43. Tyler
FORTY-THREE
TYLER
This is what all those country songs were talking about.
Not the ones about beer and heartache and Mama and trains. The ones about turning into a complete slipping-on-banana-peels goober when you fall in love.
I’ve never been like this in my whole entire life. If I weren’t my own boss, I’d get fired for how much I’m dreamily zoning out while under cars. Becca’s started a new tradition of dropping by the shop after she picks up Ellie from school just to give me a kiss.
She’s got shit to do and so do I, but she takes that extra ten minutes to see me before we get back to the madness.
I love it.
My life is a steady rhythm of cars, blueberry muffins, banana bread, workday kisses, cottage labor, and spending as much time as possible with that head of blonde hair who stole my heart.
There’s nobody to convince anymore. We pulled off the heist so hard it came true. I’m barely recognizable, to myself, to the people around me, and while I’ve still got deep bags under my eyes, I’ve got a goofy smile you couldn’t kill if you tried.
I’m usually in a bad mood in October. It’s my birthday month, and since I’ve been older, it’s just not as much fun as it once was.
Not to mention what happened on my twenty-fifth birthday.
Instead of coming home to a cake and a present or two, I came home to CJ passed out for who knows how long.
My mom kept calling me to ask when I was coming over while I was trying to revive my girlfriend, the mother of my child. Thank god Ellie was still a baby and probably doesn’t remember it, but I’ll always wonder what damage it might have done to her.
I told my parents what had really happened that night once CJ was in rehab. Mom didn’t want me to take her back at all. Dad issued no opinion, but tried to be there in that steadfast way of his.
Mom was probably right, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I sometimes think she was happy when CJ finally left for good, because then I didn’t have to make the call.
This October hasn’t been as hard to bear.
I didn’t mention my birthday to Becca, though I bet she can remember when it is from when we were kids. Dad and Dusty know I like to keep things quiet. I’ll have to see Mom Sunday for a birthday dinner, and I’ll pretend everything’s fine.
At least I’ll have Becca by my side. I take comfort in that as I park at her house—our house.
But most of the lights are off and the house is quiet.
“Reba? El?” I peek into the kitchen to find a bright piece of paper on the counter.
At the cottage. Come when you’re ready.
Love,
Shug and Reba and T-Bone the Turkey Buzzard
I smile as I head for the stairs.
Love. She just put it in there like it’s nothing, and I’m sure from the outside everyone assumes we have it. At some point in the beginning of our marriage, I’d have called it absurd. But when I look back, even on our wedding day, we had the first early tendrils of love.
Because I couldn’t stand the thought of Becca being sad on a special day. Because I couldn’t wait to dance with her so I could hold her more. Because I couldn’t let her work herself to the bone cutting pumpkins off the vine after our wedding.
Here, weeks later, that feeling has only grown, sometimes in little steps, and sometimes in big, sweeping bounds.
I keep that same smile on as I’m walking out to the cottage with my flashlight.
I can see Becca in the front window, waving to me with Ellie in her arms. Ellie waves too, then squirms to get down and runs toward the back of the house.
All the other lights in the front of the house turn off but that one room, and some tiny, hopeful part of me thinks maybe the girls made me a cake.
That might make for the perfect birthday for me, just having the two—fine, three, you win, T-Bone—of them and a little treat.
“Where’s my girls?” I call out as I flip the lights on. Doggie paws jab into my stomach at the same time an ear-splitting “SURPRISE!” comes from a room full of people.
I jump backward against the wall next to the door with my hand on my heart, but T-Bone nudges my hand away and licks at it as emphatically as always.
“Oh . . . my god.”
Everyone is here.
Becca and Ellie. Dusty, Ronnie, and Ada. Becca’s mom and mamaw. My parents. Jake and Darcy, plus Darcy’s aunt and uncle. Caleb, sporting a t-shirt with a raccoon on it.
I’m standing here in shock, petting T-Bone where she’s still balanced with her front paws on me.
And the whole place smells like fresh paint.
Becca steps forward with Ellie on her hip, grinning up at me.
“Happy birthday, Big Daddy,” she croons.
My throat thickens, my eyes are hot, and my nose stings.
This is what it’s like to feel loved and seen and appreciated.
I haven’t felt this way once since Ellie was born, and maybe even since I’ve been an adult. Now it’s a straight-line wind threatening to knock me all the way over.
I slip my hand into the back of Becca’s hair and pull her in for a firm kiss, drawing a whoop from all our guests. When we pull apart, she giggles. “Sorry. I know you probably hate this.”
I shake my head and reach to take Ellie from her, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Absolutely not. I love it.”
I find Becca’s hand with my free one and give it a squeeze as I look around the room. “I can’t believe you’re all here.”
That gets a laugh from my gathered crowd and I start working my way around to hug everybody. I give my mom an extra squeeze because she looks like she’s going to cry. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“I’m just so glad for you,” she says. “I get to see my baby happy.”
My dad claps my shoulder when I hug her again. And I’m being honest when I say, “I am happy.”
Becca whistles to get everyone’s attention, but she addresses me for everyone else’s benefit.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. I knew you wouldn’t be able to just sit around and chitty chat, so I turned this into a painting party.
You don’t have to paint if you don’t want to, but we’re all working on the rooms so we can wrap up this dang thing and get it rented. ”
“She duped us into manual labor,” Caleb shouts over the whooping from everyone else.
My jaw tightens again. Becca knows me. She knows I’d be crawling out of my skin talking to all these people, even if they’re the people we love. So, she figured out a productive activity to do, and one that helps me spend more time with her sooner.
“That’s perfect. Thank you.” I dip to kiss her again. “And thank you, everybody, for being here. And helping out, but I guess Becca’s making you do that.”
Everybody laughs, and I hand Ellie off to her papaw. Becca steers me into the kitchen, which was already painted before I put the cabinets up. A whole spread is set out, including a cake in a heart shape.
“What do you want to drink?” she asks, ducking her head into the fridge. “Booze or no booze?”
“No booze, thanks,” I say.
A cold can is pressed into my hand and Becca’s arm wraps around my waist. “Your mom said you like red velvet best. Ellie insisted we cut it into a heart shape, which also meant we got to taste test the parts we cut off.”
I grin. “Yeah, that’s my favorite. And why am I not surprised by Ellie’s plan?” I set my can on the counter and pause to look down at my wife. “Reba, this is so nice. Thank you again. I’m just . . . wow. I’m blown away.”
“You’re welcome. You deserve to be celebrated.”
I tuck some of her blonde hair behind her ear, then let my finger drift from her ear to under her chin. I brush a gentle kiss to her lips then pull back to look at her, really take her in. My jaw clenches as I realize what I’m about to say—and the fact that I mean it.
“I love you, Rebecca Jean. And not just because you threw me a party.”
Becca’s face lights up that much more, but she still teases me. “Sure, it’s not because of the party.”
I laugh and kiss her. “I love you because every day is a party with you. Because you’re the sunshine behind my storm cloud, and I’m lucky every time you light me up.”
Becca lifts on her toes to beg for more kisses and I gladly oblige. “I love you too, Tyler. For your grumpiness and your sweetness. For how protective you are. For you being you. You’re more than I ever could have asked for.”
My heart soars. I didn’t need her to say it back because she shows it every day, but damn, does it feel amazing to hear it. I’ve crushed on her since we were kids, and now we’re in love. It feels impossible and natural at the same time.
Best birthday gift ever.
Our kiss starts sweet but turns hot and hungry. “Easy, you two,” Dusty says, stepping into the kitchen. “I don’t need to be present while you make me a new nibling.”
“The hell is a nibling?” I ask.
Dusty shrugs. “You know. A niece or nephew.”
“That’s a new one for me.”
Ellie comes into the kitchen to tell Becca something, and she crouches down to listen like she always does.
Since our conversation about kids, I’ve been thinking more and more about Becca as a parent. She’s stepped in with Ellie so easily, weathering the worst tantrums and meltdowns with a calm attitude. Even I get shaken by those.
The more time that passes, I’m less afraid of what would happen if Becca got pregnant, and more thinking of that as a desired outcome.
Maybe not yet. Maybe not until Ellie’s out of preschool, or until we’re done with the cottage, or some other milestone that would give us more certainty.
But the facts are there: Becca is an excellent mom figure, and if you asked me today who I would want to be my next baby’s mom, she’d be the answer.
Hell, she’s already Ellie’s mom in a way. I love that she hasn’t pushed any title on Ellie, letting her choose to call her whatever she wants. It’s just one more way she makes room for my daughter’s and my wounded hearts.
Becca takes Ellie’s hand in hers and lightly pats my butt with her other hand. “Better go socialize, Big Daddy. Sissy and I are gonna go use the potty at the big house. Grab a paint brush or roller if you need something to keep your hands busy.”
We’ve got thirteen people packed into this house made for no more than four, but instead of feeling trapped, I just feel surrounded by warmth.
Everybody is good natured about the requested painting, excited to leave their mark on our project and help us get it ready for its open house during the upcoming Pumpkin Smash.
I have no doubt it’ll fill up with renters quick.
And yes, I did a lot of the work, but Becca had the vision.
She’s made every part of my life better. Even if she hadn’t said she loved me back, I’d know she loves me. It’s all in how she treats me, like her partner and equal.
By the time I blow out my twenty-eight candles with everyone I know and love around me, I have to fight hard to keep it together. Because for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for every moment that led me right to this one.
For once, on my birthday, I feel loved.