6. Ronnie
Ronnie
When I wake up on Monday morning and find Flint still sleeping, I start to reach for him. I want to make love to him one more time before we part ways forever. But I know I’ll miss him too much if I let myself do that.
As it is, walking away from him makes my heart ache. I didn't expect to develop such strong feelings for him in the three days we spent together. But he hasn’t mentioned seeing me again after this weekend, and I don't want to have this beautiful birthday marred by rejection at the end.
As quietly as possible, I get out of bed and dress. He doesn’t stir while I pack my suitcase, not even when I stub my pinky toe on the corner of the bed. He must be worn out from all of our lovemaking over this weekend. All night last night, we kept reaching for each other.
Even if I live to celebrate seventy more birthdays, I'll never forget this one and how amazing it was. With that thought, I press a soft kiss to his forehead and walk out of the motel room.
When I get back to the house, the boys are still asleep. But my grandma is at the kitchen table sipping her tea. One of these days I’m going to get her the porch swing she’s always wanted.
“You looked like you’ve had a wild weekend,” she says when she sees me.
“It was fun,” I answer, keeping my voice carefully casual. I obsessed over Flint on the drive back to the house, promising myself that the moment I walked in the door, I’d be back to boring old Ronnie and never think about him again.
“Any chance I'm getting the scandalous details?” She looks over the top of her bifocals.
“Not a chance,” I answer and grin.
After a quick shower, I settle at the kitchen table. I’m halfway through a cup of morning tea when the boys stumble out of bed and into the kitchen.
My heart aches at the sight of them. After three days, it feels like they’ve grown so much. I hold out my arms, content when they both climb into my lap and start chatting about all of the fun things they did with grandma this weekend.
For just a second, I let myself wonder what it would be like if Flint were here too.
But I instantly dismiss the thought, reminding myself of my promise.
Besides, I've worked too hard and too long to create this peaceful life for the four of us.
I'm not going to throw that away just because a man that I'll probably never see again gave me the best sex of my life.
As soon as I think the thought, I know it's not true. It was more than just sex. There was a connection between us, an intimacy and budding trust. Something that if I were in another season of my life, I might want to nurture and let grow.
But I'm needed here, so I’m not going to allow myself a luxury like that. Instead, I focus on the boys and listening to all of their tales from the last three days.
Brock finishes his story with, “I stomped him. I stomped the spider that scared grandma. And I used my outside voice to say yippee-ki-yea, motherfucker.”
I send a glare to grandma, already knowing exactly where that came from. Sylvester might be the love of her life, but any action movie with a hot guy in the lead will make her happy. “That’s not a phrase we use.”
“Boys!” Grandma gasps. “What did I tell you about language like that?”
Branson takes a bite of his cereal, spewing the food as he says, “You said mama doesn’t have to know everything.”
“Because some secrets are the good ones,” Brock adds.
Grandma has the decency to give me a sheepish look. “I thought they were asleep.”
“Nuh-uh, you said we could watch if we were quiet and didn’t tell.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “See if I let you guys ever watch the fun movies again.”
“I think we’ve all learned a lot,” I say and clap my hands together. “Now, let’s get our day started. Lots of deliveries to do.”
Grandma waits until the boys have left the room in search of their shoes to ask me, “When does the new job start?”
“Not for about a month. Do you have enough medication to last?” I ask because money has been a little tight, but I don’t want her skipping things she needs.
As it is, her pension barely takes care of her.
Add rising medication costs with brutal rent hikes, and it’s nearly impossible for her to keep up with her bills.
It’s one more reason I’m glad we live together, and she’s not like some of her friends who are having to consider assisted living facilities.
“I’ll be fine,” she says without complaint, and I make a mental note to get her a three-month supply the next time I can afford it.
Maybe if I pick up an extra shift stocking groceries that will smooth out her finances for a week or two.
Just until I can get that new job started and have steady money flowing in for both of us.
“Well, four weeks then things will get better,” I quickly reassure her. “I haven’t had a chance to even mention it to Mira yet though I think she’ll love it. She’s been spending time between the ranch and her townhouse.”
The truth is, I’ve barely talked to Mira over the past month, and I miss my friend like crazy. But she got married, and things have been different. I knew they would be, but it still hurts.
“She seems taken with that cowboy of hers,” grandma says.
“I think he’s good to her.” I start the dishwasher just as the boys come back into the room.
I usher them through our usual routine, packing a cooler with snacks and a bag with activities they can do in the backseat.
Then I’m picking up groceries from local stores and delivering them to shoppers who have ordered through an app.
It doesn't always pay well, but it's enough to keep the lights on.
That's all I need to do until my new job starts.
I'm grateful that I had the foresight to have a bit of savings before I lost my job.
It's what's allowed us to keep going, and it’s the only reason I’m able to keep helping my grandmother.
As soon as I start working at the ranch, I'll begin rebuilding my emergency fund.
Maybe I'll get to see Flint too. I dismiss the thought instantly. It doesn't matter if Flint is at Valor Ranch. I probably won't even see him that frequently. The ranch is over thirty acres, and it takes dozens of men to run it. If anything, we'll bump into each other every now and again.
It'll have to be enough. I have kids to raise and a grandmother to look out for. I don't have time to get caught up with a cowboy whose gentle touch sets me on fire.
Within a couple of days of my birthday weekend, life returns to its simple rhythm. The days quickly morph into weeks, and I’m down to just a few days before my first day at Valor Ranch.
I’ve just brought my grandmother her favorite lunch as a surprise, a chicken salad sandwich with a fresh tomato slice on a buttery croissant, when I have to sprint to the bathroom.
The next day, it’s the smell of the meatballs that I was making for the boys for spaghetti.
The third time, it’s my breakfast that comes up.
Grandma stares at me with knowing eyes when I leave the bathroom.
“Food poisoning,” I explain, feeling queasy.
“Are you sure about that?” She presses gently. “The boys and I have eaten the same meals as you. Strange that we're not sick too.”
“You're being silly. We used protection every single time.”
“Then there's no harm in using one of those quick little tests, is there?” She asks, a gleam in her eye. She already has two great-grandchildren, but I know she wouldn’t say no to a third.
I’d love more kids. I’d always planned to have a huge family, but I don’t know how I’d manage to juggle a third one.
Still, now that she’s planted the seed, the idea won't leave me. I buy a couple of tests and tuck them in my purse, promising myself that I’ll take one in the morning. I’ll confirm I’m not pregnant then we’ll have a good laugh over our tea and go about the day.
With the plan firmly in place, I slip out of bed before my alarm clock even goes off the next morning. I set a timer on my cell phone after I’ve done my business, prepared to wait the three minutes.
Just out in the hall, I can hear the soft creak of the old hardwood floors. She doesn’t say a word, but she hums as she putters around the kitchen and puts on the kettle.
My phone dings, and I glance at the results. Just like that, my sense of normalcy is shattered. Despite the fact that I knew it was a possibility, I never imagined I'd actually see that little pink line. It feels too strange, too surreal.
I double-check the results by taking a second test. This one is from a different brand, but the results are the same. For the first time in years, I’m actually scared. I’m so used to being in control, to knowing exactly what’s going to come next, and this is something I never saw coming.
I walk numbly to the kitchen, taking a seat in a chair. Before I even realize what I’ve done, my head is in my hands and tears are rolling down my face. “What am I going to do?”
“Oh, honey,” she whispers and wraps her arms around me. She strokes my hair and reassures me that life is going to get better again, the same way that she did when I was sixteen and would wake up grieving my father in the middle of the night.
I cry until it feels like there’s no more water left in my body, until I’m hiccupping and shaking and trying to pull myself together because the boys are going to wake in a few minutes.
Grandma hands me a damp cloth to clean my face then makes a cup of hot tea and sets it in front of me. She takes the seat across from me.
“I don't know what I'm going to do. Everything is already so hard,” I admit, my voice hoarse from the tears. When I found out I was pregnant with Brock and Branson, I was over the moon. I was married to someone I thought was a good man. I had a stable job and plenty of savings in the bank. I wasn’t a stressed-out single mom with too much week left at the end of every paycheck.
Grandma takes my hand in her gnarled one. “You're going to do what every mom does. You're going to find a way.”
Something about her words snaps me back. She’s right. I’ve come from a long line of strong people who’ve watched their lives go sideways and still overcome their hardship. I don't know how I'll care for another child. But I’m not alone. I have Grandma’s support, and together, we'll figure this out.