8. Reed #2
“No, Dad. Everything’s fine,” I answer when she doesn’t.
“The kids are being weird,” she finally says.
Dad pats her on the behind before he drops down into his seat. “That’s not new, sweetheart. None of them are normal.”
“Normal’s overrated,” Lee says, using two hands to carry a bowl of French fries so big it could feed an army.
“You know us,” Cora says, grabbing a burger off the platter, ignoring the salad.
“Everyone needs some salad. You need veggies,” Ma says as she takes the seat next to our father. “Everything’s fresh from the garden.”
“French fries are veggies,” Lee tells her.
“Covered in grease,” Frankie replies.
“Which makes them taste great,” he argues. “But they’re still a veggie.”
“Salad,” Mom commands, leaving no room for argument.
If I could, I’d eat the entire bowl leaf by leaf just to stop the conversation that is going to happen afterward.
An hour later, the table and dishes all cleaned, Brinley damn near drags me toward the firepit.
“What’s going on?” Frankie says, jogging behind us to catch up. “Why are we going to the firepit?”
“We aren’t,” I tell her. “Go back in the house.”
I don’t know who I’m kidding. Frankie doesn’t listen, especially not to me.
“We’re finally going to talk about Vegas,” Brinley informs her.
Frankie rubs her hands together like she’s hungry again, but this time, it’s not for food, but information. “Fucking finally.”
This is my idea of a nightmare. All five of my nosy-ass siblings sticking their noses in my business. I don’t bother opening my mouth to argue as Brinley’s grip stays firm around my wrist while she hauls ass toward the stone firepit surrounded by six Adirondack chairs.
“Wait up!” Lee yells from behind us.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter.
“The gang’s all here, and we’re about to get the dirt,” Frankie says. “This is epic.”
“An epic clusterfuck,” I whisper.
“What’s going on?” Lee asks, slightly winded by the time he catches up to us.
“Firepit. Now,” Brinley replies.
Jasper and Cora are already in their seats, heads buried in their phones. Jasper better hope I don’t get a moment alone with him today because I’m liable to give him a black eye or maybe even two.
No one else says a word to one another until Brinley marches me to my seat and pushes me down. “Talk,” she commands as Frankie and Lee take their seats too.
“What’s going on?” Lee asks again.
“Shouldn’t we light a fire or something?” I ask, wanting to not talk about my marriage as long as possible.
“Stop stalling,” Brinley tells me with a smack of the back of her hand from her chair next to me.
“I’m clueless here,” Lee says.
“Not surprising,” Frankie says with a roll of her eyes.
Cora clears her throat. “Reed got married in Vegas.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, all eyes slide to me. Not Jasper’s. This news isn’t a surprise to him… Asshole.
“What in the…” Frankie whispers, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Wow,” Lee adds.
“I’m getting divorced,” I tell them, hoping it’s enough of an answer and that we can drop the entire conversation.
“Who is she?” Cora asks.
“How did it happen?” Brinley adds.
“Have you talked to her since?” Frankie asks.
“No one you know. I was drunk. And yes,” I reply, hitting all three questions at once. “Are we done?”
Brinley hits me again.
“Damn, Brin. Stop. I only have so much patience for the physical abuse,” I growl.
“So, go tattle on me,” she challenges, knowing damn well I won’t and can’t. If I do, she’ll rat me out to our parents.
“How does someone get drunk and married in Vegas?” Lee asks, leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “I thought that shit only happened in movies.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
“Did she know what she was doing? Was she trying to trap you?” Frankie asks.
I shake my head. “She was drunk too. I guess her friend dared us. I don’t know. Neither of us remembers shit.”
“So how do you know you’re married?” Brin asks.
“He is,” Jasper throws in.
“You’ve done enough,” I tell him, pointing my finger at him. “Zip it.”
Jasper chuckles as he pretends to zip his lips.
“Does she know about the ranch?” Brinley asks. “Maybe she’s after you for your money.”
“She’s not that type,” I tell my sister.
“Does she know about the ranch?” she asks again.
“Yeah, but…”
“She wants a piece of this,” Brinley says. “Why else would someone marry you without knowing you?”
“She doesn’t want the ranch. She’s a city girl.”
“Don’t think she wants this dusty ranch when she has two famous parents,” Jasper adds casually, like this information is common knowledge, which it isn’t.
“Excuse me?” I ask him, glaring at my brother.
“I thought I was supposed to zip it?” he challenges with a raised chin.
“Don’t be a dick,” I say. “You’re already on my shit list.”
“Fine,” he sighs, brushing his hands together like they’re somehow dirty. The man is a clean freak and hasn’t had dirt anywhere on him since he was seven. “Her mom is a big-time author, and her dad used to play professional football.”
I lean back in my chair. Her name is Amelia Gallo. Gallo’s common enough, but never in a million years would I have ever thought her dad was the Vinnie Gallo. Hall of Fame player for Chicago from when I was little.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“Jackpot,” Lee says, making horns with his fingers. “Only Reed would marry a rich chick by accident.”
“She’s not rich. Maybe her parents are, but that doesn’t mean she is,” Cora says.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, because it doesn’t. “It was a mistake, and we both want out.”
“Is that who you’re always texting?” Cora asks. “I see you smiling at your phone all the time. It’s annoying.”
“You’re annoyed to see me happy?” I ask, avoiding answering the question.
“No, but it’s unlike you,” she answers.
“Well, you’re in luck. The paperwork is ready, and I can have it served to her by the end of the week,” Jasper adds to the conversation.
This is news to me. I didn’t know we’d be ready this soon. “Served?” I ask, unfamiliar with the legal process.
“We hire someone to put the papers in her hands so she can’t say she never received them.”
“She’s not that way,” I tell him.
“How do you know what way she is?” Frankie asks.
“Because she wants out as much as I do,” I reply.
“Not that it matters. If she doesn’t contest the divorce and doesn’t show up for court, the judge will still rule in favor of ending the marriage,” Jasper says. “Only one of you has to attend the hearing.”
“I’ll take the paperwork to her,” I tell him. “Being served sounds too impersonal and cold.”
“You like her,” Brinley says, staring at me like she can read my mind.
Do I like Amelia? Way more than I should.
The last three months haven’t helped either.
I was crazy about the girl in Vegas, and that feeling has only deepened over time.
Which is wild because I haven’t been in her presence since we parted at the hotel.
I never thought a text or a phone call would mean so much to me, but she’s become part of my day—which will soon come to an end.
“I don’t. Not enough to be my wife,” I protest, and maybe my reply is a little too stiff because I can tell from the look on my sisters’ faces that they don’t believe me.
“Where’s she live?” Frankie asks.
“Chicago,” Jasper answers for me.
“He’s going to go to Chicago and never come back,” Lee says.
Brinley laughs. “Can you picture him—” she pitches her thumbs toward me “—in the big city for the rest of his life?”
“You know we all love Chicago,” Cora reminds her. “Best shopping in the country.”
“Debatable,” Brinley replies, “Though, I do love it there. But that doesn’t mean the cowboy can survive in the city.”
“I’m not moving to Chicago. I’m going there to give her the divorce papers. She can sign them and save herself a trip halfway across the country.”
“You’re never coming home,” Cora says, her voice soft and sad.
“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing my hand down my face. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my life.”
And it is. South Dakota is everything to me. It is my home and the only place I’ve ever wanted to be.
“Sure, brother,” Frankie says, “Until you see the girl who makes you smile again.”
“Never happening,” I tell her, hoping the next time I see Amelia, the way my stomach flips when her texts come in disappears.
One trip to end things on a high note, making her a happy memory of a crazy time in my life.