29. Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Kyla
My mother’s house looked exactly the same as it did when I left.
It was completely different than Rhett’s cabin. His was welcoming and homey, blending in with the background of the ranch. Even with the modern interior, Rhett’s cabin had become more home to me than . . . this. And I grew up here.
It was a large brick house, the largest on the street. The red brick walls clashed with the xeriscaping in front. The front door was black—my father had said it was to distinguish us—and stood out against the white pillars and shutters that surrounded the front door and windows. A few palm trees looked extremely out of place amongst all the rocks. Her Lexus sat in the driveway—freshly washed and shined, I was sure. Just looking at it made me want to run away again.
I met David in this house.
He first kissed me in the backyard during a party.
He proposed to me during Christmas dinner.
So many things were tied to him just looking at it.
“Hey.” Rhett’s voice pulled me back to him. He grasped my hand and brought it to his lips. “You ready?”
“No,” I grumbled.
Slinking his arm around my waist he pulled me to him, giving me a kiss. A deep one, not quick and simple, one that drew all my thoughts from my head, the same way it had in the dressing room earlier. Once he broke the kiss, he raised his chin to kiss my forehead.
“A kiss for luck,” he muttered against my skin.
“I’m supposed to kiss you for luck.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It helps us both. So”—he dipped his chin—“you ready?”
I looked at my husband, honestly happy he hadn’t bothered to shave. I wanted him to be him, not polished and fake to appease my mother. He wore his signature hat and boots, complete with Wrangler jeans. I was shocked he changed his shirt from the blue button down to a nice, tailored black one. He still tucked it in to show off his belt buckle, and the first few buttons were left undone, showing the deep red shirt underneath. His hair was messy under the hat, but honestly perfect. His hands were rough as they traced my jawline.
My mother was going to have a hay day when she saw him.
“We should probably ring the doorbell,” he muttered .
Taking one last sigh I turned, my hand firm in his as I reached forward and rang the doorbell.
I don’t want to do this . . .
I do not want to do this . . .
The front door flew open, and my mother stood there. Her dark hair was shorter than I remember, and her gray eyes seared into mine. She wore a simple white tank top and black flowy capris. Her sandals told me she was trying to be comfortable yet classy at the same time. She forced a smile, her eyes roaming to Rhett beside me, before clearing her throat, turning back to me.
“Hi, Mom,” I said softly.
“Kyla,” she mused. “It’s so . . . wonderful . . . to see you, my baby.”
I tightened my lips, keeping down a retort. Instead, I turned to Rhett. “This is my husband, Rhett Hartwell.”
Rhett smiled, like the gentleman he was, and raised his hand to her, giving her his best smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Richards. Kyla has told me all about you.”
I let out a soft sigh, watching as my mother eyed his hand, slowly reaching hers out to shake. “It’s a pleasure . . . I’m sure,” she replied. “Come in. Sandra made Kyla’s favorite for dinner.”
“Mom,” I mumbled following her into the foyer. “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did. It’s been too long, Kyla.” She waved her arm as she walked into the sitting room right off from the foyer.
“This place makes my parent’s place look small,” Rhett bent down and whispered in my ear .
“Trust me.” I turned to him, our lips only centimeters apart. “I’d rather be on the ranch. I didn’t even think my mom knew what my favorite dinner was.” I gave him a small kiss in the corner of his mouth.
Rhett gave a small “mmm” as we made our way into the sitting room with my mother. She came back from the kitchen, carrying two wine glasses, handing one to me and keeping the other for herself. She glanced at Rhett.
“I’m sorry I don’t keep beer in the house.” She sneered, a tight smile forming on her lips.
Rhett gave a small laugh, looking down at his feet before meeting my mother’s gaze. “That’s alright, ma’am. I’m more than happy to share the glass with Kyla.” With his left hand he reached smoothly to take the glass from me. My thoughts instantly went to Nicholas Cage taking the glass from Abigail in National Treasure— all too smooth.
My mother gawked at him as he took a sip, and her jaw dropped. I smiled at my husband, reaching out to grab my glass from him, stopping myself from kissing him right there. I loved the bold move he took, even if it lost him points in my mother’s eyes.
“I know where glasses and wine are, I’ll get you a drink since my mother forgot her manners. Red or white?” I asked Rhett.
“Oh no, no. Sandra!” My mother turned. “Can we get a glass of merlot for Rhett?” Turning back to Rhett, she gave him the same tight smile. “So.” She gave a breathy sigh as she sat on the sofa, motioning for us to sit across from her. “You own a ranch?”
“My family does, but yes. I will own a portion of it,” Rhett answered, taking the glass from Sandra once she arrived .
“A portion? David made it seem like you owned the entire acreage.”
Rhett tensed. “My family does,” he repeated.
She hummed, that tight smile still there. I took a deep breath, placing my right hand on Rhett’s knee and using my left to chug the wine that was left in my glass.
“Kyla,” she snipped as she watched me place the empty glass on the table in between us.
“Well, I’d love some more.” I turned to look at Rhett, whose eyes were wide, a single eyebrow cocked. “Oh, what?” I smiled at him. “You’ve seen me chug more than that.”
“Kyla.” My mother’s voice was stern.
“When will dinner be done?” I asked, my voice shaky.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was nervous to be here, sure, but the anxiety that was creeping up seemed completely out of place. I squeezed Rhett’s knee, hoping he would get the signal that there was something going on.
I thought back to the time he had seen me in any kind of spiral.
Our second night together, when I told him I wasn’t that kind of girl, the anxiety was creeping in then. But he was respectful, asked for a final kiss and then slept on the couch.
The day David got back. I had begun to pack in a panic, thinking I needed to leave in order for him to not have David breathing down his back. He proposed that night.
After we got married when I began to list off all the reasons this wouldn’t work, he stopped the panic before it truly set in.
The Fourth of July he asked me to come with him.
The dance floor. He asked me to stay .
I inhaled and looked over at my husband. I wasn’t sure if he had intentionally done it, but each time he was able to pull the anxiety away. So, why should now be any different?
Next to him I felt stronger, braver . . . calmer. Next to him I felt loved.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Richards,” Rhett began, his eyes heavy on me. “You said you made Kyla’s favorite?”
“Chicken alfredo, with garlic bread and Italian salad,” she answered. “How does your husband not know that? David knew.”
“David claims to know a lot of things.” I took a deep breath, looking back at my mother. The anxiety towards her was still there—not as strong—but there. I just wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her know. “I’m sure he told you he wants to buy the ranch, and it was just a coincidence I was there?”
She laughed, reminding me of Emily Gilmore in the early years of Gilmore Girls. The Emily Gilmore who judged every ounce of her daughter’s being. I half-expected her to say, “ Now Kyla, that’s absurd,” but her laugh just faded.
“Hold on.” Rhett held out a palm in front of us, stopping my mother before she could say anything. “You still talk to your daughter’s ex?”
“Well of course, I did introduce them after all. David is a decent person, he just wants what’s best for Kyla.”
“And what’s best is keeping her from her friend and making her think she’s not worth anything? That’s what’s best for her?” Rhett raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you think is best for your daughter, I think you really need to evaluate your relationship with her and her ex. Decide who is more important. ”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hartwell, but what business of yours is it to speak about my relationship with my daughter?’
“You mean my wife?” Rhett shifted on the sofa. “Kyla deserves only the best and it’s my mission in life to give it to her. Ever since the day I first met her I’ve wanted nothing more than to see her be happy and shine. She was open and honest with me from the very beginning, so I know more than you think. It’s entirely my business since it’s my job to make sure she’s satisfied in life.”
“Satisfied?” She chuckled, her eyes landing on Rhett as they widened. “You don’t know the kind of satisfaction she would have had if she married David.”
“Mom,” I whispered, but I went unnoticed.
“She would have been set for her entire life,” she spat, her glare deepening at Rhett. “She would never have to set foot inside a public school again. And now she’s married— if you really are married—to a cowboy who rides bulls for a living.”
“We’re married, and I don’t ride bulls. I’m not an idiot. And I’ll have you know, with me, she doesn’t need to lift a finger ever again. But I know she would want to find a teaching job, she wants to work and I’m not going to stop her from doing that.”
“Mom,” I whispered again, feeling the tension in the room build and build. The anxiety was beginning to fade, and, to my surprise, it was being replaced with anger.
“David told me he doesn’t believe the marriage is real, and after meeting you—seeing you together—I don’t think it is either.” She bore into him, judging every piece of him.
“You’ve seen us for all of fifteen minutes. I can go get the fucking piece of paper to show you—”
“I don’t need that fake printed paper to prove anything. You are someone Kyla never would have been with, not in a million years. She’s never even ridden a horse.”
“Yes, I have,” I muttered, trying to think back on my time just days ago on Buckle.
“I met Kyla in Flagstaff in February. I fell in love with her the moment she turned me down, and then proceeded to figure me out just by looking at me. She knocked me off my feet, so much so that I knew I couldn’t leave the state without her, and to my surprise, she felt the same. We were married April 24 th —best fucking day of my life. You don’t need to believe it in order for it to be real.” Rhett leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his stare fixated on my mother.
“If you think for a moment I believe this charade . . .” My mother began to shake her head forcefully. “I know my daughter, you don’t. And if you think—”
“Shut up, Mother!” I finally screamed, both of them turning their gaze to me at the exact same moment. “Don’t claim to know me. You don’t know me. You may have been a helicopter parent, but you didn’t think to watch me through the day. You just made sure I was right where you wanted me. You never bothered to figure out what was going on with my life. You thought David was good for me? David?! Do you have any idea what he would tell me? I know you do because dad would say the same things to you. I would watch you crumble and pick yourself back up again, making sure your friends saw what you wanted them to see—a perfect marriage. Well, guess what? They all knew what dad was doing, because I’m pretty sure their husbands were doing it too. He may have never hit you, but he scolded you. He made you feel small. He made you feel like you didn’t matter. And then he would use his charm to apologize his way back in, only to do it a mere seconds later. But that was okay because you were ‘taken care of.’”
I stood, my mother mimicking my actions. She held onto her wine glass firmly, and I half expected it to shatter.
“Do you want to know what this man makes me feel?” I gestured to Rhett, who was looking at me as if he had never seen me before. “He makes me feel whole. He makes me feel adventurous. He makes me feel comforted. He makes me feel wonderful. He makes me feel pleasure.” I blushed—blurting that last part out and my mind instantly going back to the dressing room, and the way his hands felt on my skin . . . then back to our one night we shared. Let me worship you, Kyla. I cleared my throat. “He makes me feel worshiped, loved, free . . . alive.” My voice cracked on that last word. “I love him, Mom, and nothing that you or David think will change that. He’s my husband, he’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.” I felt Rhett stand, his hand on my lower back, slowly tracing my spine. “If I would have known this is what tonight was going to turn out to be, I wouldn’t have come back to Arizona. I love you, Mom . . . but, I need to be alive.”
My mother’s face was quickly turning red, but I wasn’t going to give her a chance to speak to me or my husband again. Before she could open her mouth, I turned to Rhett, giving him a gentle nod and then we turned, making our way out of the sitting room and out of the house. His hand was warm in mine the entire time we walked to the truck. He opened the door for me, kissed my temple and shut the door. I took one last look at the house, and after hearing Rhett open his door and climb in . . . I broke.
Every tear that had been welling up since the moment I walked into the house had decided to fall.