31. Tyler
THIRTY-ONE
TYLER
The beginning of the rest of my life tastes like bubble gum and yellow cake with white icing.
It sounds like the cheers and hollering of our family and friends and her laugh against my lips.
It smells like her perfume and hairspray.
It looks like little rainbows shining everywhere from the stones on her ring finger.
And it feels like I finally got what I came for.
Because everywhere Becca Martin goes, she brings the party, but this time, I’m invited.
She leans into me, nestles her head against my chest, settles against my front while I hold her from behind, fighting the impossible battle to keep her warm.
Jake and Darcy distracted us with some extra time spent at the courthouse getting pictures, and when we got back to Becca’s farm, there was already a party waiting for us.
Darcy’s aunt and uncle got started setting some stuff up while we were gone, but the rest of the crew helped them put on the finishing touches.
I know they did it because they love her, and it has nothing to do with me. But I feel this strange pressure in my chest seeing other people love her. Jealousy? Pride? Happiness?
Lights are strung over Becca’s yard, and there’s a fire pit going off to the side.
Not one, but two sheet cakes are decimated.
A few other friends come out, people who didn’t go to the ceremony.
Becca’s white boots have been danced into a brown, muddy mess, but her smile tells me she couldn’t care less.
Ellie stays up until she can barely stand, adoring being adored.
Becca makes sure Ellie gets to experience everybody singing “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” before she goes to bed, swearing it’s a necessary core memory.
Surrounded by our family and friends, we hold her between us and she sings the half made-up words she knows.
I glance over at the beam of sunshine who is now my wife and wonder how the hell I got this lucky.
All that swaying has Ellie swaying on her feet and she’s fast asleep on my shoulder before I get all the way upstairs to her room.
I don’t bother getting her out of her party dress, just tucking her in as comfortably as possible.
I make sure the long-range baby monitor we put in there is on and give her one last glance before I leave her alone.
This plan will work. It has to. Then maybe Ellie and I can have a better future.
Because that’s the whole point, right? Getting Becca and me to a more profitable life?
Back outside, I’m greeted by the smell of woodsmoke and freshly-turned earth from everybody dancing in the yard.
Becca looks more worried, though, dashing around and cleaning up party remnants while scattering goodbyes to those taking off.
While she’s talking to Jake and Darcy, I step up behind her and run my hand over her hip.
She finally caved to wearing my flannel jacket over her dress about an hour ago, even though she said it ruins her look.
I think she looks perfect: cozy, spiffed up, danced out, wild, and at least in title, mine.
“What are you doing? You shouldn’t have to clean up your own wedding.”
She tries to smile and shrugs. “I don’t want to attract raccoons the night before one of my festivals.”
“I’ll get it. You go mingle. You’re better at that.”
She glances nervously at what’s left of the party. “Can you just help me instead?”
I survey our surroundings. It’s pretty messy, and she’s right.
We need to get this stuff out to the dumpster.
I know it’s probably rude to ask your wedding guests to clean up, but Becca needs help, and if they really care about her, they’ll help.
I tell Dustin to spread the word that we need help, and with his bullhorn of a mouth, he bellows out instructions to those remaining.
He and Becca are only half-siblings, but they certainly share the mega-mouth title.
Many hands make light work, and it’s not long before we’re loading the last garbage bag into the back of Dusty’s truck for him to drop in the dumpster on the way out.
Soft music still plays, almost inaudible because we had to turn it down so Ellie could sleep.
But I want this moment with Becca. I put my hand out. “Dance with me?”
She hesitates, but with a tired smile, she takes my hand. We struggle to figure out how to hold each other, but it ends up being a hug of sorts with her hand on my chest and my hand covering hers.
She looks at her hand, fingers spreading. Her voice is more hoarse than usual, but she doesn’t smell like cigarettes at all. She probably just burned it out from screaming song lyrics and laughing. The sign of a good time. “You really did do great with my nails.”
“Thank you. It’s my other calling in life.”
She rests her head against my shoulder with an exhausted sigh. “Maybe when we’re old you’ll paint miniatures or something.”
When we’re old.
Like we’ll grow old together.
Like this is real.
I let myself feel it, like all of this is true, and it feels like being tucked away in a warm bed, like the greatest comfort you can ask for in life.
I kiss her temple and she hums.
I’m just about to tell her that we need to get her sleepy butt to bed when she sighs.
“Thanks for today. It felt real.”
I can’t breathe. A double-edged sword cuts through me with equal measures of hope and despair. Hope that maybe sometime, it could be real. Despair that it isn’t real.
But I’m afraid that if it’s real, I’ll let Ellie down, that I can’t handle being in a relationship with Becca and being a good dad.
“Yeah. It did.”
Becca’s warmth withdraws from me and her lips brush my cheek.
“I have to go take care of something. Can you cover for me while I Irish goodbye my own wedding?”
I’m startled by her suddenly pulling away. “The song’s not over.”
She grimaces. “Sorry.”
She disappears into the dark, the white of her dress fading toward the barn.