33. Tyler
THIRTY-THREE
TYLER
“Ooh, yes, let’s cut one of those.”
I’m out in Becca’s garden with her and Ellie. Becca has on a pretty fall dress and boots and is having Ellie help her pick out flowers to take to my parents’ house. I’m half-zoned out while I watch them move among the blooms.
I’d enjoy this garden tour a whole lot more if my reflux wasn’t acting up and if we weren’t about to deal with my mom’s scrutiny.
“Hey, Ty.”
I focus on Becca, who seems to have noticed my dampened mood. “Hmm?”
“What’s your mom’s favorite color?”
“Oh.” I have to think for a minute. “I don’t know. I guess bright stuff?”
She holds up a massive, bright orange flower with densely packed petals. “These are those marigolds I was telling you about.”
“Wow. Pretty.”
She gives me a look like I’m not getting the point. “Do you think she’ll like them?”
“Oh. Sure.”
She shakes her head and chuckles. “You are such a guy.”
I am kind of being a dick, and I really do care about her flowers.
I step carefully through the path she’s constructed through the meadow.
I walk up behind Becca and Ellie, and when Becca straightens to look at the blooms in her hand, I tap her waist to keep from running into her.
She startles at first, then leans back into me. “Oh. Hi.”
My heart is galloping, but now I can’t stop. I rub my hand along her side and she hums. It feels so nice to touch her like this. “Hey. Those look good. What kind are they?” I point to one flower that looks basically like what kids draw for a flower.
“Yeah, I like these. Cosmos. There are a lot of different types, but these are the classics.”
Something occurs to me: she has this whole meadow, but I never see cut flowers in her house. “Why don’t you ever put these inside the house?”
Becca gets a rueful smile. “I don’t know.
I feel like flowers are something you give to other people, to show them you care.
Or I’m just so focused on selling them that I forget to cut some for me.
Then if I have leftovers at markets, I usually just give them to other vendors.
They deserve things to brighten their homes too. ”
My brow wrinkles. “Yeah, but so do you.”
“I guess so,” she says with a shrug.
Ellie pops out of a tall set of flowers then, proudly displaying a flower that she pulled up at the root. I’m afraid Becca will be mad that she uprooted her plant, but she just beams.
“Oh, Ellie, that’s such a pretty one. Your meemaw’s gonna love it.”
In this moment, I decide that Becca deserves all the flowers in the world.
I close my eyes and let out a breath as I shut off my truck in my parents’ driveway.
Maybe this time will be different.
I love my parents. Love my dad. And I love my mom too, but it’s more complicated.
Since CJ left, Mom just can’t let it drop.
Every time I pull up in their driveway, I have to steel myself, hoping maybe it won’t be so bad this time.
Maybe she’ll stop bringing up something that gives me no pleasure—or healing—to remember.
I believe in second chances, and apparently, I also believe in ninety-second chances, because I subject myself to this at least once a month.
A freezing cold hand slips into mine and my shoulders relax.
“We got this,” Becca says. “I’ll charm the shizzin’ pants off ‘em.”
I open my eyes to find Becca’s warm smile and a wink. She’s been making a concerted effort to cuss less because of Ellie, and it results in some pretty funny alternatives. It’s honestly kind of adorable.
“Thank you. I’m just afraid my mom’s going to be rude.”
Becca tosses her head. “I think you underestimate how lovable your wife is.”
We’ve been married two days and already I’m having to subject Becca to my parents’ Sunday dinner madness.
Obviously, my dad loves her, but there’s a bit of a rift between my mom and my dad.
My mom takes her solace in doing things for church and being involved in the community there.
My dad’s community is at the Legion. Their social circles don’t really cross, and I can’t imagine they spend much time together.
That’s not my idea of a good marriage, but they’re still together.
I resigned a long time ago that whatever happens between them isn’t my problem. I’ve had too many problems of my own to waste any more energy on it.
Given Becca’s connection to my dad’s bar of choice and Ellie’s mom, I doubt my mom’s going to be a barrel of laughs today. I don’t think Becca knows just what she’s up against, but I let her confidence ground me now anyway.
The back door pops open as Dad swarms in to get Ellie out of her carseat, immediately launching into their little Papaw-and-Ellie dialect full of jokes and him telling her she’s a little rascal.
Guess it’s showtime.
“Let’s do this thing,” Becca mumbles to me.
We get out of the truck and Becca immediately goes for my mom, spreading her arms. “Diane! Thank you so much for having us!”
She hands my mom the jar of flowers and accepts a lukewarm hug. They both watch my dad goof off with Ellie. Becca looks on adoringly, and my mom looks significantly less pleased.
“Well, come in. Supper will get cold,” my mom says, ushering us toward the house.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been here. I was probably just a kid,” Becca says, stepping inside and taking in her surroundings. “I love this living room color.”
My mom blusters, like she’s surprised Becca is so nice. “Oh. Thank you, dear.”
We sit at the table, and I help Ellie into her booster at the end of the table.
“Ellie did such a good job helping me pick out your flowers, Mrs. Davis.”
“Is that right?” Mom asks with a tight-lipped smile that I know doesn’t bode well.
“Ellie’s been Becca’s farm helper, haven’t you, shug?” I offer, trying to warm up this interaction.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so career-driven,” Mom says, “especially after all those wild years.”
I put my hand on Becca’s thigh under the table. “Mom, I was wild too.”
“Wild, rar,” Ellie growls from her seat. Becca and my dad chuckle, but I’m still facing off with Mom.
“I just don’t want this one to end the way the last one did,” Mom sniffs.
Dad’s fork clatters to his plate, and Becca freezes with a bite of mashed potatoes headed for her mouth.
I watch the moment my wife decides to turn the tables.
She lifts our joined hands from her leg and gently rests them on the table between us.
Her thumb strokes over my knuckles and she swallows before speaking.
“It was hard for all of us when CJ left, and it’s still hard sometimes,” Becca starts. “But that door closing led to what Tyler and I have now.”
Mom sucks her upper teeth before speaking again. “And what is that?”
“Diane,” Dad warns.
Becca doesn’t flinch. “Trust. I’ve got his back and I know he’s got mine.” She squeezes my hand while looking into my eyes. “Loyalty. Respect. Understanding, and meeting each other where we are.”
My jaw tightens as I consider the things that have passed between us this week. Kisses. One hot night on the hood of my car. A wedding. Dancing. And moment after moment where I wanted more but held back so I didn’t do more than what I know my heart can handle.
Becca knows that, and that’s the power of understanding.
Apparently, that’s not enough for my mom.
“Love?” she challenges.
I’m about to snap at her, but Becca doesn’t falter. Her gaze remains on me as she answers. “Of course.”
“You know, Shannon and I were talking after church. You remember, Jim’s wife? Well, she told me that Jim said you two came in about a loan. Is that right?”
I struggle not to cough, but I know that would look obvious right now. “What are you saying?” I demand.
Mom pushes a singular green bean around her plate. “I just think it’s really interesting that none of us knew you were dating, and all of a sudden there’s this rush to get married. What do you need money for, anyway? You say she’s not pregnant, but with her history—”
“She’s right here, Mom,” I say firmly. “Speak to my wife respectfully or we leave.”
Mom purses her lips and wipes around them with her napkin.
Mom and I might be getting heated, but Becca doesn’t miss a beat, laughing. “Wouldn’t that be crazy? If Tyler and I just got married to get a loan? Can you imagine?”
Mom’s face reddens, but after a moment, she laughs along with Becca. It’s not funny at all, but my wife is a genius. I laugh too, in shock that this is working.
Becca really is charming the shit out of my parents. That was perhaps the smoothest save I’ve ever seen when my mom was about to blow the lid off this whole thing.
“That would be crazy,” Dad agrees. “You two tease each other like an old married couple. You don’t have that kind of teasing for nothing.”
Becca squeezes my hand again and smiles over at me. “I’m pretty sure that’s half the fun.”
Ellie falls asleep on the way home from my parents’ house. I glance back at her before I talk.
“Great save back there.”
“Oh, with the loan thing? That was nothing. I was about to fan myself over how you stuck up for me. We were one more ‘my wife’ away from that baseball bat coming out.”
I know she’s making light of the situation, but I’m still mad at my mom.
“She was being ridiculous,” I grumble. “I’m sorry she talked about you like that.”
Becca pops her bubble gum. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Anyway. Thanks for thinking fast.”
“Hey, we gotta sell this thing. We’re a team. We each did our part.”
If Becca and I are a team, then why does everything inside me scream that I might want her as more than a teammate? “Yeah. Pretty good team.”
I stew in the silence while confusing feelings swirl through me. I’m pissed at my mom. I want to protect Becca from my mom and anyone else who might criticize her. I want Becca. I’m scared of putting myself out there again, because what if some part of what my mom said was true?
She pauses. “So, when we get back, do you want to hang out for a little bit? Watch TV maybe? Not sure what normal married . . . teams do.”
I tense, because where do all those feelings leave me? I need more time. I need to be sure. Because if I drag Becca into all this nonsense too soon, it’ll be harder to untangle it as we go.
“I’ll probably put El to bed, and then work on the cottage.”
Becca is quiet for a moment. “You can take a night off.”
“Not if you want it done by the Pumpkin Smash.”
“I can . . . come help you?” she offers.
It’s hard for me to do this. Almost impossible. I want to let her in, but I know myself. I need to process this or I’ll be miserable company anyway.
“I think I need some time to myself, if that’s okay. I kinda need to go finish up something at the garage more.”
“Oh, right. Sure. Of course. Take whatever time you need. Just let me know if you want my help with anything. You know I can do cottage work.”
I look over at her in the glow of the dashboard lights, and her confident facade is gone. Still, she forces a soft smile. I reach over to grab her hand. “I will.”
Her other hand gently settles on the back of mine, sending a chill that raises every hair on my arm. She’s so sweet to me and I know, without a doubt, that I don’t deserve this woman, but I’m going to do my best to show her I care.