Chapter 37
Tagger
Three weeks later . . .
“Thanks for meeting me, Tagger.” Anna takes a sip of wine, our eyes meeting in the mirror over her glass.
I’ve wanted to talk to her for so long about the promotion and Paris, but voicing it gave it life I wasn’t prepared to face yet. I’m on a mission, but I need to respect that there are two parents to consider. “What’s this about?”
She turns to face me, spinning the stem of the wineglass and resting her other hand on the wooden bar top. My gaze is drawn to her finger. “Oh . . .” It’s all I can muster.
“That’s all?” she says with a trickle of a laugh. “I almost expected something snarky.”
“It’s a beautiful ring. Quite the statement piece.”
“Five point five carats and the only statement it’s meant to make is that I’m engaged.”
“Congratulations. Marcel?” I don’t purposely rub her wrong. It just works out that way. Another reason we’re not together any longer.
“Funny. Of course, it’s Marcel. He popped the question last week when you had Beckett.”
“Have you told him?”
Her eyes travel to the solitaire on her finger, a wistfulness coming over her as she sighs quietly. “I have.”
I imagine it’s a difficult conversation to have and one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. “How did he react?”
Righting her shoulders, she sits straighter. “Marcel adores Beckett, but it’s not necessarily mutual. But these things take time.”
It didn’t for Pris. He took right to her. Not having met Marcel myself, I’ll assume our son has a good judge of character.
She says, “The wedding will be next spring.”
Hate stating the obvious, but I’m unclear how the pieces are falling together. “Beck will be in school.”
“I think it’s best. It’s going to be a large affair in the French countryside. Royals will be in attendance.”
“Sounds like all your dreams are coming true.”
She moves the diamond back and forth on her finger, then sets her hands in her lap. “We’ll do a smaller celebration with Beckett and some family when he can visit in the summer.”
“Visit?” My chest tightens for my son. “What are you saying?”
“I took the promotion, and I’m moving to Paris. I’m engaged and starting a life there. Marcel wants children.”
I stare at her, waiting to see where she’s heading with this. “Of his own.”
“Doesn’t every man?” She turns to her wine and takes another sip.
“I don’t know about every other man. You’re allowed to start a new life, but I’m wondering how Beckett will fit into it. That’s my only concern.”
She seems to be at a loss, but when tears fill her eyes, she says, “I love him more than anything, but I can’t compete against what you’re offering him.”
“What are you talking about, Anna?”
“He doesn’t want escargot or the Louvre. I could tempt with chocolate croissants because he loves those.” She smiles as if a memory has returned. Her eyes shift back to mine, and she says, “He loves horses, Peachtree Pass, the ranch and being a cowboy, painting the house with you, and . . .”
I can see the pain she’s fighting through, but she still carries her smile bravely. I need to know, though, so I ask, “And?”
Taking a deep breath that has her leaning back, she exhales slowly.
“Your Christine.” My Pris. There’s a pause where her lips twist as if she doesn’t want to admit defeat.
But it was never a contest. “He adores her. He’s told me so much about her that I think I adore her.
” Dropping her hand, she shakes it under a humorless laugh.
“I was so rude to her, too, and to you. I’m sorry.
I don’t know why I was jealous, but I’ve thought so much about it and I’m happy you’ve found someone who not only loves you but also our son like her own.
Though I don’t want him calling her mom. Okay?”
“Okay. Same goes for Marcel.”
“Do you love her?”
“I love her.”
Her smile is genuine, which gives hope for some reason. She says, “We’re moving in different directions, across continents, and he needs to live with one of us. Although it will shatter my heart to pieces, he’s happiest with you, and his happiness is more important than my sadness of missing him.”
I breathe. For the first time in weeks, I feel my lungs pumping air freely through my system. “Do you mean that?”
She nods, the confidence in her eyes and the smile that sits firmly in place underneath have me believing her.
She says, “School starts at the end of August. I’ve already done research, and there are no private schools in the surrounding eight counties.
But you have time to enroll him in Peachtree Elementary before the start of the year. ”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, not minding the to-do list she’s giving me because it’s more than errands and tasks. She’s giving me our son to raise where there’s room to spread his wings and run without cars threatening to hit him.
After taking another sip, she sets her heels back down on the floor. “I need to go. Marcel has never had a hot dog, and I told him Beck and I can take him to the best stand in the city.”
“Minelli’s on Fourth?”
She laughs. “You know I don’t care for street meat because yuck, but for Beck and I guess for Marcel, I’ll be hot dogging it for dinner.”
“I like this side of you.”
“The one risking my gastrointestinal tract?”
“The one that believes she deserves happiness as well.”
She playfully points a finger in my face. “I still get him during breaks.”
“And anytime in between. You’ll always be his mother, Anna, and as such, you have a place to stay in Peachtree Pass. Or if it’s too boring for you out there in the middle of nowhere, there’s a Four Seasons Resort near Fredericksburg.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I’ll bring him to see you.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal. Tell your attorney to contact mine, and we’ll get everything sorted legally.
” Leaning in, she kisses my cheek. Not quick to leave, she whispers, “You deserve happiness as well.” Straightening her back, she takes her purse from the bar and tucks it under her arm. “She’s a very lucky woman.”
I knew the moment I saw Pris in that sundries shop that I was the lucky one. She starts walking but turns back to say, “Oh, you got the tab, right?”
“I got you covered.”
“Thanks.” There’s a lightness to her steps. Happiness that I haven’t seen in her in years. It looks good on her. But I’m glad it’s not because it’s me. I wish her and Marcel the best. “We always made a good team like that.”
I hold up my bourbon. With that conversation out of the way, I’m finally able to take a sip. “Drinking and eating, and me paying the check?”
“You’re the best, Tagger. Toodle-oo.” Details need to be worked out, but the obstacles have been cleared from my path. I can work from anywhere or retire from asset management. But I also have more money than I can spend in a lifetime, so why not spend it with the two people I care about most?
One down.
My best friend to go . . .
Three days later . . .
I’ve been secretly trying to wrap up some of my accounts. The others will shift to Keith for him to keep or reassign. Nothing too obvious until I’m ready to announce.
Coming to sit in front of me, no notepad or e-pad, pen, or phone in sight, Kendra says, “Deloitte has been processed and shifted to the accounting team. Baer needs signed paperwork that I had delivered earlier today. But Mastrioni said they are happy with the work you’re doing and look forward to continuing when they paid their invoice on Tuesday. ”
“That’s great. I suspect there will be another hefty bonus for us at the end of the year.”
“But you won’t be here?”
“I’ll still be—fuck.” I release a heavy sigh, knowing I can’t hide it from her.
She gets up to close the door. When she returns, she asks, “So you are leaving?”
Sitting back, I steeple my fingers. “I’m not walking out the door tomorrow. But I plan on giving notice before the end of July. I’m hoping that’s enough time to wrap up what I can and reorganize the team for the clients.”
“It was the biscuits, wasn’t it?”
I chuckle. “The biscuits helped, but I was already in love.”
“Oh Tagger, that’s so romantic. You deserve this. You work hard, you’re a great father, but you also need a life. If that’s what she gives you, then I couldn’t be happier.”
“She makes me want to change my life. She makes me want to be a part of hers, to use my hands again, to work the land, and get back to my roots.” I’d already shared that Anna was moving to Paris, so she knows Beck will be with me.
“I forgot to mention you’re a great boss.”
“It’s been great to work with you. I’ve been thinking about consulting and working freelance. If that’s something you’d be interested in—”
“I’m interested.”
I rest my hands on the desk. “I’ll keep you in the loop with what’s going on, then.”
She stands. “Remember to invite me to the wedding.”
Chuckling, I reply, “You’re on the list.”
I rush home to change into basketball shorts and a tee before racing out the door in my sneakers. It’s later than I intended, but there’s so much to do lately that time is lost if I’m not paying attention.
Walking onto the courts, I scan the players before finding Baylor playing on the back third. They’re short a player since it’s usually me, but I don’t jump in. That’s not how pickup games of basketball work around here. I lean against the fence and wait for someone to score.
Baylor sees me out of the corner of his eye but keeps playing. He’s not been responding to my texts or calls. I even sent him an email to see if he’d reply. He didn’t.
One team scores points, and they scatter to take a water break. Baylor walks by me and says, “Find another team, asshole.”
“Fuck you, Baylor.”
“Ohhhh,” the other players caught that and start to laugh.
Holding the water bottle at his side, he says, “Fuck you, man. Go find another court.”
He flips me off, then squirts water in his mouth.
“No. We will either take this out on the court or take it off the courts and get it all out. Your choice.”