14. Izzy
IZZY
The Christmas tree is decorated and is lighting up the otherwise dark house. The credits are rolling on Christmas Vacation , and Ryker is holding me like he doesn't ever want to let me go. He and I are sitting on one couch, and Brock is lying on the other one.
He stretches and turns to look at us. "I'm hungry."
I laugh. "Of course you are. You know we just ate a few hours ago.”
He rubs his stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
I roll my eyes at my child because he could eat all day every day, and I’m not sure where it all goes. “How about some cookies and milk?"
He sits up, rubbing his stomach. "Oh, that sounds good."
Ryker gets up. “I'll get it."
“What? No," I start, but Ryker isn't having it. He leans down, kisses my cheek, and walks into the kitchen.
Brock sits up and rests his elbows on his knees. "It's good seeing you happy, Mom."
I open my mouth and then close it and shrug. “It feels good to be happy." I clear my throat. "What about you? Are you okay with all this?"
I gesture to the kitchen where Ryker is piling cookies on a plate.
Brock nods. "I'm good with it. I like him."
"You know you always come first."
Brock rolls his eyes. "Trust me, Mom, I know you love me. I've never doubted it."
Ryker comes in and sets a tray on the coffee table. The three of us sit on the floor.
Brock picks up a cookie and stuffs it in his mouth. He mumbles around it, "We haven't had a carpet picnic in a long time."
I laugh and pick one up too. "You're right. We haven't."
“What's a carpet picnic?" Ryker asks.
I point around us. "You're doing it now. Stick with us, Ryker. We can show you the fun things in life."
Ryker stares at me. “Promise?"
I reach across the table and hold his hand. “Promise."
When I look back to my son, he's eaten two more cookies.
"So did you get to see Ollie last night when you were there at your dad's?"
The apartment complex that Allen moved to is the same one that Ollie lives in.
“Yeah, we shot hoops."
“Oh, that's good."
Ryker looks between Brock and me. "By the way, I got four tickets to the Jasper Rangers basketball game next weekend. You want to bring Ollie with us?"
Brock circles his hand to indicate the three of us. "We're all going?"
I nod my head. “Yeah, we're all going."
“Woo hoo!" Brock hollers. He downs his glass of milk. “I gotta go call Ollie.”
I'm about to remind him to say thanks when he hollers as he runs up the stairs, “Thank you, Ryker."
We're both laughing at Brock's antics, and I shake my head at Ryker. “Thank you."
He smiles, still holding my hand. “What are you thanking me for now?"
I wave my hand toward the ceiling. “My son is smiling more. I'm smiling. You just make things better."
He kisses my hand, and I scoot to sit close to him. “But we need to talk."
He tenses, but I don't stop. “We want you here, but you don't have to keep spending money on us. We don't need tickets, or trips, or gifts. Just you being here is enough."
He takes a deep breath. “Fuck, I love you so much."
I smile. “I love you, too, but you’re not going to fix this with confessions of love. I really want you to keep your money. We just want to be with you."
He nods, still smiling. “I got it.”
He pulls me closer, and I laugh. "I'm starting to remember why I haven't had any carpet picnics in a while. I'm not sure I'll be able to get up."
He hugs me. “I'll help you."
I point to the tree. “We did good, didn't we?"
He points at me. “You've always had a knack for these things." He brushes hair off my face. “You make things beautiful, Izz."
The stomping on the ceiling and then the stairs lets us know Brock is coming back.
Ryker kisses me. “I'm going to clean up. Be right back."
I am about to get up when he picks me up off the floor and deposits me on the couch like I don't weigh anything.
“Sit. I know you didn't get much rest last night," he whispers to me.
As he walks out, Brock tells Ryker, "Ollie is excited. His mom said he can go."
Ryker fist-bumps him. “Good deal.”
Brock comes and sits next to me. “Mom, there's something I need to tell you."
Ryker walks back in, sees us talking, grabs the glasses, and then walks back into the kitchen.
"What is it?" I ask Brock.
He's looking down at his hands, and I touch his shoulder. "Son, what is it? You can tell me anything."
He nods. “I know, Mom, but well... Dad kept saying that he wants you back." He lifts his eyes to look at me. “He said you two are getting back together."
There's no way in hell . That's what I want to say, but I remind myself this is his dad we’re talking about. “Honey, I'm sorry if he got your hopes up. Your dad and I are not getting back together."
He rubs his hands together. "Mom, he cheated on you. I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for that."
I sigh because I know that even though he's been through a lot, he's a good kid, and he's going to be a good man.
I brush my hand through Brock's hair. “I know it's hard, son. You've been through so much. I’m not defending your dad, because you should never cheat. But also, our marriage had been over for a while. We were not good together. We should have ended it before that.” I sigh.
I never know what is too much to say, so I just go with my gut.
“I'm here for you if you ever need to talk. "
He nods. “I know." He reaches out to hug me. “I love you, Mom."
I hold him tightly. “I love you, too."
He pulls away, and as he walks back upstairs, he hollers goodnight to Ryker and me.
"Night, Brock," Ryker calls.
“Night, son.”
Ryker comes to stand in the doorway of the living room and leans against the wall. He heard. I can tell by the look on his face that he heard what Brock said.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “So he wants you back."
I stand up. “Uh, yeah, he said that on the phone the other day, but I never thought he'd tell Brock or that he meant it."
He shakes his head. “I'm not giving you up."
I walk over to him and put my hands at his waist. “Are you sure about this?"
He rears back as if I sucker-punched him. “Why would you ask me that?"
I shrug. “Because we're a package deal."
He nods. “You think I don't know that?"
I shrug again. “And I have baggage. An ex-husband and?—"
He puts his hand under my chin and lifts my head. “You're mine, Izzy."
I go to my tiptoes and lean into him. “I'm yours."
He leans down and kisses me. He holds me possessively, and I wrap my arms around him. I want to be with him, but I just hope he doesn't regret his choices.