Chapter 19
WILLOW
“He’s going to be here any minute. Get that table set, boys.” Mama Louise’s instructions are nothing to argue with, and Mark and Luke hustle a little faster around the table with the glasses and silverware.
“The sign’s crooked on the right. Cooper?” I’m not sure how she expects the little boy to fix the sign that’s hanging three feet above his head, but like the rest of the guys, he’s on it. He pushes a stool over, climbs up, and makes the needed adjustments.
“Better?” he asks, looking for approval.
Mama Louise looks over her shoulder. “Perfect. Good job problem solving.” I see her smile as she returns to her cooking.
She’s amazing, in charge of everything and everyone without breaking a sweat. She’s sweet and kind, warm and welcoming, but I get the sense that she’d beat you at your own game if you tried to pull one over on her.
“What can I do to help?” I ask, having finished my assigned job of slathering butter on the biscuit tops and sliding them into the pre-heated oven.
Mama Louise scans the room, looking for something, and gives me a new job. “Stand over here by me and help me with this chicken. This bowl is the egg wash.”
I listen to her intently, not wanting to get a single thing wrong. After several minutes, I realize that everyone else is watching her closely too.
The guys are hiding small smiles and the girls aren’t bothering, smiling widely as they continue setting serving platters on the table. Sophie and Katelyn look on the verge of happy tears.
They must really love Mama Louise’s fried chicken.
Shayanne calls out, “Say cheese!” and before I can react, she takes several pictures of Mama Louise and me, floury hands and all.
“Perfect!” Coming closer and proving she knows me better than I’d think, she gets right up on our hands and takes a close-up shot too.
“And one for the blog. Caption, bwak-kwak-kwak. I’m delicious. ”
“Uh, that’s my phone. How’d you unlock it?”
She looks at the phone in her hand like she has no idea how it got there before giving me a smirk. “I got skills, girl.” She shrugs it off, and I don’t bother asking again because she won’t tell me, anyway.
“Do those skills involve finishing up the lemon meringue pie?” Mama Louise muses.
Chastised, Shayanne sets my phone on the counter and grabs a lemon out of a bowl. Zesting for her life, she assures everyone, “Yes, they do.”
Mama Louise and I finish frying the chicken and washing up as we hear a truck outside.
“Hit the lights,” Cooper yells.
In the dark, Mama Louise holds my hand in hers.
Her skin is rough and slightly wrinkled from her years in the sun, but her palm is soft against mine.
I can hear her whispering under her breath, “Please, please, please . . . let that boy get this. He’s worked for it, and everyone deserves to hear his gift.
” I think she’s praying, not talking to me.
This moment is huge—the moment Bobby’s whole life changes, his dream comes true, and his family doesn’t have to worry anymore.
I’m thrilled for him, excited to witness this moment in his evolution. The instant he becomes The Bobby Tannen, something he’s worked for and wanted for so long.
I have a mental image of him standing on a huge stage, bright lights aimed up at him, and screens framing him with super-sized versions of that roughly gorgeous face. It’s a powerful sight, his smile one of a destiny fulfilled and I desperately want that for him.
I squeeze Mama Louise’s supportive hand back, repeating her prayer.
The front door opens and swings shut. Bobby’s deep voice calls out, “I know you’re in here. I could smell the chicken from the front porch.”
Cooper flips the light on and we all yell in unison, “Congratulations!”
“Surprise!”
Oops, guess Sophie and James didn’t get the memo on what we were supposed to say because they’re looking around in shock. Cindy Lou decides it’s a perfect time to let out a wail of displeasure at the loud ruckus.
Bobby smiles, though. “Thanks, everyone. You didn’t have to do all this for me.”
Mama Louise lets go of my hand and rushes him. She reaches up to his neck and he bends down to hug her. “Oh, hush, you know good and well that we’re as excited as can be for you.”
When she steps back, his smile looks a little frayed and his dark eyes are tortured.
Unbidden, my feet step forward. I need to ease the furrow line between his brows, smooth it out with a gentle caress.
He needs to know that it’s okay to celebrate his good fortune, that I understand what this means to him.
I can see the moment he realizes I’m here. His expression goes stormy and he covers the few feet between us in three strides. He scoops me into his arms, hugging me tightly. “Willow. Fuck, sweetheart. I missed you.” He holds me like he wants to absorb me into him and take some small part with him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, breathing him in and feeling his solidness against me. I memorize him, knowing this will be the last moment before everything changes.
“Language,” Mama Louise whispers, but it seems to be out of habit.
“I missed you too,” I murmur against his skin, pursing my lips to lay a small kiss there too. An invisible mark only I’ll know is forever there, even when he’s a country superstar.
“Tell us all about it while we eat. I’m starving,” Brody orders.
“While you’ve been out gallivanting, we’ve been doing actual labor, you know.
” He’s giving his brother shit. It’s how they say ‘I love you’ in their own gruff way.
Bobby has told me how much Brody went through to keep their family together, so having one on the verge of leaving the flock must be hard, even if it’s a sign that they’re all doing well.
“Yeah, okay. But first, there’s something I need to say.”
Bobby grinds his teeth together, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. Tension works its way through his body in an instant as he stands tall. Even his hands fist at his sides. He looks as though he’s going to battle, warring with invisible forces that only he can see.
“This weekend was . . . well, I’ll tell you all about it, but you need to know . . . I didn’t get the contract.”
Three, two, one. Silent shock lasts an entire three seconds while we wait for him to shout ‘gotcha’ or laugh at the joke. When he doesn’t, the reactions are slow to come as the truth sinks in.
“What?” Mama Louise breathes.
“Those fucking idiots!” Brody snaps. And for once, Mama Louise doesn’t correct his language.
“They don’t know what they’re missing,” Shayanne snarls, instantly riled up in her brother’s defense.
I touch Bobby’s arm and he looks down at me. “I’m so sorry, Bobby.”
His nod is stiff, then he hugs me again, even tighter than the first one. I rub my hand along the muscles of his back soothingly. “So sorry,” I murmur again.
He sniffs once, and as if nothing happened, he straightens both his face and his back. “Like I said, I’ll tell you about the weekend. It was good.” He shrugs. “Just didn’t work out.”
“Let’s sit down so we can eat while it’s still hot,” Mama Louise instructs.
Bobby ducks under the Congratulations sign Cooper spent all afternoon making, taking the time to point at it and give the kid a fist bump of appreciation, but no other mention is made of its now-inappropriate message.
We move to the long table on the back porch. The light strands dangling from the rafters look festive, as though this is the party we thought we were going to have.
“Mama, think I’m gonna need a beer with dinner tonight. Anyone else?” Mark says gruffly.
Hands lift around the table, and Mark and Katelyn hand out drinks. Beer to some, wine coolers to others, and a bottle of root beer to Cooper.
Everyone passes serving platters around the table, and Bobby tells Mama Louise, “Thanks for dinner. Making all my favorites is a real nice touch.” His plate is piled with fried chicken, fried okra, green beans made with bacon, thick macaroni and cheese with bread crumb topping, and a buttered biscuit.
Mama Louise nods, macaroni-filled fork in her hand as she tells him, “Best get on with it.”
Bobby shovels two bites in first, delaying the inevitable. I want to kiss him so he doesn’t have to tell this story. I don’t want him to relive the pain of his dream not coming true, especially when we thought it was such a sure thing.
As we eat, he tells us about the trip.
“The first meeting was weird. Big ol’ fancy office and a whole group talking about me like I was a loaf of bread on sale.” His laugh is forced, but we pretend not to notice. “The show, though, was awesome. I sang several songs, including a new one I wrote this weekend.”
His eyes turn to me. I could fall into their depths, swim in the darkness there, and not even miss the sun and moon if I were surrounded by him. Click.
“You’ll have to play the new one at Hank’s,” Brutal says. “Hank says he’s got the stage all warmed up for you this Saturday.”
“Good to know I’ve still got a place I can sell out.
” There’s no snark in the comment. It mostly sounds sad, resigned that the life he had before is what he’s returning to.
He was happy then, but it’s hard to have a dream served up on a silver platter only to have it snatched away.
I’m sure it makes your life seem less-than in the aftermath comparison.
Bobby continues as if giving a book report, dry and flat.
“I recorded a bunch of songs with Miller, a producer. They sounded great. And I did a photo shoot with Rory. He said I was a natural, and I told him I’d had some recent practice modeling.
” Bobby’s wink my way is the onstage one, fake and practiced.
“Then I met with the team again. They talked about feedback and perceptions, and to make a long story short, it wasn’t a good fit. I wasn’t a good fit with what they’re looking for, so there’s no deal.”
Even though I knew that’s how this story ended, his words are a knife to my gut. I can’t believe it. What more could they have possibly wanted? Bobby is amazing on stage, a talented singer and songwriter, and gorgeous to boot. There’s no way they could find anyone better than him.
I’m not the only one stuck on disbelief, with several other heads shaking around the table.
“How about here? What’s been going on?” Bobby is blatantly changing the subject, obviously done with the previous one.
“We did a photo shoot with Willow!” Shayanne blurts.
I freeze, jaw dropping because I think she’s talking about the boudoir shots, and that’s not a conversation I want to have now, or ever. Especially in front of Mama Louise.
Shayanne glares at me pointedly.
Oh! The other pictures. The perfectly reasonable portrait ones.
“Yeah, they ambushed me at Hank’s and Unc actually gave me the evening off.” I tell him about Unc yelling at the whole bar, making the customers wait on themselves so he didn’t have to move, and how Olivia had bolted to see Hannah before we went to my house for the photo shoot.
I leave out any and all mention of the second round of photos.
After dinner, we take our lemon meringue pie out into the yard.
James starts a fire in the firepit and Cooper mouths about beating everyone at cornhole.
We eat and watch, Bobby making no move to play in tonight’s tournament or engage in the friendly teasing the rest of the guys dish out.
I stay at his side, hoping my presence is a comfort, easing the pain of disappointment.
Earlier than usual, Bobby takes my hand. “I’m beat, guys. Think we’ll turn in.”
As we walk around the house, he pauses and calls back, “Thanks for tonight. It means a lot to know you’ve all got my back, no matter what.” He swallows thickly as if that was hard to say.
The truck ride across the field to the Tannen house is quiet. Bobby seems lost in his thoughts, and I’m supporting him silently, letting him lead the conversation wherever he needs it to go. Or not go.
In the house, he guides me to the upstairs bathroom and starts to strip. Taking the cue, I do too, and by the time I’m nude, he’s got the water hot and the bathroom steamy. He holds the curtain back for me to step inside first.
The water is scalding along my back, but I don’t move to change it. Instead, I pull him to me, sharing the small space beneath the spray with him. My hands dance over his skin, soaping away the weekend, the disappointment, the shards of his dream, letting it wash down the drain with the suds.
“It’s okay. It was an experience. One you’ll never forget,” I whisper into the steam between us.
His head hangs, water running in rivulets down his face from his hair. There are even water droplets caught in his dark lashes, but he doesn’t blink them away. “I know. I just thought . . . maybe this time, I could be . . .”
He can’t find the words, but I feel like I know what he means.
“Shh, it’s okay.” I reach my thumb up to his lips, swiping away any criticism of himself he was going to voice. “You’re amazing, you’re home, and you’re happy here. Farming, family, singing, and writing songs.”
I pause, a wave of sadness sweeping through my heart and disbelief through my mind. But this moment isn’t about my feelings, it’s about Bobby’s. And he’s breaking, right in front of me, giving in to the overwhelming turmoil raging through him.
“Me. I’m right here with you, Bobby. And I love you.”
He growls harshly, “I love you too.”
And though his words are gruff and his movements sure as he spins me and pins my back to the shower wall, his thrusts are gentle as he enters me. I’m ready for him. I’m always ready for him.
He drives into me in waves, slow and rolling. I lift my leg around his hip, making more room for him, begging him to go deeper. I want him everywhere—inside my entire body the way he’s in my entire heart.
We come quickly, having missed each other in the few days apart. As he comes, his eyes stay wide open, locked on me as he grunts my name over and over. “Willow . . . Willow . . . Willow.”
We fall into his bed, naked and still damp.
I run my fingers through the hair on his chest, petting him to sleep and enjoying the way his fingertips dance along my back in a different pattern.
I wonder if it’s the new song he wrote and can’t wait to hear it.
And though our arms and legs are tangled up in each other, our hearts are even more entangled as we fall asleep. Click.
Long after Bobby’s breathing slows into sleep, I stay awake.
I feel like I’ve run an emotional marathon tonight.
From sadness to joyful hope to sorrow. But we can be okay, I vow.
Somehow, I’ll make this okay for him, not getting the deal and staying here with me and his family.
I’ll love him through the disappointment and bring smiles to every single day I get with him.
He deserves that. He deserves everything.