Page 84 of Fall Over You

Like we’ll grow old together.

Like this is real.

I let myself feel it, like all of this is true, and it feels like being tucked away in a warm bed, like the greatest comfort you can ask for in life.

I kiss her temple and she hums.

I’m just about to tell her that we need to get her sleepy butt to bed when she sighs.

“Thanks for today. It felt real.”

I can’t breathe. A double-edged sword cuts through me with equal measures of hope and despair. Hope that maybe sometime, it could be real. Despair that it isn’t real.

But I’m afraid that if it’s real, I’ll let Ellie down, that I can’t handle being in a relationship with Becca and being a good dad.

“Yeah. It did.”

Becca’s warmth withdraws from me and her lips brush my cheek.

“I have to go take care of something. Can you cover for me while I Irish goodbye my own wedding?”

I’m startled by her suddenly pulling away. “The song’s not over.”

She grimaces. “Sorry.”

She disappears into the dark, the white of her dress fading toward the barn.

THIRTY-TWO

BECCA

The damn pumpkins ain’t gonna cut themselves.

That’s what I’m repeating to myself to keep from melting down while I cut pumpkins in my wedding dress and Tyler’s jacket. Which doesn’t exactly scream “not melting down” but I’m not splitting hairs.

I didn’t get to finish this task this morning, and tomorrow morning, the small children of the tri-state region will be flooding my property in search of a fall-tastic time.

And it’s not fall-tastic if there aren’t pumpkins.

So, here I am.

Today was wonderful. Amazing. A dream day. Perfect. And I’m so overwhelmed by all of it: our people rallying around us, how sweet Tyler was, how much it didn’t feel like an arrangement of convenience and more like a team effort.

And in a loveless marriage, maybe that’s what it feels like: teamwork. Working toward a common goal, but instead of the goal being love and joy and a partner in everything, our goal is thriving businesses.

And raising a well-adjusted child along the way, but that’s kind of a side effect.

I should probably be more concerned about the mommy-like role I’m playing here, but it doesn’t feel like a burden. Ellie’s a sweet girl and I love our time together. I don’t like being alone, so I’m glad Tyler and Ellie are around.

I both love and hate how much today proved Tyler’s softness. I’ve known he had it in him ever since that night on the hood of his car when we were young. I’ve gotten flashes of it, like when he bought me a Red Bull and a muffin, when he’s apologized with flowers or food, but today was a new level.

A light bobs in the distance and heads steadily my way, and I’d be afraid, but I’m pretty sure I know who it is. By the time his legs are in my headlamp beam, I know for sure.

I’m sure I want to run and jump at him. What I’m not sure of is, when I land on him, whether I’ll want to laugh or cry or slap him or kiss all over his tender, confusing face. Because while today was sweet, we’re ignoring how just last night, Tyler shut down on me when something went wrong. It sucked.

“What are you doing out here, Reba?”

I share my ever-so-clever motto with him. “Pumpkins ain’t gonna cut themselves!”