Chapter 22
Rose
I’m not sure whose face registers more shock at Tank’s words, which clearly just tumbled out of his mouth—his, mine, or Chelsea’s.
Maybe it’s John, who for once, isn’t looking fully in control. His jaw hangs open as he stares in disbelief at Tank.
Who, for his part, looks like he can’t believe it either.
“I mean,” Tank says, tugging me a little closer.
Maybe as a shield? “What I wanted to say, actually—uh.” He pauses, shakes his head once and then lifts his eyes, meeting John’s, then Mason’s, Chelsea’s, and finally, mine.
The fire in them makes my stomach flutter.
“Well, obviously, that wasn’t what I meant to say right now at our first meeting.
But now that I’ve said it, there’s no point in taking it back.
Because I mean it, Rose. I do love you.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and I’m grinning like a complete fool.
Or, maybe it’s more the smile of a woman old enough to know her mind, know what she wants, and to know what love is, even when it arrives on an unexpected high-speed train crashing right into the side of the station.
But before I can tell Tank that I love him too, a few things happen at once.
Chelsea squeals and tries to hug Tank and me both at once, John raises his voice to say, “Hang on just a minute.”
And a dark-haired woman I recognize as Harper emerges from the crowd of people, takes one startled look at Chelsea, Tank, and me, and promptly keels over in a dead faint.
My loft is closer than Tank’s, so we all head there to get away from the crowd.
Chase, who thankfully caught Harper before she hit the floor, carries her, with Tank fussing alongside them.
John stomps silently beside me, while Chelsea and Mason trail behind us, engaged in a furiously whispered conversation.
Knowing Tank’s family, they won’t be far behind us. I’m not sure if they saw Harper collapse, but if not, they’ll hear about it any second.
My place still smells a little stale, even though I officially moved back in yesterday morning.
I need to invest in candles or maybe open the windows.
But I’m sure no one else particularly cares about the smell as Chase carefully sets Harper down on the couch and Tank grabs a bottled water from my fridge, carrying it over to Harper, who is sleepily blinking open her eyes.
“You okay?” Tank asks, taking a seat next to her. “Are you sick?”
I know the answer to that question based on the way Chase tries to stifle a grin.
But Tank isn’t putting the pieces together.
Harper says, “Not sick. Though I’m definitely not feeling good. This isn’t how I planned to tell you …”
Her eyes shift to Chelsea, who almost seems to be hiding behind Mason all the way across the room. Chase follows Harper’s gaze, and I don’t understand the expression on his face. Or why Harper clams up.
“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about why you’re here,” Chase says, after an awkward moment. “It’s Chelsea, right?”
“Yes—Chelsea’s my daughter,” I say. “Do y’all already know each other?”
“You could say that,” Harper says with a little laugh.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Chelsea says to me, then peeks around Mason to look at Chase and Harper. “And for the record, I’m still so sorry about everything.”
“Sorry about what?” Tank asks, looking between his daughter and mine. “And what does this have to do with you passing out, Harper?”
She looks down, screwing the top on her water bottle. “The two things are unrelated,” she says, then stops.
I glance over toward my daughter, but I can’t see her through Mason, who has his arms crossed in front of her like he’s standing guard.
Chase and Harper don’t seem to know him, so I can only assume the frantic whispering on the walk here was Chelsea filling him in.
There’s obviously some kind of awkward history between Chelsea, Harper, and Chase, which is unfortunately now getting tangled up with what I think was supposed to be Harper telling her dad she’s pregnant.
If ever there was a way to press a reset button, I’d like to do so now. Maybe ask my kids to come to Sheet Cake on a different night. Although whatever this is, there’s no getting around it. Might as well deal with it now.
Chase sighs, slinging an arm around Harper’s shoulders and pulling her close. “Chelsea and I went on a date a few years ago. And she went on a camping trip Harper and I were the guides for.”
“Wait—the camping trip?” I ask. The pieces are starting to come together, and I honestly wish they weren’t.
Chelsea finally emerges from behind Mason, who keeps one arm anchored around her waist. A good idea, since she looks like she’s about to run. Meanwhile, John seems to be building steam like a kettle.
“Yes. The camping trip,” Chelsea says, wincing. “The one with the skunk.”
John puts his hands on his hips, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s wishing it would fall on him. Tank glances between Harper and Chelsea, recognition dawning on his face.
Clearly, no one in this room has forgotten the skunk incident, though we’ve heard different versions of the same story. If we were to line them up, I wonder how different they’d be.
The important points seem to be the same.
I remember Chelsea talking a few years ago about a date she went on with a guy she really liked.
She thought it went well, but she didn’t want to get too excited.
The next day, Chelsea was set to go on a camping trip with friends, and who just so happened to be her guide? The guy from her date.
Whose name I’d forgotten until this precise moment—Chase. His name was Chase.
Chelsea called me right before they set off, hiking into the woods at Enchanted Rock, excitedly telling me it had to be fate.
Spoiler alert: it was not fate. It was more of a disaster.
Within the next twelve hours, Chelsea had figured out the guy—Chase—was head over heels for the other group guide, who I’m guessing was Harper. Chelsea never told me her name, I’m sure. It’s unique enough that I might have remembered.
Then again, why would I ever have thought her path would have crossed in such a way with Tank’s daughter and her now husband? I would never have made this connection because it’s absolutely absurd.
Anyway, the worst part of the camping trip wasn’t when Chelsea realized it wasn’t meant to be with Chase. They got sprayed with a skunk while trying to use the bathroom in the woods. It was a story for the ages.
Now, it’s been a few years. Harper and Chase are happily married—and pregnant, if I’m correct. Mason and Chelsea are also happily married. They got together not long after the skunk incident, actually. This should be fine.
But it’s not ideal. I only know Chelsea’s side, so I have no idea how all this seemed from Harper and Chase's perspective. For all I know, Chelsea might be the villain in their story. She’s certainly the one apologizing, though I don’t know what for.
I only remember the broad strokes of what happened.
Maybe there was something more or something I’ve forgotten?
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this connection. It will make for a good story—so long as no one holds a grudge. Chelsea seems genuinely apologetic, though again, I’m still not sure why. Was the skunk spraying them somehow her fault? Or is this more about her going on a date with Chase?
Harper and Chase don’t seem angry, just surprised and a little taken aback. Which might have as much to do with the fact that this surprise might have ruined Harper’s surprise.
If I’m right about that—but I’d place a hefty bet.
Tank told me Harper was feeling bad earlier, but she just told him she’s not exactly sick.
Plus, the fainting. A little color is back in her cheeks, but she looks worn out and exhausted—exactly how I remember feeling in the early days of my pregnancies.
This will be fine, I tell myself. Whatever messy thing happened, it wasn’t horrible.
We raised good kids who are reasonable and kind.
They’ll get over it. And even if they don’t …
well. They’d just better. Because I’m certainly not walking away from Tank if our kids are bothered by some silly non-event years ago.
I look helplessly at Tank, who seems just as unsure as I am on how to proceed.
“Of all the small worlds,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “How did this happen?”
“I think our present situation is exactly the kind that gave rise to the expression about the world being small,” Mason says with a small smile. “And possibly the inspiration for the ride at Disney.”
It’s the first thing I’ve heard him say all night, and I’m grateful. Where Chelsea is all energy and impulsivity, he’s steady and quiet and exceedingly thoughtful. And, on rare occasions, he’s also apparently got jokes.
Chase snickers, then coughs to cover it up.
The room falls silent. For a few very long moments, we all simply stare awkwardly around the room as tension builds.
And then, there’s a giggle.
I’m surprised to see that it came from Harper, who’s covering her mouth. Chase looks just as shocked, but he smiles. Tank still looks confused.
Harper’s giggle becomes a full belly laugh. “You shouldn’t apologize,” she says, shaking her head and looking at Chelsea. “I should honestly thank you. The skunk actually helped bring us together.”
“To finally help bring us together,” Chase mutters, and is quickly elbowed by Harper. He laughs. “What? Without that skunk, maybe you would have made me wait another few years for you.”
“Really?” Chelsea says. Her smile is tentative but hopeful.
“It actually helped us get together too,” Mason says.
“No.” John, who’s been so quiet I almost forgot he was here, is shaking his head. “I helped get you together. That was me. Don’t give Pepé Le Pew the credit. It’s mine.”
“The skunk did more,” Mason says stubbornly.
“I’m sorry, but how? Explain to me how a skunk did more than I did,” John demands, and honestly, I’m glad for this random side-argument. Knowing Mason, he provoked it on purpose, knowing this would be a better focus for John’s frustration than anywhere else he might direct it right now.
Before Harper fainted and we all realized there was a past connection with our kids, I’d been concerned about John. He had been too quiet. The kind of quiet that’s ominous, like a storm you can see developing in the distance. Leave it to Mason to help dispel some of that.
At least, for now.
As the two of them continue bickering, I walk over to where Tank, Harper, and Chase are jammed together on my tiny sofa. Tank stands, taking my hand. “Not quite how I thought this would go,” he says.
“I really can’t believe it. What are the odds?”
“Not zero,” Chase says with a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Rose. I’m Chase—Harper’s husband, former tour guide, and forever skunk-hater.”
“Hey,” Harper says, nudging him with her shoulder. “Remember, a skunk helped get us together.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like them.”
“Fine,” Harper says. She turns to me with a smile that’s small but genuine. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Rose. Dad has told me a lot, but not nearly enough. I have questions.” She holds up a hand. “Not, like, an interrogation. I just mean I’m excited to get to know you better.”
“I would love that. I’m really happy to meet you both,” I say.
“Hang on—you never said why you fainted,” Tank says, brow furrowed. “Because you were so shocked to see Chelsea?”
I give Tank’s hand a squeeze and wink at Harper. She smiles, then gazes up at her dad with a soft expression.
“That’s not why. I mean, I was definitely shocked. But the reason we were late and why I fainted is because … I’m pregnant.”