48. Becca
FORTY-EIGHT
BECCA
“Are you at a bar?”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled my husband is finally trying to have a social life.
I’m not thrilled that I didn’t get a call informing me that he’d be late.
I’m also not thrilled that I got a call from a business associate saying he can no longer work with me because my husband says so.
My husband, who just days ago was gushing that he loves me and wants to have babies with me.
“Uh, yeah. With Jake. And now Dusty.”
“No shit, you’re on his phone,” I hiss, checking the other room to make sure Ellie’s occupied.
“You couldn’t call to tell me you’d be late?
Ellie and I have been worried sick. You’re lucky my ex owes me infinite favors and told me where you are, and my brother tracked you down so I don’t pinch your head clean off. ”
Tyler mutters something about a “fuckhead,” and I’d laugh if I weren’t ready to wring his neck.
“You get one chance to explain yourself. Why did I get a call from Carver Denton telling me that you said we can’t work together?”
Tyler sounds like he’s talking through his teeth. “I’m trying to protect you, Reba. That guy’s a good-for-nothing.”
“Carver Denton is a sweetie pie bleeding heart and you know that. His brothers . . .” I toss my head from side to side, trying to say it without incensing my husband further, “are not as great.”
“They tried to—”
“I remember what they tried to do, Tyler.” I say it with enough finality that he’s quiet for a second, a 90s country song filling the silence in the background.
“I’m still going to work with Carver. I run my own business, and you run yours.
I trust you to do what you need to do. I need you to do the same for me. ”
“We share that loan,” he tries.
Where is my Nicorette? I could grind through several pieces of that shit right about now.
He wants to try to play dirty? He forgets who he’s dealing with. I have a history of punching below the belt. It wasn’t that long ago that I was keying cars and slashing tires. Just because I no longer dabble in the substances that made that more likely to happen doesn’t mean I forgot how to fight.
“Yeah? And who took way more of the money?”
Tyler growls. My comment landed. Point for me. Kind of unfair that I’m fighting a man who’s clearly been drinking, but he took a cheap shot. I can take one right back. I deliver my main message.
“Have your little boys’ night. Drink your stupid drinks and talk shit all you want. But remember whose house you are coming back to.”
“I’ll sleep at the garage,” he grumbles.
“Go ahead,” I say placidly. “I’ll make sure your daughter gets to school with perfect braids, a cute outfit, and a healthy breakfast because I love her even when her daddy’s being a stubborn asshole who doesn’t trust his angel of a wife.”
There’s a pause as that rings through his likely booze-soaked brain.
“Reba, I’m sorry—”
“Goodnight, Tyler. For whatever reason, I still love you. You can kiss my ass and make it up to me tomorrow after you get over yourself.”
JAKE
I apologize in advance for the state I’m bringing your husband home in
Tyler’s at least walking, though Jake has an arm around him to hold him up. When they make it into the kitchen, Jake stops so Tyler can address me. I grab his chin and wiggle it.
“What did you do to yourself, grumpy bear?”
His eyes focus on me for a second and his lip goes pathetically wobbly. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Save it for the morning. Straight to bed for you.” I sigh and turn to Jake. “Can you help me get him upstairs?”
“Of course.”
Tyler’s muttering all sorts of bizarre cusses when we put him in my bed. I could have put him in his old guest room, but I want to keep an eye on him. I’m glad Ellie’s not awake to see him like this. T-Bone leaves Ellie to check on Tyler, jumping up on my bed and sneezing in his face.
I cackle when Tyler mumbles, “Fuckin’ turkey buzzard.”
I’ve never known Tyler to be particularly bad about drinking, so I’m not worried about this becoming an ongoing thing.
Tomorrow, he’ll probably feel like shit and swear off everything, and I’ll stick around to pat his hair and tell him he’s pretty and nice and not a bad person. He’ll apologize, and he’d better fucking mean it.
But I lie awake for a while, and not just because Tyler is snoring like a chainsaw. A nasty doubt lurks in my gut, and it keeps me tossing and turning.
What if he doesn’t trust me?
“Mama!”
I sit straight up and wrestle the covers off me, noting that it’s four in the morning on my bedside clock. Tyler stirs, but I force out a rushed “I got her” and sprint down the hall.
“Mama!”
I rip open Ellie’s bedroom door and find T-Bone pacing like she’s nervous. Ellie’s strawberry blonde hair is all over the place and tears stream down her face. “What’s wrong, lil mama?”
“I had a bad dream,” she sobs. “You were hurt.”
She was calling for Mama. I was the one hurt in her dream. I fight the heat behind my eyes at the possibility.
I might be Mama to her. I’m terrified by the tide of hope that swells in me. I didn’t know I needed this. I didn’t know how badly I wanted it until it’s here and on the table.
I slide to sit on her bed next to her, kiss the side of her head, and wrap my arms around her. “I’m okay, sweet girl. It was just a dream.”
“It was so scary,” she hiccups. “A big chicken got you.”
I laugh as I stroke her hair. I think of the irony that her dad was being a big chicken last night and that hurt me, but probably not as bad as whatever happened in her dream. “Those ol’ chickens can’t do nothing but claw me every once in a while.”
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s not feeling very good right now, but I think he’ll be feeling better tomorrow. But I’ve got ya tonight. How about,” I turn to grab her bedside water cup, “we have a sip of our magic water and make our girl bed? We can do anything when we’ve got girl bed. Come here, T.”
I pat the bed and T-Bone jumps back onto the bed.
I hold Ellie and grab a tissue to dry her tears.
We pet T-Bone and I sing Pussy’s song, plus the little nonsense one Ellie sings to T-Bone all the time.
I get her settled to lie down again and kiss her forehead.
Before I can say my usual goodnight, Ellie beats me to the punch.
“I love you, Mama.”
I swallow hard, trying not to cry and worry her. Because I’m not sad at all. My heart is full to bursting. She loves me.
“I love you too, lil mama. Always. Every minute of every day.”
She hums and nestles closer to T-Bone. I barely make it into the hallway before I start bawling. I lean back against the wall and slide down until I’m on the floor.
I’m her Mama. I didn’t birth that little girl.
Someone who was once my best friend did, and though my feelings about CJ are complicated, I couldn’t be more grateful for the gift of Ellie.
Ellie loves me like I’m her mom, and I’ve never felt so full.
I’m so out of it that I jump when Tyler’s arms surround me.
He’s next to me on the floor, crouched so I can rest my forehead on his shoulder.
“I heard, baby,” he whispers. “I heard on the monitor.”
He smells sour, like anyone who spent a night at the bar does, and I’m still not thrilled with him, but we deserve to celebrate this moment together.
“I’m Mama,” I stammer out over my tears. My crying streak has been broken and then some, but for once, I don’t feel like I need to be tough.
“Yeah,” Tyler says with a bright smile. “You’re Mama. She loves you.”
I nod and cry harder. Tyler uses his thumbs to wipe my tears and plants a kiss on my gross, wet lips without even flinching.
“We love you, Mama. So much.”
I crawl into Tyler’s lap and he shifts against the wall to make room for me.
I straddle him and hang myself over him, letting him stroke my back and tell me how loved I am.
I cradle his head to mine and we stay like that for a while, soaking up the moment.
I finally sit back and swipe under my eyes.
“I didn’t know this would be part of getting a bank loan.”
Tyler laughs and kisses me again. “I think somebody told me love doesn’t always come in the package we expect.”
“That’s for damn sure,” I joke. “What time is it anyway?”
“Around five.”
I groan. “It’s gonna be a long day.”
He nods. “Can we go talk? Since we’re up?”
“May as well.”
We stand and go back to my bed, sitting to face each other. Tyler watches me cautiously.
“I’m sorry, for several things. For scaring you by not coming home. For showing up drunk. I don’t want to be the guy who has to apologize for being drunk.”
I shrug and chew my lip.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole. It’s hard for me to let you put yourself in situations that seem dangerous to me,” he continues.
I open my mouth to object, but he holds up his hand.
“And I know you’re good at running your business. You’ve made so many families in this valley happy, and that’s not something I can say for my own business. People usually see me for not fun reasons.”
I snort and nod. “That would probably make me a grumpy bear too.”
He softens. “Thanks, actually. Sometimes I feel bad for being how I am, because it’s not like I want to be mean. But my job usually involves giving people bad news. It’s made me have to toughen up, probably more than I should.”
“Your dad’s not a grumpy bear,” I point out.
“Well, no. Part of it’s just me.”
We laugh and I squeeze his hands in mine. “I still love your grumpy ass.”
Tyler smiles, looking down at our hands. “I’m really grateful for that. I’m lucky you put up with me.”
“Well,” I raise my eyebrows, “you do need to act right most of the time. And you probably owe Carver an apology.”
His face darkens, but I level him with a look.
“I don’t need you two to be best friends, but I need you to not bark at him on Main Street. He really isn’t as bad as you think he is.”
Tyler’s quiet for a long while. “He was part of the end of things with CJ.”
My eyes widen. “Like, he slept with her?”
“No, no. I don’t think so, at least. But he was her dealer. I asked him to stop selling to her and he wouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry. He did say he gets why you hate him.”
Tyler runs his tongue over his teeth. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. And I know you’re not using drugs, but it’s all pretty complicated for me.”
“I get that. If it’s any comfort, the only thing he’s dealing me is Christmas trees. He thought he’d found some really cheap ones, but they fell through. He’s got a backup, though.” I lean closer to Tyler. “And I will be buying them from him. So before you panic and see it on the accounting . . .”
“Understood,” Tyler says. “Again, I’m so sorry. For all of this. I acted like an asshole. I’ll try and not fly off the handle like this again. It was stupid.”
My eyebrows lift. “Well, can’t say I haven’t been known to have a strong response to things without rational thinking. ADHD comes for both of us, I guess.”
“That it does. But it doesn’t excuse my behavior. I want to be better for you.”
I squeeze his hands. “I appreciate that.”
Tyler wiggles his shoulders. “Kiss and make up?”
“Yes, but you smell like a wild hog. Go hose yourself off and brush your damn teeth.”
Tyler sneaks his lips under my ear and sends his fingers crawling up and down my sides. “Maybe you can hose me off? Little shower slippin’ and slidin’?”
I sigh as he starts to kiss my neck. “I suppose. I’ll go get you a glass of water while you get started.”