that honesty was the best policy. That he could trust Opal. That God would be with him in all things, even something as simple as letting Opal see the writings in the notebook.

So he'd brought it. He'd shown it to her.

"I have a couple of things," he said.

Opal nodded, nothing playful in her gaze now. "I'd love to hear them."

"I'm worried about living on Mike and Gerty's land," he said. "What if I want my own farm someday? Like the way Cord did."

"Then we start looking for a farm for us," she said simply.

"What if I feel really guilty about using your money to buy said farm?"

"We'll work through it together," Opal said.

Tag ducked his cowboy-hatted head again. "Opal, honey, what if you can't have babies?"

She sat quietly for a moment, until Tag dared to look up at her. "I trust God," she said. "And He knows I want babies more than anything. If we can't have any of our own, I know He'll provide a way for me to have them somehow."

Tag nodded, her faith and testimony beautiful. "Okay."

"Why are you worried about living near Mike and Gerty?"

"I don't know," Tag said, looking over to the door as it opened. "It's just been gnawing at me ever since you bought the acreage and started building that house."

"You looked at the plans. You chose."

"I know." He shook his head and focused on her again. "It's not anything I can articulate. That's why it goes in the notebook."

"You like working for them, don't you?"

"Yes," he said. "It's the best job I've ever had."

"And I'm helping with West," she said. "And they'll have more kids. And we will, and the house is a half-mile from theirs. We'll have our own space."

"So you're just assuming I'll move in with you." He wasn't asking, and he found Opal's double-blink quite cute.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Good." Tag slid to the end of the bench and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "Because I can't wait to live there with you." He tossed some money on the table and extended his hand toward her. She took it, and he pulled her right into his chest. "And we can start making those babies," he whispered right in her ear.

Opal giggled and pushed against his chest. "Take me for a walk, cowboy."

"You got it, honeybear." He left the pizza parlor with Opal's hand in his, and that wasn't a bad way to be. Not a bad way at all. He wasn't sure how to articulate everything in his head to another person, especially if it was that other person making him stew and wonder and question things. Especially if it was Opal and maybe he didn't agree with her.

"I'll talk to you," he promised. "Okay? It might be really hard for me in the beginning, because I'm not used to that. I don't just say everything I'm thinking about."

"I don't need you to say everything you're thinking about," Opal said. Tag faced into the breeze and let it wash over his face. Beside him, Opal hunkered down into her sweatshirt. "Wow, it's chilly when the sun goes down still."

"Not quite summer yet," he said.

"I wouldn't mind hearing what you're thinking about," she said. "But I don't expect every thought you have to come out of your mouth. That actually sounds exhausting."

"To you and me both," he said dryly.

"But if it's something with me that's bothering you—like what we spend money on or me trying to take on a huge foundation that's way beyond what I really want my life to be, then yes. You absolutely need to tell me."

"What if you don't like what I think?"

"Tag, either you want to be on equal ground with me, or you want to say only what you think I want to hear. You can't have it both ways."

"Okay," he said. "Then I want to know how much that dress you wore on Valentine's Day was."

Opal didn't answer for a moment, and Tag looked over to her. "I know it's a lot," he said. "You can even ballpark it if you don't have the exact number."

"Tag, you won't like it."

"So either you have to tell me things I want to know too—the things I ask you about as I'm talking and telling you what you ask me to tell you—or you can hide things from me, keep secrets, and drive wedges between us. You don't get to have it both ways either, Opal."

"Okay," Opal said in a somewhat sassy voice. "It was ninety-one thousand dollars for the dress and the shipping to get it to me on time."

Tag stopped walking, because his limbs did not know how to move with that information. He stared at her. "Dear Lord, you're not joking."

Opal shook her head, no coy smile in sight.

"And see, I want to pull out my notebook and start scribbling," he said.

"About what?" she asked. "What would you write down?" She moved out of the way for a man walking his dog, but Tag couldn't get anything to work inside his body. His brain had turned into a blender, and all the things he knew and understood were suddenly shredded and mixed together into one big pile of slush.

"Taggart."

He blinked and came back to reality. He glanced left and right down the simple street in downtown Ivory Peaks. They'd been headed toward the park, and he managed to take a step in that direction without the ground shattering and swallowing him whole. "I'd be writing down that number," he said. "Trying to make sense of it. How much it is, what it could buy, all of it."

"It bought me an amazing dress, for an amazing night with an amazing cowboy," she said. "It was worth every penny."

"I just—I have no idea what that much money looks like," he said. "It's mind-boggling for me."

"So you'd be writing down the money."

"Yes," he said. "And then probably some thoughts about how unworthy I am to be on your arm in my forty-dollar jeans and years-old cowboy hat. And then I'd try to pull myself back up again by saying something about how I have value too, even though I'm not rich. Stuff like that."

They reached the end of the block, and Tag stepped out into the crosswalk to get over to the park. "You want to sit over here for a minute?"

"I guess," she said. "You know what this park needs? Inflatable couches. They're so much more comfortable than wooden benches."

Tag laughed, but his mind still lingered on the number ninety-one thousand. They found a bench not too much further down the path, and Tag crowded in close to Opal after she sat down.

"Tag, baby," she said. "You realize when we get married, you'll be rich too, right?"

"No," he said. "No way. I know you Hammonds, and you'll have something in place to protect that wealth."

"Mm, I don't think so," Opal said quietly. "None of my siblings or cousins have done that."

"What?" He swung his attention to her, completely disbelieving. "That can't be true."

She gave him a soft, somewhat sad smile. "More musings for your notebook."

"I—" Tag didn't know what to say. After a full minute, he found the right thing. "Honestly, I wish there would be some protections. A prenup or something. Because I don't want the responsibility of that much money. It's just…too much for me." He peered at her, even going so far as the take her chin in his hand. "You know that, right, Opal? I'm a really simple man."

"Not any simpler than Cord," she said. "Or Mike, or Easton."

He scoffed as he released her and looked away. "Please. Your brothers are mega-rich and super-smart." He practically spat the words as he added, "So are you."

"And so are you," she said just as poisonously.

"Minus the mega-rich part," he said. "And the scientific degrees and grant work, and the business degrees and military service." He shook his head. "Honestly, Mike should've kicked me to the curb months ago."

"Nah." Opal leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "He knows how much you mean to me. He knows how wonderful you are. How much Gerty trusts and relies on you. How good of a person you are. How?—"

"Okay," Tag said, not needing the compliments or accolades. "I got it." He fumed silently for several beats of his heart, and then he finally started to calm down.

Opal waited through all of that, and then she waited some more. "I love you, Taggart Crow," she whispered. "Please tell me we can go back to the farm and cuddle on my new chair and watch the stars."

He got to his feet and pulled her up too. "Let's get back to the farm to watch the stars, honey-love." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm working on it."

"You're doing great," she said.

He took her back to his truck and opened her door for her. She got in, but he didn't back up and close the door. He crowded in close, his hand drifting across her thighs to her waist. "Opal, there's three things I can't really change about myself, even if I wanted to. Do you want to know what they are?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Tag grinned at her, and he leaned in close as he said, "One, I love you. Two, I love you, and three…."

He pressed his lips to hers and stole a kiss before he whispered, "I love you," for the third time.