Chapter Eleven
Jase
“Let me get this straight.” Trace propped against the deck rail, one foot crossed over the other, beer dangling from two fingers. “She’s pregnant, you’re getting married, and you haven’t told your mama?”
“Yeah.” I slumped deeper into my chair. The sun dipped behind the trees, an orange-pink glow above the dark outline of the tall pines. With that view, I could almost forget a house sat on the other side of the treeline.
“Is it yours?” Leaning forward in the chair next to me, Tate rested his elbows on his thighs.
Although they were my best buddies, I hadn’t hung out with either of them lately, content to be with Tyler almost every day.
Guess I couldn’t really blame Tate – he didn’t know Tyler – but he didn’t have to be an ass, either.
I glared. “Do you want me to punch you?”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“It’s not.” I lifted my beer, taking an icy slug. “She’s not a liar.”
Trace circled his bottle in my direction. “You’ve told your parents about her, right?”
“They know about her, but they don’t know about her. Grandma and Grandaddy have met her.” I wasn’t telling that fight story, though. Tyler’s past was her private life, hers to share with whom she chose. Not mine.
“What are they going to think?”
I’d hear from Mama about the function of contraception for real, but she liked babies. She’d been worried Elizabeth and I would have kids too soon, but I could have told her not to worry. Elizabeth was more religious about those shots than she’d ever been about going to church.
I thought Mama would like Tyler. And I knew she’d love being a grandma.
“You know you don’t have to marry her.” Tate relaxed into his seat. “You can coparent, and paternity and the birth certificate can be handled without a ring.”
“I know that. This is just . . . easier. Logical.”
“Logical.” Tate snorted. “Right.”
My neck burned. “Shut up.”
“Explain it to me.” He rested his elbow on the chair arm and regarded me, brows lifted. “I don’t get it.”
I shrugged, itching under his questions. “Feels right. I care about her–”
Trace made a small noise in his throat. I ignored him.
“Don’t want to be a part-time dad.”
“Pfft.” Tate grinned around the mouth of his bottle. “That’s a great reason to make a lifetime commitment.”
“It’s not just about the baby.” It wasn’t.
I was excited. A little scared about how excited I was, but I also felt things for Tyler I hadn’t with Elizabeth.
I almost felt guilty, especially after witnessing the hint of hurt and panic in Elizabeth’s face when we’d run across one another in Thomasville, but I didn’t regret where we were either.
Being with Tyler had turned out to be the best time of my life.
I wanted that, wanted her, for the rest of my life.
Not long after my useless friends headed home, my phone buzzed with a video call, Mama’s number on the screen. My stomach dropped, but now was as good a time as ever.
Walking in through the sliding patio doors, I swiped to answer. “Hey, Mama.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” On screen, Mama smiled at me, her hair in a ponytail, Daddy on the hotel couch beside her, remote in hand.
I dropped into the recliner, the one that still held an outline of Grandaddy’s form, and fumbled for the lever on the side to let out the footrest. “What are y’all up to?”
“Your daddy played golf, and I went to the spa.” She patted her cheeks, still smiling.
“You, um, look moisturized.” I half-listened while she went on about the mud wrap she’d had and the hot stone massage. I never went wrong at Christmas or her birthday with a gift certificate because the woman loved a good spa treatment.
When she’d finished the spa story and waxed poetic about how good the hotel restaurant was, I cleared my throat.
“So, um, remember me telling you about Tyler?” I scuffed a hand over my hair. Nerves jumped in my gut. That had nothing to do with Tyler, and everything to do with how my parents, mainly my mama, would react.
Mama’s gaze followed the gesture, her eyes narrowing and taking on a sharp gleam. The problem with being an only child? That meant there was only me to focus on, and she knew me too well.
“I do.”
“Your grandma and grandaddy liked her.” Daddy didn’t look at me, but he was listening, at least.
“I’m glad.” I cleared my throat again. Might as well jump in. “So . . . she’s pregnant. We’re getting married.”
Silence lingered, heavy and weighted. Mama lifted a brow, her familiar teacher stare. Daddy didn’t react, simply waiting.
After a moment, Mama’s audible inhale filled the air. “John, get dressed. We’re going home.”
I groaned.
Shit. As much as I’d known this was coming, I’d hoped it wouldn’t.
“Mama, don’t be like that.” I rubbed my forehead.
“John Carpenter.”
Not my government name. Shit.
“A gallon of milk lasts longer than you’ve been with her.”
“Mama.”
“You don’t know anything about her.” On her feet, Mama threw clothes in her suitcase. “You don’t know her bad habits or what she does in a hard spot or if she throws her dirty clothes on the floor–”
I closed my eyes.
This was going great.
“Mama.”
“Hon, stop packing.” Daddy’s voice brooked no argument. “He’s a grown man, not sixteen. Take a breath and listen to the boy. Son, tell your mama why you believe this is the best call.”
“John. He just got out of a toxic relationship, and I am so glad he broke things off with that little girl and now he wants to–”
“Delane. Hush up and listen to your boy.”
With a hot glare at him, she subsided and eyed me unhappily, arms crossed tighter than a church girl’s thighs on Sunday. I waited a full twenty seconds to make sure she wouldn’t interrupt.
“I know you’re worried and I know it’s fast. I’m not stupid, Mama, and I learn from my mistakes. I know what I don’t want. I learned that, trust me. She’s right for me, and I’m good for her. I’m not saying I love her or she loves me–”
That wanted to get stuck in my throat.
“--but we’re suited and we’re steady. She likes me for who I am, and I care about her. We can build something good together, build a family for our baby.”
She pressed her lips tight, so I knew she was unimpressed with me. But she was listening, and that was something. She’d calm down, and Daddy trusted me.
My gut knotted. I was bound and determined to give Tyler easy, and my mama throwing down about us when Tyler’s mother accepted me didn’t fall under that.
The idea of choosing between them made me sick.
But the choice was no contest. I was committed to Tyler all the way.
“Delane.” Daddy’s soft, firm voice cut across my mild sense of panic, so relief loosened my gut. He had my back, and he’d work on her. “You know him. He’s always gone his own way. When he does something, he’s committed, and he follows through. This isn’t new.”
“I just don’t want to watch him make a mistake.”
“And you’re not. Elizabeth? That would have been a mistake. Tyler is . . . she’s right for me, Mama. I need you to accept her.”
A pause hung before Mama sighed. “And you know I will.”
“Good.” The firm note in my voice surprised me, and Mama’s eyes widened, just a little. Daddy covered her hand. “Because she’s important and she has to come first.”
Surety sank in with every syllable, and I relaxed further. This – putting Tyler first in everything – this was right.
And easy.