Epilogue #2
Ash became wistful. “Before we know it, we’re walkin’ her down the aisle and losing her forever.”
Nope. Nope. I wasn’t letting that get to me today. Life was wonderful—and she was fucking fourteen!
He popped open his soda and hung his head.
I’d just give him a moment to grieve.
It was her first school dance all over again. He’d mourned that too. Same with her first date.
I wasn’t sure he knew she’d had her first kiss already.
Hallie often wanted to tell people in person, when she was ready, one by one—almost always the same four family members.
Ash, me, Grandma, Nana. Sometimes Auntie Claire.
Everyone didn’t know everything, but we all knew something.
Girl talk was important, absolutely, but we were eternally grateful that Hallie actually liked telling her dads things. Again, when she was ready.
She’d told Ash about her period first, because she’d admitted she wasn’t ready for me to go “doctor on her” and give a spiel on girls becoming women.
I could laugh about it now, but I’d been sort of embarrassed back then.
I wasn’t a medical doctor, for chrissakes.
On the other hand…maybe, just maybe, I was the one who occasionally went overboard with talking things out.
At great length. When most kids just wanted to move on with life.
At least until a girl turned thirteen and wanted to talk to Dad about this boy she’d kissed for two-and-a-half seconds behind school and what it might mean.
I let out a breath and looked out over the breathtaking view of…the parking lot.
Taking another bite of my shrimp wrap, I zeroed in on a man standing some fifty feet away outside a small diner with the worst coffee I’d ever had.
Was that Reese? He’d better not go in. He’d be disappointed with the coffee. The crispy bacon wasn’t crispy either.
“What if she moves across the country for college, Nate? Like fucking Los Angeles or San Francisco?”
Oh dear. He was spiraling now.
“What’s her favorite season?” I asked.
He finished his wrap and chewed. “Winter.”
“More than that, when it snows. We won’t lose her to sunny California,” I assured him. “All colleges on her list are northern East Coast schools.”
Yale, Brown, NYU, Columbia, Penn…
Ash scratched his eyebrow. “We’re not taking out a second mortgage.”
I furrowed my brow. “How else are we gonna help her? It took us sixteen fucking years to pay off my student loans. The interest alone will bury her for decades.”
He gave me a pointed look. “This is what the Bank of Riley is for.”
Had he lost his damn mind? Good grief!
“We’re not asking your parents to pay—”
“To borrow,” he corrected. “This will be between our kids and their grandparents. Trust me, my folks will be offended if we don’t go to them.” He picked up his soda. “It’ll be a loan taken outta their inheritance, but there won’t be any interest.”
I blew out a breath, both frustrated and deflated.
Of course, had I been in his parents’ shoes, I would’ve done the same thing.
But it still bothered me that it was so fucking expensive to provide for your children that you even had to think about second and third mortgages.
Ash and I had good careers; his business was doing so well, and I’d busted my ass in school to get my degrees.
We didn’t live extravagantly or beyond our means.
If anything, we were careful. We purposely steered our kids away from all things Disney, because one weekend in their parks could ruin a family, and Europe or Asia was out of the question.
Instead, we’d talked about eventually doing a solo trip or four. As in, Ash might take Dylan to Europe on a golf trip. I might go somewhere with Hallie. She dreamed of visiting Vienna and Tokyo. And later on, wherever Micah and Lily might want to go when they got older.
“Life is expensive,” I sighed.
“Fuckin’ tell me about it. But we’re lucky.”
I couldn’t deny that.
I leaned over and kissed his jaw, then crammed the last of my lunch into my mouth and pointed toward Reese.
“Isn’t that Reese outside the diner?”
Ash squinted, following my gaze. “Hmm, maybe. Or River. Reese prefers his own car.”
Oh. I hadn’t considered that, but now I noticed the familiar truck I’d seen so many times in Mclean.
Ash let out a sharp whistle, and a Tenley soon looked over here.
Okay, it had to be River, given that he was wearing a black T-shirt that just read “NO” in big, bold letters. Reese was more of a “let’s fuckin’ do it” kind of man.
“Definitely River,” Ash chuckled quietly.
The man came closer, hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans and a furrow between his brows.
He eyed us, the truck, the soda between Ash and me, and the napkins. “Lunch date in a parkin’ lot outside a golf store?”
“We’re classy like that,” Ash said. “We picked up a putting green for our son. What brings you out here, buddy?”
River glanced back at the diner for a beat. “Just waitin’ for Reese and Shay so we can pick up the damn weddin’ gift for the Carters.”
Ah.
“You sure?” Ash asked. Just when I knitted my brows together, wondering why he was questioning River, Ash pointed toward the diner. “That’s Reese, innit? Coming out with that older fella?”
River cursed under his breath and faced us. “So maybe I lied. Is he lookin’ over here?”
I peered slightly behind River. True enough, Reese was there too. He was getting into a rusty old truck with the other man.
“No, they’re driving off soon,” Ash responded. “Like right now.”
River blew out another breath and scowled a little. “Motherfucker.”
Ash waited him out patiently, reminding me of a few years back when he’d had a different kind of friendship with River and Reese.
The dynamic hadn’t been obvious to everyone whatsoever, but some of us had picked up on how Ash sometimes turned into the Tenleys’ big brother in a way.
Not for kink or community-related matters, but occasionally if someone looked grumpy or down in the dumps.
Ash was quick to ask what was wrong—and dig deeper—and Reese and River hadn’t shied away from it like they usually did with others.
I believed it had to do with Ash’s patience.
The questions might come quickly, but he had endless patience for the answers.
“It’s our old man,” River muttered. “He reaches out to Reese every few years, ’cause he knows I’d tell him to go to hell.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t see me here.”
“’Course not,” Ash replied. “Want me to call you later?”
River shrugged with one shoulder, visibly ready to get out of here. “Nah, it’s okay.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later,” Ash stated.
Another scowl appeared. “Then why did you fuckin’ ask?”
Ash smiled. “It’s important to give the kids the option to say the right thing first.”
River’s scowl deepened, and he turned and walked away without another word.
I rubbed Ash’s leg. “They don’t have much family, do they?”
Ash shook his head. “I’ll make sure they come over for dinner soon. I think Shay has brothers Hallie’s and Mikey’s ages—thereabouts. They can bring them too.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I love you. You’re a good man.”
It was still too soon to discuss college and expensive instructors, but Dylan was certainly serious about his dream to go pro.
He’d been thrilled when Ash and I had given him the new putting green, and he and Ash spent an entire day setting it up on the front lawn.
It was supposed to become one with the lawn, except no new grass would grow from underneath.
Dylan’s job would be to maintain the artificial grass, keep it free from dirt and such.
One Saturday at the end of May, Dylan was so focused on practicing with Ash that I brought dinner out to them. I’d made pizza, so everyone was scattered anyway. Lily and Micah ate in front of the TV, Hallie ate in her room, and I supposed Dylan and Ash could eat outside.
It’d been a busy day, and my parents would be here early tomorrow.
But considering we’d all worked up a sweat, something told me we’d crash early too.
Ash and Micah had started spending more time together on their bikes.
Every morning on the weekends, about half an hour, but usually more.
Every afternoon, once homework was done. Dylan tagged along sometimes too.
After filling two plates with pizza, I grabbed two sodas too and then walked outside.
Ash could say he was on the fence about Dylan’s vision for the future, but he couldn’t hide his hopes. He wanted this for Dylan, partly because he could be a part of the process as a dad and big supporter.
Helping out with homework had kinda stopped being Ash’s thing once Dylan and Hallie had reached high school.
He could kick ass in Trivial Pursuit, he had what Hallie called a “practical math brain,” he loved history, and…
that was where it ended. He wouldn’t go near Hallie’s English assignments or any of her AP classes.
He was like one of those musicians who were self-taught.
Who could play like a legend without having a single clue how to read sheet music.
And it made Ash take a step back and leave those things to me.
But sports? Ash knew sports. He wasn’t picky either.
Recently, I found him studying both golf and chess on his phone when we were getting ready for bed or winding down to a movie.
I paused on the porch upon seeing Dylan concentrating on his next move.
He and Ash were positioned on opposite sides of the green, with Dylan finding his aim and Ash squatting down to…
do whatever he was doing. Golf wasn’t my area of expertise.
When someone had golf on the TV, I usually only saw middle-aged men staring at a hole in the ground.
“Remember your knees, buddy,” Ash murmured.
Right. One mustn’t forget the knees.
Dylan loosened his stance a fraction, then carefully hit the ball.
He sank it.
I smiled.
“Fantastic,” Ash praised. “Try that again.”
That was my cue.