Chapter 11
Addison
Ella clears her throat as she hands out cupcakes to everyone around the table. Hidden inside each one is the baby’s gender in pink or blue icing. I can hardly wait. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me. But if I had to guess, something in my gut says it’s a girl.
Brantley is sitting beside me. He came to church with us this morning. He’s been over for lunch or dinner before, but today was the first time he came to church. Although I didn’t know what to expect, it wasn’t really what I was hoping for.
He didn’t hold my hand when we prayed, like Jesse and Ella do.
He didn’t put his arm around me while Pastor Charlie spoke, like Dad does to Mom.
He just sorta sat there. And I’m really trying not to compare.
It was his first time there, and my family always sits towards the front.
That can be intimidating, I guess…maybe.
I think I’m just going to have to give him some time to adjust, to get used to the dynamic, but I really hope that he’ll get to that point sooner rather than later.
“Nobody try to peek!” Ella scolds. Jesse jumps at her sudden shout from directly behind him and we all burst out laughing.
Ella laughs too, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Did I scare you?” she teases, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek from behind.
Jesse chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m used to you keeping me on my toes anyway.”
“I have a question,” Cody interrupts, holding the cupcake out in front of him and inspecting all sides.
“What’s your question, Cody?” Ella asks. Her cute little belly disappears beneath the edge of the table as she sits back down in her seat.
“Who put the color in there?” he asks.
“Obviously Ella did.” Mason gestures towards her with a scoff, as if that’s obvious.
I glance at the chocolate cupcakes on all of our plates before looking closer at the soft yellow icing on mine. Yeah, they definitely aren’t professional. No offense to Ella.
“No, she didn’t,” Jesse corrects.
“Yes, I did,” Ella mutters, and Jesse turns to her, his eyebrows raised.
“You know what we’re having?!”
Her cheeks blush slightly, but she smiles. My heart beats faster but everyone else laughs. I didn’t think either of them knew. She’s better at keeping a secret than I’d ever be.
“Well, this just got interesting,” Cody says, setting the cupcake down and leaning back in his seat, his arms crossed.
I glance at Mom. She tucks her lips and looks to Dad, who snickers and takes a sip of his drink. Brantley laughs and rests his arm around the top of chair.
“Yeah.” She reaches up to rub Jesse’s back, continuing in a playful tone, “But, sweetheart, I thought I’d save us seventy bucks and make them myself.”
“El.” He shakes his head. Then freezes. “Wait. Seventy bucks?! For cupcakes?!”
“Um, yeah, that’s why—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on,” Cody cuts in, waving a hand and picking his cupcake back up. “You think these look professional, dude?”
“Hey!” Ella responds, indignant.
“Cody,” Mom warns, but everyone else is laughing.
“You try frosting twelve cupcakes after a fifteen-hour shift,” Ella retorts.
“Well, I think I deserve to find out before any of you.” Jesse points around the table and nobody disagrees.
Ella shifts in her seat and watches Jesse pick up his cupcake carefully. He grins before biting into half of it. My heart races while we all wait. Ella’s already smiling ear to ear.
His eyes light up. “Nuh-uh!” he mumbles through a full mouth, icing on his lip. Then he practically tackles Ella in a hug.
“What is it?!” I shout, and nobody else gives it a second thought as we all simultaneously pick up our cupcakes and break them open.
“A girl!” Mom is the first to exclaim after breaking hers in half.
Cheers erupt around the table, followed by the sound of chairs scraping the floor to give the happy soon-to-be parents a hug. I’m trying not to cry, but when I see Ella is, her hug is just enough for the tears to get pushed past the brim.
“I’m so excited,” I say into her hair. I’ve been surrounded by boys my whole life—aside from her and Mom. We need some girls around here. Keeps things interesting and not so testosterone-driven all the time.
Brantley doesn’t get up to hug them, but I don’t expect him to. He just gives Jesse a fist bump across the table and gets back to his cupcake.
Jesse scoops Ella right up like she weighs nothing at all.
“I knew it!” he says, spinning her around once. “I told you it was a girl!”
Ella laughs, her eyes beaming at him. “Jess, you told me it was a boy first, then twins, then a girl.”
“Okay, but still, I had a feeling, Ella,” Jesse insists, setting her back down gently.
The way he looks at her is just…they’re so in love.
Dad raises his glass of sweet tea. “To a little girl. God knew we needed one.”
Everyone starts chiming in at once, joking about names.
Brantley leans closer to me. “So, is that it?” he whispers.
I glance at him, unsure what he’s talking about. What? I mouth.
“The gender reveal thing? I thought it was gonna be a bigger to-do,” he whispers.
I shake my head and focus on the conversations happening around us. My stomach twists a little, uneasy that he’s not having a good time. I know that’s not what he said, but it’s underneath the words, behind the question.
By the time we get cleaned up from lunch and in the living room to start an episode of The Dukes of Hazzard, Brantley’s attitude seems to have shifted for the better. Or so I thought.
He’s sitting on his phone, zoned in on whatever he’s watching. Meanwhile, Jesse’s sitting over on the couch with Ella, an arm slung around her, his other hand holding hers. Both are watching the TV.
I shift slightly, inching away from Mason and rubbing my shoulder against Brantley’s. He doesn’t get the hint though, and moves further away. Probably thinking I need more space.
“No,” I mutter, grazing my hand down his arm and holding his hand. His grip is hesitant, not in a way that says he’s embarrassed to do this in front of my family, but more like he’s irritated because he only has one hand to use his phone now.
A few minutes pass by, the episode just getting good, and Brantley shifts, expressing he needs a drink. His movement is sorta abrupt, and even Mason notices. I watch him veer into the kitchen. Catching Mason’s raised eyebrow, I get up and leave the room too.
Brantley’s leaning against the counter, sipping water, his eyes glued to his phone. The volume is up just enough that I can hear the sound of a rodeo.
When he looks up to see me, he’s quick to turn it off and slip it back in his pocket. “Hey, I’m coming back in there, I was just—”
“Is there something wrong?”
His eyes squint at me, brows knit together. “No?”
“You don’t want to be here.” I cross my arms. “I can tell.”
“It’s not that. I just…” His voice trails off and he sighs with defeat. “I have this other rodeo next weekend, and I’m—”
“So you’d rather not be here so you can focus on that, right?”
He shrugs. “Yes and no.”
“Then just go.”
“It’s fine,” he argues.
“No. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to be here, especially if you don’t want to be.”
He huffs again, this time quicker, as if I just said the most offensive thing in the world. “Okay.” He sets his glass in the sink and walks back to the living room entrance. “Thanks for lunch. I’m gonna head out,” he says with a wave to everyone.
I walk him to the door, watching him put his boots on under his jeans. “You don’t need to come out,” he utters, pressing a kiss to my cheek that seems almost unbearable for him, and leaving before I can question it.
I stand still for a moment, annoyed with how this all just took a turn. I hear his truck grumble and roll down the lane.
When I get back to the living room, Mason’s got his feet up in my spot, but he moves them without hesitation.
“That was quick,” he says, but I don’t entertain it.
“Was everything okay?” Mom asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Just preoccupied with his rodeo this coming weekend.”
“Gotcha.” She drops it and looks back at the TV.
I sit there and act like everything’s fine. But it’s not. The more I replay the exchange, and then rewind and play through lunch and our time at church prior to that, it was all weird. He was distant all day.
I pick my phone up, distracting myself from everything. I check my text messages. Totally missed one from Wesley a few hours ago, asking me if everything is okay. And if that isn’t the most ironic thing ever.
Seeing he sent it soon after church ended, I put the pieces together. I didn’t go to Sunday school. That’s why he’s asking. I never miss Sunday school unless I’m not at church at all, of course, which is rare.
Me- “yup.”
Wes- “can I call you?”
My heart jumps into my throat and my skin gets clammy. Phone calls between us were never a thing until recently and I’m still not quite used to it.
I go out to the kitchen, texting him back and wondering if he means right now or later.
If he wants to talk right now, I need to go upstairs or something. My family is way too nosey for this one.
“Hey, girl,” Ella’s voice calls out.
I turn and force a quick smile. “Hey.”
“Brantley left sorta sudden?”
“Yeah. He has a rodeo next weekend and just needed to focus on that.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes venture away from mine and she steps further into the room. “What did he think of church? You said he doesn’t really go?”
“Yeah, it was fine.” I shrug. “He didn’t want to go to Sunday school, but…”
“Maybe next time,” she suggests, like she knows what I didn’t want to say.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard.
I’d talk to Ella more in depth about all this—I would—but not right now, not with the risk of everyone else hearing. It’d turn into a family meeting with everyone’s thoughts and opinions spewing out like fireworks, and then I’d just get overwhelmed and leave in tears.
“If you ever wanna talk, you know I’m literally right next door, right?” she reminds me with a soft smile that leads me to think she doesn’t want to pry.
I nod, fighting tears. Between Wesley raising questions and Ella, I’m stressed. Maybe I’m not seeing the big picture; do I have blinders on? I’m just…confused.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. My heart jumps, and when I see it’s Wes calling, I quickly excuse myself up to my room.
“What’s up?” I ask, reaching the top of the steps.
“Well…” Wes sighs but there’s a laugh on the end of it.
I quietly shut my door and sit on the edge of my bed. Even though my gut knows what this is about, I don’t want to jump the gun. I already freaked out on him once last week. I’d rather not go through all that again.
“Is something wrong?” I manage to say.
“No. I’m good. I-I just…” he stutters and pauses. I sit back on my bed, lifting my feet up and resting on my side. “I just wanted to check on you,” he finishes.
My heartbeat ramps up. “Check on me?”
“You left early.”
And there it is.
“Yeah, well, Brantley didn’t want to go to Sunday school.”
“Well, he didn’t have to come then.” His voice is tight and the line goes painfully silent. “This is the kind of stuff I’m talking about, Addison,” he adds, a hint of aggression in his voice.
The stomach drops. Is this actually happening right now? We just got past all this stuff. I thought he was going to back off.
“I didn’t want to—”
He cuts me off. “You shouldn’t be putting him before God.”
My voice tightens. “Wesley, I’m not. I just don’t want to jam the Bible down his throat.”
“Well, maybe…” His voice trails off. The silence that sits between us again is unsettling.
“Well, maybe what?” I challenge.
“I don’t know. Never mind.”
“No.” I sit up. “Just say it.”
“Well, maybe he needs it shoved down his throat so he can learn how to have some respect for you,” he retorts.
My jaw drops. It feels like I’ve entered a dream, or rather, a nightmare.
“Wesley…” I warn.
“What? It’s true. I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of trying to support this relationship you want with a guy who doesn’t even seem to care about it.”
“You need to stay out of it!”
“I have been! But you’ve gone completely blind for this jerk! I’m just trying to be a good friend!”
“Well, then, maybe we can’t be friends! If you can’t support me and what I want, then—” I stop to prevent my voice from cracking. Tears well in my eyes at my own words. I can’t believe I just said that to him.
“Friends don’t support each other’s bad decisions, Addison. I’m sorry,” he says dryly. “Goodbye.”
And the dial tone sounds.