27. He’s My Husband
27 /
he’s my husband
Lila
My grandfather is well enough to get up and walk around a bit. He’s still weak and will require a ton of physical therapy, but I’m happy to help him shuffle to the couch so we can watch some hockey highlights together.
For the first half hour or so, he grumbles about shots not taken, wasted contracts, coaching errors, and any other thing he can conjure up to complain about. It’s kind of funny, actually.
“You’re so cranky, geesh,” I comment on a commercial break. “Also, you have no future in television commentating.”
“That’s hooey,” he argues. “I know a lot about the game. There are plenty of cranky commentators out there.”
“Oh-kay, then, whatever you say, chief. I’m just glad you’re up and alert enough to complain at the television.”
“Yeah, having a heart attack was not on my list of things to do.”
“A reminder to slow down, I suppose.”
“Hogwash,” he says, waving the thought away. “I exercise. I work. I spend time with family. I’m a well-rounded person. It’s my diet that’s shit, but I aim to remedy that.”
“Yes, the red-meat addict goes vegan. It should make for an interesting experiment.”
“Speaking of experiments, how’s your, uh, situation progressing?”
I hold up my left hand, the flawless eternity band glittering on my ring finger.
“How’d that happen?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“You don’t do spur-of-the-moment, Lila Jayne.”
“Well, I made a pros and cons list first. But still, the decision was made in the span of about forty minutes. Which, for me, is pretty spur-of-the-moment.”
“How did it happen?”
“He blurted out marry me , I made a list, then we drove into the city and got married by someone dressed as Dracula.”
“Sounds magical.” He chuckles. “And where is Prince Charming now?”
“We got in an argument over breakfast.”
“He spent the night?”
“He’s my husband.”
Max frowns. It’s as if he hadn’t yet connected this new reality to our situation.
“We came back and went for a swim. I felt okay about things up until he picked a fight with me about my plans to go do my master’s degree in Ohio this fall.”
“You still plan to go?”
“ Yes ,” I snap. “Why is that so hard to believe? People can have kids and still go to school.”
“I get that,” he says in a purposely calm voice. “I was just asking.”
“Sorry. It’s just…I have plans, Grandpa. I’m trying to convince myself those plans are still worth exploring. I don’t want my life to be over just because I have a kid.”
“Well, having kids doesn’t ruin lives,” he says. “Sometimes, it enhances them. Sometimes, it makes them temporarily more stressful. Sometimes, somewhere in between. I’m more concerned about how you and Tripp will work this out.”
“He just has very old-fashioned ideas about marriage and women and parenting. He’s, like, shocked that I still want to go to Ohio, that I’d just pick up and take our baby across the country. He doesn’t believe I can do it on my own.”
“And you shouldn’t have to, because you have a person who has committed to this partnership. I think I’d be a little miffed, too, if my new wife planned to move away with my child without any conversation about it.”
I suppose he’s not wrong. I guess I just thought Tripp would know that my plans hadn’t changed, that I still wanted to pursue my career goals, which include my graduate degree. “Ugh,” I groan. “This is…”
“A roller coaster?”
“A huge clusterfuck,” I say angrily. “Clusterfuck is the word they use these days. Pardon my French.”
He laughs. “I know what a clusterfuck is, Lila. And watch your mouth.”
“I feel like I’ve trapped him. He doesn’t want this. Not any of it. We were holed up in hotel during a snowstorm and we let things go too far. He doesn’t love me.”
“Do you love him?”
“No.” I sigh. “I don’t know. I think I’ve always thought I was in love with him because I put him on this pedestal that no other man could match. He was kind to me when I was young. He paid attention to me. And I was just awestruck by him, you know? I imagined myself taking his name. I wrote Lila Blackburn in my notebook. And every time I saw him from about age sixteen onward, he made my belly flop. It just never faded. It still hasn’t. But is it love? I don’t think so. I think it’s lust and sexual compatibility. Maybe a little bit of friendship.”
“More than enough to start with,” my grandfather says, patting my knee. “You’ll find a way, together.”
“I’m not so sure.” I let my head loll back against the couch. “I mean, it is what it is at this point. We made the decision we made. But I’m ashamed. I’m not looking forward to owning up to a shotgun wedding and an unplanned pregnancy.”
“People make mistakes, honey. It’s what they do with those mistakes that matters. I believe you’ll have everything you have ever wanted for your career, but now you’ll have two other people to share it with.”
I think about this for a long time, even after we stop talking and just focus on SportsCenter. Even after Max’s day nurse comes and helps him back to bed, telling him he needs a vitals check and some medication. Even after I go to my room and cry for about an hour straight.
Lila: Okay. I’ll go on a date with you.
Tripp: Okay to leave Max?
Lila: Nurse is here.
Tripp: I’ll come get you at six thirty
Of course, as the afternoon wears on, I find myself unsure what to wear, and too proud to ask Tripp for suggestions. He’s a casual guy, usually. Is this a casual, fun date, or a fancy date?
A little black dress seems like the best choice. It’s sleeveless and clings to my body in all the right places. I choose a pair of red peep-toe wedges and a long, red coral necklace. It’s simple and can probably pass in almost any atmosphere.
I’m glad for my choice when the doorbell rings. Tripp is in a suit. A bespoke one, from the way it fits his broad shoulders and thick biceps perfectly. It’s dark gray and he wears it with a crisp, white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. Sexy. The no-tie thing is very sexy on him.
“You look beautiful,” he says approvingly, taking in every inch of me in a way that makes a tingle shoot straight down my spine and into my toes.
“You clean up pretty nice, too.”
“Can I say hi to Max?”
I nod and lead him to the library. Max is sitting up, having his dinner, his nurse typing something into her iPad.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Tripp says.
Max smirks. “A bit late for romance, hey?”
“Never too late,” Tripp replies.
“Good answer.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a pin-cushion,” he says, directing his statement to the nurse, who rolls her eyes. “But better. Thank you.”
“Well, I won’t keep her out late.”
“She’s an adult. She can stay out as late as she wants.”
“What he said,” I chime in and point a thumb at Max.
“Okay, okay,” Tripp says, shaking his head. “You ready?”
I nod and take his elbow as he leads me out to the town car waiting outside. As we step out of the library, Max says, “Be good to each other.”
The ride feels long. And awkward. We don’t talk. I put my hand in the middle of the seat and Tripp only hesitates a moment before placing his hand on top of mine. I can’t stop staring at the wedding ring on his finger. My inner teen can’t believe this has finally happened. The me of today can’t believe I let myself get into such a mess. But still, the weight of his hand on mine calms me more than I’d like to admit, and I’m still thinking about the way he put his hands on my belly this morning. About the many, many things we did last night.
The car drops us at one of the casinos, and I cringe.
“Hey, hey,” Tripp says, helping me from the car. “I’d never ask you on a date and then take you to a casino. Trust me.”
We walk through the casino and get in an elevator that takes us to the top floor. When the door opens, we’re facing an expansive restaurant with floor-to-ceiling views of the city below.
“This looks swanky,” I say.
“I heard it was good. And I haven’t seen the city from this view, so…”
“It’s really beautiful.”
Tripp and I are led to a table by the windows. His face lights up as he takes in the panorama of lights and movement. It is a pretty scene, a cityscape of hustle and bustle. It sort of makes me wish for Toronto.
“How does this compare to Anaheim?” I ask, just to fill the space between us.
“Orange County is weird.” He frowns slightly. “There are parts of it that are really pretty and parts that bleed into LA County that are so bad it looks literally post apocalyptic. I didn’t love it.”
“Do you love it here?”
“No. I haven’t been here long enough to love it. And to be honest, I never planned to make it my home, so I’m not investing a lot in the city.”
“I’ve heard that the part of southeastern Ohio where my master’s program will be is really beautiful. I’ve heard it’s all hills and trees and green in the summertime. Isolated.”
“You’ve always lived in the city. Will you have trouble with the isolation?”
I laugh a little. “Maybe. I’ve heard the nearest Target is forty-five miles away. Real shopping is ninety minutes away. But I’m not there to shop, so I should be fine.”
Tripp is frowning again. He sits back in his seat and pins me with those blue eyes, arms folded across his broad chest. “So, it’s still I and not we , hey? You’re really just planning to run off to grad school like nothing has changed, aren’t you?”
“Why would I ask you to move to Ohio for me? It’s only a two-year program. You can join me after I get a job.”
“But it’s still me following you to wherever you feel like going, right? I just trot along behind you with the diaper bag over my arm. We get to follow your whims and desires and I just, what, suck it up? I get no say?”
“No one asked you to come, Tripp.”
“Well, I asked you to marry me, and you did. Last night. I thought that made us a team.”
“It made us legally wed under the eyes of Dracula, Tripp. We got married because my grandfather wished it so. I’m not asking you for anything. Nothing at all. We can annul if it makes you happier.”
“What was the point, then? Just marry me to make Max happy? Keep you in the will so you can have the Crush someday? But really, we just go off and live separate lives and pretend we didn’t just stand in a chapel and say I do ?”
“You told me not to walk away from the Crush—I didn’t know it was going to be mine. I didn’t expect that. I was—am—ready to make my own way in the business. You asked me to marry you, and you told me you would be there to help me. You never said the tradeoff was me giving up my dreams.”
We’re interrupted by our server, who looks a little embarrassed to be walking in on what must look like a very intense conversation. Tripp orders a beer, and I order a seltzer with lime. We pick a random appetizer and send the poor woman off, likely very much to her relief.
“Look, Tripp, I’m giving you an out. I’m not holding you to any standard or expectation or anything. You can go take your millions and lay on a beach if you want. It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything at all.”
“And we live apart? You just take off with my kid and I never see it again? Why bother getting married at all?”
“The point of this marriage wasn’t for romance or love, and you know it. It wasn’t meant to trap anyone and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be traditional or normal, because our situation isn’t traditional or normal. I have goals and I intend to achieve them. I need this master’s program so I can make other connections in the business, not the ones made by my family. If and when I become the owner of the Crush, I don’t want a single person saying I don’t deserve to be there.”
“Who would say that?”
“Everyone, Tripp,” I say tiredly. “Everyone. Because I’m Max Terry’s granddaughter and Niles Terry’s daughter. Because I grew up on a trust fund. Because I’m young. Because I’m a woman in a man’s sport. Pick a reason, because I’ve already heard them all.”
Tripp sits back in his chair and puts his hand over his mouth. I can’t tell if the message finally got through or if he’s stopping himself from saying something stupider than usual. I hope it’s the former. Either way, the conversation is causing me anxiety and it needs to stop. We can’t do this here.
When the server comes back with our drinks and appetizer, we each order a meal and then sit quietly, looking out at the city lights view, both taking silent stock of this total clusterfuck pile of shit I landed us in.