32. Becca
THIRTY-TWO
BECCA
The damn pumpkins ain’t gonna cut themselves.
That’s what I’m repeating to myself to keep from melting down while I cut pumpkins in my wedding dress and Tyler’s jacket. Which doesn’t exactly scream “not melting down” but I’m not splitting hairs.
I didn’t get to finish this task this morning, and tomorrow morning, the small children of the tri-state region will be flooding my property in search of a fall-tastic time.
And it’s not fall-tastic if there aren’t pumpkins.
So, here I am.
Today was wonderful. Amazing. A dream day. Perfect. And I’m so overwhelmed by all of it: our people rallying around us, how sweet Tyler was, how much it didn’t feel like an arrangement of convenience and more like a team effort.
And in a loveless marriage, maybe that’s what it feels like: teamwork. Working toward a common goal, but instead of the goal being love and joy and a partner in everything, our goal is thriving businesses.
And raising a well-adjusted child along the way, but that’s kind of a side effect.
I should probably be more concerned about the mommy-like role I’m playing here, but it doesn’t feel like a burden. Ellie’s a sweet girl and I love our time together. I don’t like being alone, so I’m glad Tyler and Ellie are around.
I both love and hate how much today proved Tyler’s softness. I’ve known he had it in him ever since that night on the hood of his car when we were young. I’ve gotten flashes of it, like when he bought me a Red Bull and a muffin, when he’s apologized with flowers or food, but today was a new level.
A light bobs in the distance and heads steadily my way, and I’d be afraid, but I’m pretty sure I know who it is. By the time his legs are in my headlamp beam, I know for sure.
I’m sure I want to run and jump at him. What I’m not sure of is, when I land on him, whether I’ll want to laugh or cry or slap him or kiss all over his tender, confusing face.
Because while today was sweet, we’re ignoring how just last night, Tyler shut down on me when something went wrong. It sucked.
“What are you doing out here, Reba?”
I share my ever-so-clever motto with him. “Pumpkins ain’t gonna cut themselves!”
He’s just a few feet from me now, sighing heavily. “You can’t do this.”
I bend and cut another pumpkin from the vine, holding it up by its stem. “Can’t I?”
He shields his eyes from my headlamp, blinking into the light. “You need to rest. It was a crazy day. Tomorrow’s going to be worse.”
I bark a sarcastic laugh and shiver against the night’s damp chill. “Ha! Crazy. Crazy to get married for loan fraud and make everyone in your life celebrate it.”
With a sad chuckle, he pulls his beanie off his head and steps in front of me. He tugs the beanie over my mostly still intact wedding hair and speaks with a sweet, gravelly voice. Like he’s telling a secret. “Got another knife?”
I straighten and let my hands go slack at my side. “Why? Is this the real end game? You kill me for my collateral?”
Tyler reaches into his pocket and pulls out a decent-sized hunting knife. Maybe his dick isn’t really that big and it’s just his knife.
Big Knife Energy.
“How many inches up?” he asks.
“Haaaaa,” I tease him.
“There’s Dependable Becca again.”
“Reliable. We’ll call it reliable. But I don’t need your help. I’ll be done soon.”
“Reba,” he warns. “This is a team effort now. Stop acting like you’re putting me out. I’ll tell you if you are.”
“What, you’re not put out by helping your new wife cut pumpkins after midnight?”
“My new wife’s going to do it whether I like it or not, so I may as well make sure she’s not out too late.”
I huff.
“Or you could let me get up early and do it for you.”
It’s tempting. I am so very tired, and if I’m honest, I’m at a high risk of cutting myself on accident because I’m so wiped.
Big arms surround me and I nestle against Tyler, enveloped in his warm, spicy scent. His hand strokes down my hair. It’s the ultimate comfort, feeling cared for and seen.
“You need to go to bed, baby.”
“I need to get this done,” I mumble.
“Not tonight,” he whispers into my hair. “The pumpkins will still be here in the morning.”
I don’t argue for once. I just nod and he kisses the top of my head.
“Good choice.” He folds up his knife and puts it back in his pocket, then sticks out his hand to take mine and lay it somewhere where it won’t get stepped on.
He pulls me into his side, resting his arm around my waist, and together, we walk back to the house.
But as we start to climb the steps, Tyler stops me.
“I forgot.”
He dips and scoops my legs right out from under me, holding me in a bridal carry.
“Geez, you pick me up a lot,” I tease him.
A flash of heat comes from his face. “Yeah, well, it’s our wedding day. I’m supposed to bring you in like this.”
A tiny little flame ignites in my stomach, burning up to lick around my heart and warm me through. I giggle and lock my arms behind his neck to make it easier on him.
He fumbles with the screen door, then the inner door. I help by kicking it open with my boot, and he laughs. Then he turns sideways so he can fit us both through the door. He sets me back on my feet and leans to make sure the door is shut and locked.
I’m exhausted, but nerves tingle through me.
I want a kiss, but I’m tired of being the person who asks for one. I want him to want to kiss me. Sure, we kissed tons tonight, but that was all for show. There’s no one but us now.
This time last night, he had my private parts in his mouth. But then something spooked him, and though he’s been perfectly sweet today, it feels like romance is canceled for the foreseeable future.
Tyler glances my way before bending to untie his boots. I step out of mine and pull his beanie off my head. “Here’s your hat. Thanks for that.”
He takes it back from me and I gasp when our fingers brush. I’m still not over the contradictions between us. We’ve seen each other perform hardcore sex acts, but now the simplest touches feel monumental.
“Of course,” he says. “We should get to bed.”
My heartbeat thumps so hard I feel it in my jugular.
What does he mean by “we?” I nod and we head for the stairs.
He’s a few steps behind, turning off the remaining lights on the first floor.
What am I going to do when we get up there?
Take his hand and drag him to my room? Go to mine and see if he follows? Storm the gate of his room?
Ellie’s breakdown yesterday clearly had an effect on him, but there’s no denying the truth.
I want him.
I want this wedding to be real. I want this night to be as special as it’s supposed to be. I want Tyler in more than name and title. I want this man who sees my faults and balances them, who held onto me so sweetly on the dance floor.
But I have to give him time and space, and hope that whatever is supposed to happen will play out.
I linger when I walk to my room, waiting to see if he’ll make a move. Everything inside me curdles when he goes for his own door, but my hopeful heart rises when he pauses.
Only to crash right back down again.
“Night, Reba.”
I’m not getting my wish. Not today.
“Night, Ty.”
But we’re in it for the long haul now. So I’ll keep hanging on.