Page 77 of Fall Over You

Becca rushes around in the morning, almost losing a few eggs from her basket as she bustles through the kitchen. Her eyes stay down until she realizes Ellie is also in the kitchen.

“Morning, little mama. Did you have a rough night last night?”

Ellie nods gravely. “Daddy fixed it.”

Becca smiles wryly. “He’s good at that, isn’t he? Well, you have a good day at school. I guess . . . I’ll still pick you up? Then we can go to the courthouse?” She looks at me.

I clear my throat. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I can have Dad pick her up. I’ve got a big job to finish this morning. The customer’s been a real pain in the ass, and I don’t want that hanging over my head. Plus, thought you might need extra time to get ready, and I can come get you.”

Becca’s eyes round like she’s surprised. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“I’ll get you around noon, then.”

Becca scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, still looking stressed. “Noon it is.”

“Reba?”

I toe out of my boots by the back door and am surprised Becca’s not ready to go. I’m even running late because my morning job took longer than expected.

They always take longer than expected.

I call her name again and get a frantic, “Up here, sorry!”

I climb the stairs, concerned by her tone. I wouldn’t blame her if she’s nervous. Hell, I’m nervous. Becca usually plays music when she gets ready, something she’s done since we were pre-teens. I’d pass by her room to see her sitting on the floor in front of the mirror singing along to country radio and applying eyeliner with surgical precision.

I peek into her room with the hole in the ceiling to find her doing just that, but this time she’s at the mirror over her dresser, her bare feet on tiptoe, and there’s no music on. Her blonde hair is down with a slight wave to it, and she’s got on a short white dress that has cute little loops off her shoulders. I know for a fact she won’t wear a jacket with it, and there’s no sense in arguing about it.

That’s Becca Martin, and she’s my bride.

“Sorry,” she says, leaving her lips open as she lines her right eye. “I lost track of time when I was cutting pumpkins. Shit.”

She steps back and frowns at herself in the mirror.

I rest my shoulder against the doorway and lean my head into it. “Didn’t mean to distract you.”

She sighs and sucks on a Q-tip, twirling it between her lips. I ache thinking of my fingers in her mouth just last night. This is our first time completely alone together since then, no Ellie in the house. “No, I’m just shit at everything today.”

She dots the Q-tip along her lash line, and I want to puke thinking she’s having a hard time on today of all days.

“Bad day?” I ask.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just behind.” I’m not used to seeing her harried like this. She’s normally the type that if a bus drove by and covered her in mud, she’d smear the mud all over her clothes and wear it like it’s fashion week. I take in the sweet smell that she carries everywhere, a perfume that clings to her even though I don’t think she wears it on farming days.

“You look beautiful.” I say it, and I fucking mean it.

She turns my way with the eyeliner pen in her hand again with a sad smile. “Thanks. You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

It’s so hard for me to not go into fixer mode like I do for Ellie, like I used to do for CJ. Maybe if I fixed everything just right, I could keep everything from falling apart.

I know now that I can’t fix everything, but I still try for Ellie.

I don’t know whether I should or not for Becca. For one, I don’t know if she’d let me, and two, I don’t know if it’s the right answer.

She pauses when she picks up her mascara, flexing her left hand to look at her ring.

“Something wrong with your ring?”

She shakes her head with a little chuckle. “No. I just never got to do my nails.”