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"Morning," she replies, which is more than I expected.

I shut the door and look at Lainey. "You look beautiful, too, for the record. Panicked, but beautiful."

"Don't." She points a finger at me, though there's no real heat behind it. "Don't you dare charm me right now, Jagger Cartwright."

"Just being honest, sweetheart." I reach out and take Charlie from her, settling my daughter against my chest. "Did you tell your mama our plan?" I ask.

"What plan?" Her mama's eyes narrow.

"Jagger…" Lainey mutters.

"Going to the main house for breakfast to tell my family." I shift Charlie higher against my shoulder. Her fingers curl into the collar of my shirt, and I kiss her head again.

"More like Jagger's plan. I thought we should do it this afternoon," Lainey interjects.

"There's no time like the present, ladies. Better to walk in on our terms than have half the ranch beat us there with the story already twisted six different ways by the time we show up."

Lainey exhales a long breath through her nose and looks between us.

Her mama rises. "Let me get my coat."

"Mama!" Lainey argues.

"I agree. No sense dragging this out," she states.

I reach for Lainey's jacket off the hook and hand it to her. "Here."

She reluctantly takes it.

I glance at the table and pick up Charlie's pink hat. I put it on her, then swaddle her in a pink blanket. I leave extra material to shield her face from the wind when we step outside.

Lainey's mama grabs the diaper bag and marches out into the cold.

"After you." I grin, motioning at the door.

Lainey grumbles, "Fine. But if this goes badly, I'm blaming you publicly and often."

"Deal." I secure Charlie so she won't freeze, and we all walk toward the main house. The sky has turned a pale pink and gold over the eastern pasture in a way that would be a lot more romantic if I weren't half braced for the chaos waiting on the other side of my parents' door.

Lainey's quiet beside me, chewing her lip.

I reach over without thinking and take her free hand in mine, lacing our fingers together.

She tosses me a nervous glance.

I rub my thumb over her hand, assuring, "It'll be fine. Stop worrying."

She scoffs. "Easy for you to say."

I chuckle, but it's more to get my own nerves out.

We get closer, and the smell of bacon and eggs seeps toward us. The noise inside hits before I push the kitchen door open. Dishes clatter, somebody laughs too loud, and the radio plays country music at a low range.

We step inside.

Her mama straightens her back, lifting her chin.

Lainey goes rigid beside me.