15. Tyler
FIFTEEN
TYLER
I pull up to the preschool to find Becca already chatting with some mom, waiting outside at pickup.
I’m using the excuse that I need to give Becca a carseat for Ellie, but the flowers in my hand say otherwise.
The florist was highly entertained by the way my cheeks flamed hot when she helped me pick out a bouquet.
Becca quirks a brow when she sees me heading her way. My stomach is in knots and right now, it seems it would be wiser to haul ass down the street and back to work.
“Hey, Reba,” I say, and my stupid voice has to crack.
Of course, I can’t be smooth. I used to be so fucking smooth, and then I had a daughter and her mother left me for some more exciting life elsewhere.
Now I’m about as rusty at dating as a bike left out in the rain, wheels squeaking and brakes honking.
Becca’s eyes brighten and she looks entertained by my suffering.
This is not surprising, as I’m pretty sure she delights any time I’m uncomfortable.
Like calling me Big Daddy and asking what I’m going to do about it, thinking she’s not asking for trouble.
Good news for her: I’ve been tortured ever since I laid eyes on her in this blue plaid flannel and jeans, her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder.
If she called me Big Daddy right now, it would take every ounce of my self-restraint to keep from wrapping that braid around my fist.
And I can’t think about Becca like that. We’re exploring a long-term solution to both of our problems, and I can’t go muddying the water with sex. It could blow everything up before we even get it off the ground.
The focus is getting more financially stable, not getting laid. Her innocent greeting brings me back down to Earth.
“Hi there,” she says, sauntering to meet me away from the other parents. “Did you not want me to pick Ellie up today?”
“No, I do. I forgot I’d need to get you a car seat for her.”
“Oh. Right. I knew that,” Becca says.
I take off my ballcap to scratch the top of my head and fluff my hair. “And I, uh, got you something.” I extend the flowers her way.
“Oh.” Becca’s voice is tiny. “Thanks.”
“They’re to say sorry. I wasn’t very nice to you yesterday and you don’t deserve that.”
Becca’s head cocks back, but her cheeks go pink. I go on.
“I didn’t say it very well because I was still sorting everything out. I’m really grateful for what we’re doing. You’re being kind and I was an ass. And I’m really sorry for that.”
Becca’s demeanor has completely changed. She worries her lip, the most nervous I’ve ever seen her look. “You were. I feel like I should get the benefit of the doubt.”
“You should. I’m working on it,” I say. “Might not be the only time you have to call me out. And I apologize in advance for that. So . . .” I hold out the flowers again and she takes them. “I want to start fresh. We’re doing this thing, and I’m going to bring my A game. You deserve my best.”
A small smile curves her lips, but she can barely look at me. “Thank you.”
“So, I’m going to tell Ellie about the leak at our apartment now, and that I’ll come out to stay tonight after work.”
Becca’s voice is quiet. “Good, yeah. That’ll work.”
I study her, not sure how to take this more mousy version of Becca. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just weird seeing you be so nice.”
“That’s it?”
Her eyes finally drift up to meet mine before she sighs, letting the bouquet go slack against her thigh. “I don’t need flowers. I need partnership. I’ve been down this road before.”
“What, marrying someone to take out a loan?”
She snorts, but doesn’t get to respond. The school doors fly open and Ellie comes running out at full tilt. Becca’s expression does a 180 when she crouches and opens her arms, Ellie flying into them. “Hi, lil mama!”
“Miss Becca!”
“How was your day?” Becca asks, closing her eyes and squeezing Ellie harder. Some strange feeling swells inside me seeing my daughter and Becca being so unguardedly loving to each other. I think I’ve wanted this for Ellie for a long time, hating myself for every minute I didn’t give her this.
“Good! Your flowers are pretty.” Ellie sniffs Becca’s flowers with an exaggerated “mmm!”
“Thank you. Your daddy gave them to me.”
Ellie smiles up at me. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, shug,” I say, stooping to hug her. “Glad you had a good day. I need to tell you something.”
“What?” she asks.
“We had a water leak at the auto shop, so you and I are going to stay with Miss Becca for a little while.”
Ellie’s eyes round, and I fear this has all been a terrible lapse in judgment. “Really? We’re going to the farm?” Ellie starts jumping up and down, and I shoot Becca a smile over Ellie’s shoulder. What a relief.
“Mr. Davis!” Miss Kristen calls from behind me and I fight the urge to fake my own death on the spot.
I turn. “Yes?”
Miss Kristen’s scathing eye passes over Becca and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You know Ellie has to give me a high five or a handshake before she can go to an authorized adult.” She puts extra emphasis on those last two words.
I force a smile, and I know from mirror checking that my forced smiles look deranged. “Then I need to add Becca to my pickup form.”
“And I can show you my classroom!” Ellie cries.
Becca’s hand finds mine and I give it a squeeze. Her hands are strong for being so small, but still elegant. I’m trying not to let show how much my heart is pounding and my throat is dry at this contact.
Fake. This is fake. We’re starting the process of making people believe our relationship. We can do this. I think her smile is genuine as she looks up at me, and before I know it, my smile isn’t forced anymore.
It’s not forced at all.
And it’s definitely not forced when I dip to kiss Becca’s temple, a move that feels disturbingly right.
It’s agony getting through my work day. I’m crawling out of my skin wanting to know what Becca and Ellie are up to, if Ellie’s being a picky eater.
I realize I forgot to tell Becca what Ellie needs for a nap, and I worry if they figured it out.
I still have plenty of work to do at the shop at five, but I bail to go see how the girls are holding up.
The girls.
It’s been so long since I used that phrase, and the last time I did, it was more a dying plea than a truth.
I wanted CJ to stay, or at least I thought I did.
Things have been a mess since she left, but I can at least say they’re more peaceful.
I don’t have to worry about whether CJ’s going to show up high, or whether she’ll be with it enough to remember to feed Ellie while I’m at work.
If nothing else, Ellie’s well cared for now.
I wanted CJ to be part of my girls, her and Ellie, but no amount of wishing could have stopped the train she was on.
A lot of times now, I pretend she’s dead, because then I’d know she’ll never be back to make it all worse.
That’s the real fear I hold. It would be just like her to show up right after I got Ellie and me back in working order.
I’ve imagined what our life could be. Full-day preschool.
A house of our own with a good yard. Having enough help at the garage.
Getting to come home at a normal hour and maybe having some semblance of a social life.
For now, Becca’s house will have to do. It’s a huge old farmhouse and definitely too big for one person. I’m not surprised she was eager to have guests. She’s a people person, and being all alone in that big house has to be hard for her.
I ring the doorbell and knock, but no one answers. Another truck is in the driveway and I hear the faint strains of music. The door’s unlocked, so I walk in, greeted by a strong smell of something delicious and cheesy.
I follow the sound coming from upstairs, and god, is it sweet.
Ellie’s giggle, Becca’s smoker’s laugh, and another couple of voices can be heard, all feminine, and all happy.
Ellie’s needed this so badly. Even if I braid hair and paint nails, I’ll never be her mom.
I’ll never know what sorts of things a mom might pass on to her daughter.
And nobody up these stairs is her mom either, but I still want this for her.
My chest aches as I hear them carrying on, and the ache turns into a throb when I open the door to the music.
A woman with long, curly brown hair stands there, holding one end of a pink bedsheet while Becca holds the other, wearing a tiara.
They suspend the sheet high over their heads while Ellie stands under the sheet, twirling with her arms outstretched.
Another woman sits on a stripped bed, her graying hair tucked into a bun.
She shouts a “wee!” every time the girls lift the sheet.
I knock gently at the open door and they all startle, except Ellie.
“Oh, hey, Ty,” Becca says, finally noticing me. She tugs the tiara off her head and her cheeks redden.
My stomach squeezes and my heart thumps, which must be entirely unrelated to Becca getting embarrassed and trying to cover up her tiara.
“Tyler, you remember Jake? Well, this is his wife, Darcy, and her Aunt Maggie. Both of them make excellent babysitters and are not degenerates.”
“Well, not too bad,” Maggie says with a goodnatured laugh.
“Darcy here had an extra twin bed and brought it over for Ellie.”
I swallow hard. These people have no reason to be kind to me other than Becca telling them to. That Ellie and I are important to her. “Wow, that’s . . . really nice. Thank you.”
And it is nice, but this is another fear of mine: people entering Ellie’s life, making her love them, and then abandoning her.
“Are we going to live here now, Daddy?” Ellie asks with such hope in her voice. It’s soul-crushing. She wants this life, and I want it for her.
Becca sees my discomfort and steps in. “This’ll be your room whenever you stay over.”
Ellie looks around the room and I take the opportunity to do the same. A smattering of her favorite things decorate the walls. I wonder where Becca got all this stuff, and how much she spent on it.
Darcy checks her watch and wafts air toward her nose. “It smells like our lasagna might be about done. Ellie, do you want to help me make a salad for everybody?”
“Uh huh!” Ellie grabs Darcy’s hand, and Darcy shoots me a touched smile.
“And we gotta make that garlic bread,” Becca adds. “I say we put your daddy on garlic bread duty while I set the table.”