Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
It’s a nonsensical question that’s already been answered—a question designed to prime the pump for my upcoming big surprise. Yes, Iris loved riding Trixie today, a fact I already know because she praised the horse exuberantly and repeatedly throughout our ride today. Not surprisingly, since when I made today’s arrangements a month ago and I asked the woman who owned the ranch to give Iris her very best horse for an expert rider, she replied, “I’ll give her Trixie. She’s our best horse, hands down.”
Iris pops a grape into her mouth, seemingly unfazed by the fact that my question has already been answered throughout the day. “I loved Trixie,” she gushes. “I’ve never ridden a more beautiful horse in my life. Whenever we come back here to ride, I’m always going to request her.”
She’s cued me up perfectly. In fact, I couldn’t have scripted a better segue. “There’s no need for you to request Trixie when we come back,” I say, as a shit-eating grin spreads, involuntarily, across my face. “Because Trixie’s all yours, babe.” When Iris stares at me blankly, I add, “Happy birthday, baby!” Iris still looks like the computer inside her head is buffering, so I add, “You’re Trixie’s proud owner. She’ll be stabled here, and you can ride her any time you want.”
“No, Roman.”
I laugh. “Yes, Iris.”
Understanding dawns on her, as her frantic, overwhelmed expression makes clear. Shrieking with glee, she hurls herself at me across the picnic blanket and tackles me so hard, I fall onto my back with the Birthday Girl on top of me.
“Thank you, thank you!” Iris gasps out, peppering my face with manic kisses. “You’re so generous! I love you so much! Thank youuuu!”
Belly laughing, I guide Iris to sit alongside me, and when I’ve got her face in my palms, and she seems capable of processing more good news, I move on to revealing the next birthday surprise. “I also bought Cheerio and another gelding named Pepper, so we can ride as a family, any time we want.”
“What?” Iris shrieks. “No, Roman.”
“Yes, Iris.”
She assaults me again with another round of hugs and furious kisses and thank-yous. Little does she know, however, I’m just getting started.
“Your daddy got you a horse, Mavvy!” Iris shouts at Maverick. “Your very own horse named Pepper!”
I provide details about Pepper, reminding Iris and Maverick he’s the gentle, black horse Mav fed baby carrots to when we first arrived today, and my son exuberantly leaps up, jumps around like he’s on a pogo stick, and begs to go find Pepper to give him a hug right now.
“In a bit,” I say with a chuckle, as Maverick wriggles and jiggles around the perimeter of the blanket.
“Please, please, Daddy! Please.”
“After we finish our birthday picnic, buddy.” And after I’ve secured myself a fiancée.
“I can’t believe you did all that,” Iris gasps out. “You’re insane, Roman. Absolutely insane, in the best possible way.”
I shrug. “Twenty-seven is a big birthday.”
Iris snorts. “No, it’s not. It’s totally insignificant.”
“Not to me. This is our first birthday together. That’s a really big deal to me.”
Iris blushes. “Thank you.”
“Which is why I got you another birthday present, on top of the three horses.”
Iris waves her palms in surrender. “No more. I mean it. You have to stop now.”
“I already did it, though. No turning back.”
Iris shakes her head. “You’ve already done way too much.”
I bite back a smile. “If you really mean that, then I’m in a bit of a pickle, since this next thing isn’t something I can return.” I flash her a playful frown. “I mean, if you’re sure I’ve already done too much, then I suppose I could donate the next present to a charity without ever showing it to you . . .”
Iris swats at my shoulder and giggles. “Don’t you dare. Fine. I admit it: You’ve called my bluff. I’m dying to see it.”
It’s another perfect segue. I swear, she’s the perfect straight man for this particular comedy routine. “You’ve actually already seen it,” I offer mysteriously. “In fact, you’ve been looking at it all day long.” My comment begets another blank stare from Iris, so I motion dramatically to our surroundings. “Your final birthday present is everything you see. The whole ranch—all fifty acres and every horse, structure, and piece of equipment on it. Happy birthday, baby.”
Iris looks like the hard drive in her mind is physically glitching. Shutting down. Experiencing a system-wide, catastrophic meltdown. I repeat the gist of my prior comment, and also assure Iris every word of it is true—and, finally, Iris falls into my waiting arms and sobs like a baby against my heaving chest.
“Why is Irish crying?” Maverick asks with concern. “Why doesn’t your present make her happy?”
“She is happy,” I assure him. “Sometimes, people cry when they’re really, really happy.” As I say the words, tears prick my eyes, effectively prove my point.