Chapter 17
When Toby knocked on the DaSilvas’ front door, Sam came at him, tattooed fists raised. “Been fucking my little sister, huh?”
Toby, exhausted from a seven-hour flight, four hours in Bali, then another seven-hour flight back to Melbourne, didn’t have the energy to lie. “Yeah.”
Sam had never been what he’d call a ‘relaxed person,’ but when she bared her teeth at him, all the hair on his neck stood on end. She looked genuinely ready to take a swing at him. He glanced around for Edgar, but he was nowhere to be seen; probably still in the cab, saying goodbye to the driver with whom he’d got on like a house on fire.
“‘Yeah,’ is it?” Sam hissed. “Been using condoms, smart guy?”
Toby’s fear for his nose cartilage vanished. Everything vanished. He stared at Tabby’s sister, dumbfounded. “What?”
“You fucking moron. You fucking useless fucking…” Sam drew back her knuckles, but before she could connect, a man called out.
“Sammy,” Edgar said, heaving his battered suitcase onto the lawn. “What’s all this, now?”
Sam’s about-face from rage to disbelief would have been funny in any other circumstance. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went so wide they might have fallen from their sockets.
“Dad?” she said in a voice ten octaves higher. “Daddy?”
Edgar laughed. “Yes. It’s me. It’s so wonderful to see you, Sammy.”
He opened his arms, but Sam just continued to stare at him as though she couldn’t believe her overly stretched eyes. “Is it really you?”
“Yes. Of course. Now, come hug your old man.”
Sam bumped Toby sideways as she rushed into her father’s arms. He barely felt it. His head was teeming with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. But there was only one thing he could think of, which accounted for Sam’s anger and her question about condoms. Either he’d given Tabby something—which, no, he’d got tested—or…
He couldn’t even bring himself to consider the other option. The weight of it felt roughly the size of Mount Everest.
He was knocked sideways a second time as Nicole, screeching loudly enough to break the sound barrier, ran down the steps and threw herself at her father. “Dad, you’re home! You’re back! You’re home! You’re back!”
Still laughing, Edgar kissed the side of Nicole’s head, hugging both girls at once. “Oh, Nikki, I’ve missed you so much. How are you?”
“I’m awful,” Nicole wailed. “But I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so happy to see you!”
Dimly, Toby knew he should get out of the way and let the twins enjoy their reunion in peace. He headed for the front of the house and began collecting the bags the driver had left on the curb. Edgar had only needed two. The rest of his things remained in Bali, where “my students can take the art stuff, and everything else doesn’t matter.”
Edgar DaSilva was a strange guy, but there was no denying he made it work. Despite Toby’s fears that they’d have to sleep in Ngurah Rai International, they had been able to get two last-minute Qantas flights to Melbourne. The plane had been almost empty, allowing them a row each to stretch out on, and Edgar had quickly made friends with the flight attendants who plied them with free coffee and snacks. Toby had been too nervous to eat or sleep, but he’d been very grateful when Edgar had recognised a security guard he’d once tattooed at Tullamarine Airport, and the guy led them through customs ahead of a massive flight from LA.
Everything seemed to… work for Edgar. Work in a way he’d only known things to work for one other person: Tabby. She, alone of Edgar’s three daughters, seemed to have inherited his ability to charm anyone and everyone, and move through chaotic places like a knife in sand.
At least she had before he’d come along.
“Don’t worry about Tabby,” Edgar had told him in the cab from the airport. “It’s hard to watch someone you love struggle, but pain is a significant path to growth. Hang in there.”
Toby hadn’t told Edgar he was in love with Tabby, but he guessed that was a moot point, considering he’d voluntarily flown to Bali to recover her dad at a moment’s notice. What mattered was that, according to Sam, he was a huge fucking idiot, and something had happened to Tabby because of him. Something massive.
“Where are the boys?” Edgar asked as he and the twins climbed the stairs to the house. The girls refused to let go of him, so they looked like they were competing in a six-legged race. “Where are Scotty and Noah?”
“Who cares?” Nicole said. “You’re home now.”
“Nicole,” their dad warned. “Are you mad at Noah for being in contact with me? Because that’s my fault. You know he’s dedicated and?—”
“He’s my husband!”
“He wasn’t when I asked him to be my point of contact,” Edgar said calmly. “Go on, call him. Tell him and Scott to crawl out of whatever kennel you girls put them in, and we’ll talk this all out.”
Sam jerked a thumb at Toby. “What about Sheriff Woody?”
“Toby can come inside,” Edgar said, smiling warmly.
“Dad, do you even know what he’s done to Tabby?”
Toby’s guts knotted, but Edgar’s smile didn’t dim an iota. “I know he rode out to the middle of Ubud to find me, and I know he’s a good man who loves your sister. Don’t be unkind, Sammy. It’ll only come back to you later.”
Which was how Toby found himself sitting on the DaSilvas’ squashy blue couch, drinking a cup of tea with shaky hands. Someone, Edgar probably, had laced it with enough cognac to kill a miniature horse. He sipped gratefully without tasting, glad for the distraction. The half-cocker spaniel, half-rottweilers he’d gifted the DaSilva family milled about—Mopsy’s last round of puppies and, for his money, the most beautiful. Their gold-brown eyes and soft fur shone, and if he weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, he’d have loved to take them for a walk.
Sam, Nicole, and Edgar sat at the dining table nearby, discussing where Tabby might have gone.
“She won’t be far,” Edgar kept repeating. “She’s still in Victoria.”
No one questioned how he could possibly know this. Sam and Nicole were both crying, which shocked Toby in and of itself. Both twins had always been so composed. Fiery and outspoken, but self-assured and utterly in control. It was strange to hear them confessing to Edgar that they’d let Tabby down, seeking his reassurance as though they were still little girls.
“We dropped the fucking ball, Dad,” Sam sobbed. “Mum fucked me up in the head, and I wasn’t paying enough attention. Tabby was in a bad way, and we didn’t look after her.”
“And I was such an asshole,” Nicole wailed. “I lost my temper the night she left. I hurt her, and I wish I could take it back. I might never see her again?—”
“You will,” Edgar said in his quiet, audiobook narrator voice. “Your sister loves you both, and she loves that man on our couch…”
Everyone glanced at him, and Toby attempted a smile that made Nicole wrinkle her nose. She seemed determined to pretend he wasn’t there, and considering everything, Toby felt like he was getting off lightly. He didn’t need both twins threatening him with violence.
Tabby can’t be pregnant, he kept thinking. She was on birth control. We were so safe. We tried to be so safe. She just can’t be.
“… Tabby’ll be back before you know it,” Edgar said. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you with your mother. That must have been incredibly painful.”
“She’s a fucking cunt,” Sam sobbed.
“She is who she is, Sammy. And I don”t think she”ll be back if things happened at the café like you said they did.”
“Because she’s a fucking cunt!”
“Sammy,” Edgar said quietly. “Do you want a relationship with your mother?”
“Christ, no!”
“Then you must know how painful that is for Debbie?—”
“She left us!” Nicole interrupted. “She left us, and she never came back!”
“And she tried to kidnap Tabby,” Sam snarled. “Then she came back and made Tabby tattoo her, and then she tried to lure her away with all this ‘you’re just like me’ bullshit?—”
“Girls.”
Edgar didn’t say it angrily or even raise his voice, but both twins fell silent. Edgar picked up his tea. He seemed to grow older as he swirled the liquid inside the cup, the wrinkles beside his eyes and mouth deepening.
“Deborah failed you as a mother,” he said quietly. “She hurt you all badly, and for my part in that, I’ll never stop feeling guilty. But she’s already serving her sentence for what she did. She’s living in solitary confinement in her mind.”
“She doesn’t have to pay child support to her mind,” Sam snapped.
“We don’t need the money, Sammy. We already have everything we need, don’t we?”
Sam and Nicole nodded, fresh tears brewing in their eyes.
“We’rethe lucky ones. I know it doesn’t always feel that way, but it’s true. This house…” Edgar waved a hand at the modest kitchen. “… is our home. We have each other. We have a home. I won’t ask you to forgive your mother, but you don’t have to punish her either. There’s no worse punishment than having no family or place to call home.”
Toby thought of his empty beachside mansion. The waves crashing ceaselessly on his doorstep, the unbearable silence. He thought of his parents’ house, full of gory paintings of hellfire and even more unbearable silence, except when puppies yelped, torn away from their mother too soon.
He hung his head, pressure building in the backs of his eyes.
Please, he thought. Let Tabby come home. Let me be her home. Me and all these decent people. Let her come back, and I’ll make a life for her so beautiful and safe that she’ll never want to leave. Even if she doesn’t love me like I love her, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be her best friend. I’ll be anything she needs. I just want her to come home.
He tried to cry quietly but must have sniffed or something, because all the DaSilvas turned to look at him again.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam demanded.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Ignore me.”
“Why would we do that?” Edgar said. “Come over here, Toby. Take a seat with your sisters.”
Toby blinked at Sam and Nicole. “I’m not…? We’re not...?”
“Oh, everyone’s family in this house,” Edgar said. “I’ll go make us some breakfast. Or is it dinnertime? I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Breakfast burritos all around, I think. And some coffee. Nicole, where have you put my French press? Or did you finally throw it out in my absence?”
Scott and Noah arrived just as they were about to eat. Nicole threw herself into her husband’s arms, and they kissed so long and deep that Edgar cleared his throat. Noah, who clearly hadn’t seen Edgar standing in the doorway, frypan in hand, blushed to the roots of his shaved head.
A bashful biker, Toby thought. Now I’ve seen everything.
“Hi, Ed,” Noah said, looking like he wanted to die. “How, uh, was the flight?”
Edgar looked highly amused. “Fantastic. Burrito?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“And Mr Sanderson!” Edgar said, rounding on Scott with delight. “I haven’t seen you since you finished school, mate!”
As scared as Toby was about what he might have done to Tabby, it was still pretty hilarious seeing thirty-something Scott round his shoulders and duck his head like a teenager. “Uh, hi, Mr DaSilva. H-h-how are you?”
“Excellent,” Edgar said warmly. “And what about you? Are you still playing the drums? You’re obviously still sweet on Sammy…”
“Dad,” Sam groaned. “Stop!”
“Stop what?” Edgar said, nonplussed. “He always liked you! We used to talk about it, didn’t we, Scott? Back me up!”
Scott looked like he’d rather back up into an early grave, and Toby couldn’t help laughing.
“Traitor,” Scott muttered as he sat down beside him. “You wait, Tennant. It’ll be your turn soon.”
They all ate at the scratched dining table, Sam and Scott holding hands, Nicole practically in Noah’s lap. He and Edgar were the odd men out, and there was a conspicuously empty chair where Tabby should have been, cracking jokes and laughing her gorgeous laugh.
“I wish we could call her,” Sam said, as though reading his mind. “Any updates?”
Everyone checked their phones. There was no news.
“She’ll be back,” Edgar said for the umpteenth time, pouring everyone fresh coffee. It was bizarre how much more relaxed everyone was with him around; Noah smiling and Scott eating mountains of food.
“Me and this bastard have been living on Schnitz,” Scott said, tilting his head at Noah. “Subway for lunch and crumbed battery hens for dinner.”
“Bachelor life sucks, huh?” Sam teased. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you kept secrets from me, Galahad?”
With a look that said he’d punish her for that, but in a way they’d both enjoy, Scott swallowed his mouthful of burrito. “Either way, it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal. Noah isn’t one for regular washing, either.”
“No point,” Noah grunted. “Wasn’t sleeping next to you, was I?”
“Oh, Noah never wants to shower when he’s sad,” Nicole said, brushing a hand over Noah’s forehead. “It makes him feel all vulnerable.”
“It makes him smell like a dumpster full of cigarette ash,” Scott said, and everyone laughed. Everyone except Toby, which Scott noticed. He pushed his empty plate away and stood from the table. “Why don’t we go for a walk, Toby?”
He wanted to refuse, especially since everyone got very quiet, very quickly, but had no idea how to manage it without looking like an idiot. “Okay.”
He and Scott went out to the garden and stood among the wood carvings and exotic plants left behind by Edgar. Toby thought back to the family barbecue he’d once attended here when he’d first learned Noah and Edgar were in contact. Tabby had been wearing a snapback, and they’d finished the night on the roof together, talking about what constellations looked the most like penises…
“So,” Scott said. “Someone told you?”
Toby’s insides heaved. “Yes. No. Not really. Sam asked if we’d been using condoms. Me and Tabby. What… what’s happening?”
Scott’s panicked expression told him everything he needed to know.
“She can’t be! She isn’t…?”
“She is,” Scott said quietly. “She’s pregnant.”
Toby felt like he was back on the plane, the wheels lifting off the earth and into the rattling void of space. If Tabby was pregnant, if she was going to have his baby, he was going to be a dad. He looked down as though his own body might have changed. He was twenty-six, and he’d never seriously thought about fatherhood. He’d imagined having kids with Tabby one day. But ‘eightish months from now’ wasn’t ‘one day.’ It was really fucking soon.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Jesus.”
“I’m sorry you found out like this,” Scott said. “I didn’t tell you at your house because I didn’t want to be the one to give the news, but if you know a little, I’d rather you knew everything.”
“Everything?” Toby’s mouth was dry, his stomach wrestling with his breakfast burrito like an alligator. “What else’s happened?”
“Nicole found a test Tabby had taken in the bathroom the night she left your house,” Scott said heavily. “Nicole was distraught because she’d just lost her baby, and, of course, she had no idea Tabby was even seeing anyone. It got ugly on all accounts, and Tabby left not long afterwards. But Nicole’s beside herself with guilt now she’s had time to work through her feelings.”
Toby remembered Nicole’s tear-streaked face as she told Edgar, over and over, that it was her fault that Tabby left. He remembered Noah standing dead-eyed in his foyer, talking about how he’d never be a dad.“She can’t blame herself,” he croaked. “Nicole, I mean. She and Noah are having a fucking terrible time.”
“They are, but it’s still a mess.” Scott’s expression became grave. “Again, I don’t want to frighten you, but you need the facts. No one knows what Tabby is thinking, but Nicole is terrified that she might do… something. About the baby. Because she feels so guilty for getting pregnant. Because she doesn’t think it’s fair.”
Toby’s internal plane entered deep turbulence, rolling up and back in the open air, death just a whisper away. He sat on the grass, palms pressed to the earth as his whole world tilted. He’d barely processed the idea of becoming a dad, let alone unbecoming a dad. “I don’t… I can’t…”
“I know, mate.” Scott knelt behind him, wrapping his arms around his chest. “I know it’s fucking huge. I can’t imagine how you feel.”
As Scott hugged him, Toby’s world continued to spin. If Tabby didn’t want their baby… but what if she did want their baby? Or didn’t want to want their baby? What if she never wanted to come near him again because he’d put her in this position with his stupid fucking hyperactive sperm? What if she?—
“Hello, boys.”
They turned to see Edgar walking across the grass, his grey-brown hair glinting in the sun. He dropped to his knees on Toby’s left side and pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’ll manage it,” he said in a voice so sure Toby wanted to scream.
“You don’t… you can’t fuckin’ know that.”
“No,” Edgar said calmly. “But you do, don’t you, Toby?”
The question slid through and around every other thought in Toby’s overheated brain, penetrating deep. And the answer came just as deep and clear as though it had always been there.
Yes.
Yes, he could manage. He’d always managed. His parents. Mopsy. Cryptocurrency. Work. The only thing he’d ever really screwed up was his relationship with Tabby, and he wouldn’t do that again. He’d be honest even if it hurt, vulnerable even when it stung. He’d fight for Tabby’s future and his own, and if he was going to be a parent… well, he couldn’t possibly be worse than his mum and dad. He didn’t even own any gruesome Christian art. And he had money; enough to pay for anything Tabby and the baby might need. But he couldn’t think as though the kid was a foregone conclusion. It was Tabby’s decision. All he cared about was making sure she knew she was loved.
“I can manage,” he told Edgar. “I can do it.”
“Never in doubt.” Edgar stood, offering Toby a rough palm. “Up you get.”
Toby accepted the hand, and Edgar followed it up with a hug. Everyone said he was a great dad, but now Toby understood. His strength wasn’t in his support, but in how he showed you how to support yourself. He’d worried Edgar leaving for Bali was something like what his parents had done, fleeing for the Philippines without him, but it wasn’t that. Tabby’s dad had gone to make space for his kids, and now they needed him, he’d come back without question to lend his support.
“So,” Toby said, wiping his face. “What should we?—”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he wrenched it out, praying it was Tabby. But Maisy’s name was flashing on the screen. Thinking that if something was wrong with Mopsy, he’d take an axe to Edgar’s wood sculptures, he answered. “Maisy, what’s up?”
“Hullo, dahling,” she said in a voice that meant she was definitely a few wines in. “Doggie’s fine, everything’s fine. I just thought you should know I’ve found your lovely Tabitha.”
Toby’s knees buckled. “Mais—what? Where are you?”
“Having tea at the Jackalope Hotel, dahling. Excellent scones. Very fresh cream, you know?”
“Maisy,” he growled. “Where’s Tabby?”
“Right here, dahling. She’s hilarious. I see why you’re so besotted with her. I haven’t laughed this much in years.”
Scott grabbed Toby’s arm and almost yanked it out of the socket. “Tabby? You’ve found Tabby?”
He nodded frantically, and Scott bolted for the house, waving his arms like an inflatable balloon man. “Girls! Noah! We’ve found Tabby!”
“Wonderful,” Edgar said. “Fantastic.”
“Hang on.” Toby pressed his phone hard against his face. “You’re not fucking with me, are you, Mais? You’ve really got her? She’s with you?”
Maisy sighed. “Tabitha, you’ll have to give him proof of life yourself, dahling. He sounds as though he won’t believe me otherwise.”
There was a rustle, and then Tabby’s quiet but entirely real voice came through the phone. “Hey, Toberson.”
“Tabby!” he bellowed. “TABBY, I FUCKING LOVE YOU! COME HOME, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”
A soft giggle. “Thanks, I, um, feel extremely… well, I feel a lot of things, but that is one of them.”
Toby didn’t have time to process what the heck that might mean.
“YOUR DAD’S HERE,” he bellowed. “HE’S BACK FROM BALI AND WE NEED TO COME AND SEE YOU!”
There was a yelp and a flat shuffling sound.
“She dropped the phone, dahling,” Maisy said a few seconds later. “Oh, now she’s crying quite a lot. Tissues are over there, dahling. I’ll tell you what, Toby. I’ll text you our location, and then we can all meet at the beach. We’re only an hour and a half from Melbourne, so it shouldn’t take long. Ta-ta, dahling. Drive responsibly.”
* * *
Toby sweat bulletsthe whole way to Rye. Edgar was driving, humming along to the radio like he hadn’t been living in Indonesia ten hours earlier. Sam and Scott rode in the back, and they were being followed by Noah in his van, along with Nicole and all six dogs. Toby wasn’t sure why they’d decided to bring them, but he suspected Nicole—who’d also packed a first aid kit, a complete picnic and what looked like half of Tabby’s wardrobe—was in panic mode.
“I want her to have everything she needs,” she kept saying as Noah tried to wrestle a tub of brownies off her. “I need to give her whatever she needs!”
Toby understood how Nicole felt because his brain kept proposing equally batshit ideas. He could give Tabby a million dollars. He could give her his Abbotsford house. He could give her a fucking space station. Sue Elon Musk into building one for her on the back of some investigative digging into Tesla’s finances...
“It’ll be okay,” Edgar said over and over again. “She’s fine, and everything’s going to be fine.”
The car had barely pulled into the beachside parking lot when Toby flung open the door and ran, his Timberlands sinking into the sand. He spotted Maisy first, sipping champagne on a beach chair. And in front of her, standing with her feet in the surf, was a gorgeous brunette. She wore a pink sundress, and her thick brown hair flowed down her back like a princess.
“Tabby!” he bellowed, still running. “Tabby!”
She turned and looked at him, then smiled and held out her arms. Even as he sprinted, Toby understood. This was the beginning. Edgar was here, Nicole was soothed, Sam was calmed, Scott and Noah had been reinstated to their places as beloved partners, and Maisy was watching. Everyone he needed was in one place—a home and people to have it with.
Someone released the dogs, and as he neared Tabby, they overtook him, splashing into the water and whining excitedly. Tabby laughed, ducking their wet paws. She had one hand pressed to her stomach, and he knew she was still pregnant.
Yes, every part of him said. Fuck yes.
He reached her, bent low, wrapped his arms around her hips and lifted her high.
“Dirty Dancing!” Tabby crowed. “We’re doing Dirty Dancing!”
Toby wasn’t sure what she meant, but he didn’t fucking care. Water sank into his boots and soaked his jeans as he spun her around slowly, the dogs jumping all over him. He could hear Scott laughing. Nicole telling Sam to take a picture, Maisy introducing herself to Edgar, asking him how old he was in a voice he’d never heard before.
But none of it mattered. Tabby’s blue eyes were soft as she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him. She was soft as roses, warm as forever. Then, her hand brushed his T-shirt sleeve, pushing it back so she could see his tattoo.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I didn’t know how I was going to say it, but now you’re here, it’s easy. I love you. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” he said. “Always.”
They kissed again to the cheers and boos from the people behind them. Then Sam started trying to corral the dogs, and Maisy proposed drinks at an oyster bar, and Nicole said she’d forgotten her jacket, and Edgar asked if anyone minded if he had a smoke ‘of something other than tobacco,’ but Toby ignored that too. He looked into Tabby’s beautiful face, memorising the smile that said she was glad he’d come, but she was ready to go home.