Austin
Two weeks after Troy’s moved in, I walk into the dining room to find him, laptop perched on the card table, working. “Shit. Do you ever do anything else?”
He doesn’t even look up. “I seem to remember spending half the day tearing out walls upstairs.”
“Yeah, but every other waking minute you’re on that computer.” I pull out a chair and settle carefully. They’re kind of spindly. “No wonder Darcy—”
“Don’t say it.” He holds a hand in front of my face. “You’ve been ragging at me about my work since I moved in. I’m sick of it. And my wife is none of your business, either, so fuck off.” Though he hasn’t taken his eyes off the computer screen, his face is red and scrunched up like a little kid, fixing to pitch a fit.
“Hey, I’m trying to help you.”
“Well, you’re not helping. Why don’t you focus on your own pathetic self?”
“At least I’m trying to move on, instead of hiding out with my head buried in work.”
“Seriously?” He looks at me over his reading glasses. “How are you moving on?”
“I’m working on the house. We’re going to get a plan together for the business.”
“There’s a great future. Living by yourself in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, with a bunch of animals for company.” He lifts a thumb. “Score, bro.”
I reach over and slam the laptop closed.
He jerks his mushed fingers out. “What the—”
“Okay, so we’re both pathetic. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bunking with your sorry ass.”
“So, why are you?” But after living with him for two weeks, I know. “Darcy threw you out because you work all the time, didn’t she?”
He flinches, and I know I’ve hit a bull’s-eye.
“Hey, I’ve built a successful business here. I’m managing a combined portfolio of tens of millions of dollars. I’ve got to be up on the latest in the stock market, the bond market, trends in gold, and economic forecasts. I’ve got to be available for my clients.” His tone is even, but his coloring isn’t.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Aren’t you listening? I’ve got to make a living.”
“Why? I mean, Darcy’s rich in her own right.”
His face gets redder. “So, I should just mooch off my wife’s money? Is that what you’re saying?” He’s out of his chair.
I hold up my hands in truce. “I remember wondering, when you two started dating, how you had the guts to ask her out. I mean, we never wanted for anything, but our family isn’t in their league. Did any of them look down on you?”
His eyes slide away. “Nothing blatant. You know, whispers that stop when you come in the room, stuff like that.” He drops back into the chair. “Her dad had a ‘talk’ with me, when I asked for his permission to marry Darcy.”
“You have more guts than me.”
We sit for a minute in silence.
“Relationships are only easy on Netflix.”
“Yeah, unless it’s House, or Six Feet Under, or House of Cards, or…”
“Maybe relationships just aren’t easy.”
“Mine used to be.”
He snorts. “Sorry, but that’s because you were the big man, and she followed you around like a puppy.”
That stings. “How the hell would you know? You’re never around.”
“Doesn’t take long to see. Sounds like Carly grew up, and wanted equal billing.” He studies my face, and nods to himself. “Good for her.”
“You know what?” I stand, and the chair falls behind me. “I’ve had enough armchair analyzing for one day.”
“Hey, you started it.”
“Well, I’m finishing it.” I slam out of the house.
Troy may be full of shit, but his words sound familiar. Carly, Mom, and now Troy, who knows me least of all. I grab the bucket of nails I left beside the front door. The steps are wobbly, and banging nails would feel good right about now.
Did I expect Tig to tag after me? Not consciously. But looking back…maybe. I always meant for us to be a team, but then I dictated terms like I was the leader, leaving her to wait. And wait, for me to do what I’d promised.
I put a handful of nails in my mouth, and start pounding.
She must have felt like I did, when I realized she hadn’t even thought of my feelings that night in the truck: used, unappreciated, taken for granted. And she must have felt that way for years.
I told her that I was afraid of failure, and that’s true. But it’s also an excuse a boy uses, not a man. Scared or not, a man takes care of those he loves. I was so wrapped up in me I didn’t see her.
I smack my thumb, and almost swallow the nails. Shit, that hurts.
Now, Tig’s facing the hardest time of her life, and I’ve let her down. Again.
If only she hadn’t gone to Albuquerque…
I imagine her sperm donor as the nail, and it’s flush with the board in one bang.
I can’t let go of Tig. It’s impossible. I love her still and always.
I also know the baby is the only innocent in all this mess.
* * *
Carly
I told Jess I wanted to take a trip to Albuquerque, to pick out my present for her baby at a real live baby store, instead of finding something online. My second reason was to tell her, in private. I look out the window of her SUV and try to pull in a full breath. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of her reaction to the news, or her anger, for not telling her earlier. Doesn’t matter, though; it just has to be done. “Jess.”
“Yeah, Chiquita.”
Jess’s pet name for me washes me in a warm wave of comfort, and BFF memories. Why did I think I couldn’t tell Jess? The reason now seems as thin as the cardboard evergreen freshener tree swinging from the mirror. “I’m pregnant.”
The car swerves. “What?”
I grab the wheel. “Pull over. You don’t want to die before you hear the story, do you?”
She takes her foot off the gas and steers to the side of the road. Luckily, this early on a Saturday, I-40 isn’t busy. The wheels thump off the tarmac, and we skid in the gravel when she slams on the brakes.
I know that WTF look. But as I open my mouth to start the story, her expression softens. “You little minx. When? How far along are you?” Her eyes go wide and she squeals, “We’ve got a wedding to plan!” She grabs my hands in hers. “Oh, we’re gonna make this one hell of a—” Her perfectly plucked brows come together. “What? Why are you crying?”
I squeeze her hands, then pull away. Think of this as practice. If you can do this, you’ll be strong enough to tell the town. To give birth. To cut a future from a black hole. “I should’ve told you. That day, in the grocery. I-I-I’m so messed up. No, I so messed up.”
“Honey, it’s okay. We’ll just…what?”
I know my face isn’t right. Normal. “It’s not Austin’s.”
“Shut up. That’s not funny.”
I snort and I slap a hand over my face. She hands me a tissue and I honk into it. “I can’t think of anything less funny, but that doesn’t make it not true.”
She looks poleaxed. “I think you better tell me now.”
So I do. In fits and starts and to the ruination of several tissues, I tell her the whole sordid tale, sparing no stupid move, no mistake, no idiotic decision.
“Holy chaos, Batman. That’s one hell of a story.”
“It’s the truth.” I sniff.
“Oh, I know. You couldn’t make that shit up.” She twists her mouth to chew the edge of her lip, like she does when she’s thinking. “Okay. Austin knows, your grandparents know…” She shoots a razor-sharp glare at me. “And don’t think I’m forgetting you’re just getting around to telling me. The only reason you’re still alive is because I feel sorry for you.”
Saved by pity. “I’ll take it.”
“How are you going to break the news to the town? Do you want me to? I could just let it slip that—”
“No.”
“I could put a spin on it. Save you the—”
“No, Jess. I mean it.” I force my jaw muscles to loosen. “I love you for wanting to make it easier, but I don’t want that. I’ve taken the easy way most of my life, and this is where it got me. It’s time I grow up, and speak up for myself.”
“You haven’t had it easy. You’ve worked in that danged diner your whole life.”
“No, I mean I took the easy way. Instead of saying what I thought, I let Austin make all the decisions. I followed like a little puppy, wagging my tail. It’s no wonder he didn’t think I had an opinion in my head—I never told him.”
“Well, why the heck didn’t you?”
Jess has always spoken her mind. Anyone who doesn’t like it can go hang. I’ve always admired that about her. I look down at my hands, clasping and unclasping in my lap. “Because then, if things went wrong, it’d be my fault. There, I said it. I’m not proud of it, but there it is. I didn’t want the responsibility. It was so much easier to drift along, being the good girl, letting everyone else take the risk, do the trailblazing.”
I’m surprised by my words. It seems my subconscious has been chewing on this, and is just now letting me in on it. “And that worked out great, for years. But I guess I changed, along the way. It happened so slowly that I didn’t realize it, until Austin and I had that last blowout.” I put my hands over my little pooch. “But now I’m going to be a mother myself. You can’t get much more responsible than that, huh?” I give her a watery smile. “I’m going to be the best danged mother anyone’s ever seen. I’m going to raise her strong, to make her so sure of my love, and so sure that I’m always going to be there for her that…”
“Aw, come here, hon.” Jess wraps her arms around me and I’m crying again. “You will make a great mother, Carly Beauchamp. You’re the most steadfast, loyal woman I know.”
“I think Austin would disagree.”
“Stop beating yourself up. Growing up doesn’t come with a timetable, or a manual. Everybody is allowed a few mistakes in their lives. Doesn’t mean you’re not a good person. We know you, Chiquita. The town will get over it, and if Austin doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve you.”
I so hope she’s right. Not about Austin; he’s gone. But about everyone else. But I know how judgmental I was, before Albuquerque. Why would other people be any different?
She pushes me upright and reaches under her seat, pulls out a packet of baby wipes, and hands them to me. “Clean yourself up, girlfriend. We’re going shopping for two babies!”
* * *
“Oh my gosh,” Jess squeals in the next aisle. “Come look at this!”
I put down the breast pump and walk around the endcap display. Jess is holding a little stuffed giraffe with legs splayed and little red hearts for eyes.
“Adorable.”
“No, wait, listen.” She pushes a button on its belly, and “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from The Lion King plays. “I’m buying the Bean this, and you can’t stop me.”
“That’s too much, Jess. You’re insisting you’re buying a third of the stuff in the basket.”
“I know, but how often do I get to be a godmother?”
I asked her in the parking lot. If something happened to me, I can’t think of anyone who’d do better for my baby. She’d raise it to be strong. I survey the contents of the cart. “Seems such a shame to pay full price for all this. I know at least five women who have baby stuff their kids have grown out of.” I sigh. “But I can’t very well ask them.”
“This baby deserves better than hand-me-downs.”
“Tell that to Papaw. I think half his profits last month went to the crib we bought online. Not to mention the new swearwords I learned, watching him put it together.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll bet he’s more excited than anyone about this baby. He only acts tough on the outside; inside, he’s got a marshmallow heart.”
A massively pregnant woman waddles by. Her gaily striped top is big enough to have been a circus tent in a past life.
“Funny, I always imagined I’d be wearing pregnancy clothes before I even needed to, just so people would notice and ask.” I run a hand down my stomach, my small bump unnoticeable under my too-big boyfriend shirt. “Instead, I’m trying to hide it.”
It’s more than maternity clothes, though. I never expected to do this alone. I pictured Austin buying drinks for the bar when he announced it to his friends. Warm nights, Austin curled around me us protectively. Austin, with his big hands, cradling a tiny bundle the day it was born. I miss him with an ache I feel in my teeth.
We walk into the furniture department. It’s a pastel explosion, with cribs done up in adorable matching bedding.
“Oh my gosh—”
“Nope. You’re not buying another thing.”
“But here, feel this.”
Jess takes my hand and puts it on a throw that’s draped across the back of a rocking chair. It’s soft as a snuggle. “You know, if you’d have told me last year I’d be unmarried and pregnant, I’d have thought it was the worst thing that could happen.”
Funny how this baby worked its way into my heart, as well as my body. I don’t even know the sex yet, and we’ve already been through so much together that I can hardly remember when it wasn’t a part of me. I sit in the rocker, pull the throw in my lap, and pet it. “I can’t wait to hold my baby. To give it all the love I have bottled up.” I look up at her, blinking back the surge of happiness. “Whatever happens, I’m not sorry. How could I be?”
* * *
Carly
The diner is in the 10:30 dead zone—after the breakfast rush, but before lunch—when Austin walks in the door.
And, as always, my world stops for a nanosecond.
He settles in a booth at the window beside the door. The neighboring booth is empty.
He watches me all the way across the floor. I lift the carafe. “Coffee?”
He flips his mug upright, and I fill it. “You all right, Carly? You look kinda peaked.”
My feathers ruffle. He should try being pregnant and on his feet, ten hours a day. “You’re one to talk. What happened there?” I nod at the bandage on his hand.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Troy and I are replacing drywall, and the knife slipped.”
“I heard he moved in with you at the homestead house. How’s he doing?”
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
“You two always got along like ducks and alligators. I hope everything works out okay with him and Darcy. They always were such a cute couple.” Realizing I want to slide into the booth and spend an hour catching up, I straighten and pull the order ticket pad from my apron. “You want a menu?”
“Just coffee, thanks.” He looks around the room. “Can you sit, just for a minute? I need to ask you something.”
I look for a reason to say no, but my orders aren’t up yet, and the two patrons don’t need a refill. “I guess.” But my heart is pounding a drum roll in my ears. What could he want? I slide in across from him and his cologne drifts over me in a cloud of nostalgia that loosens my muscles. It would be too easy to slip into old habits like a well-worn pair of slippers.
Be careful.
He turns his mug, precise quarter turns, one after another. He stares at it, frowning like he’s going to be graded on his performance. “Do you think we could be friends, Tigger?”
My old nickname is a sucker punch to my solar plexus. Day to day, you just move forward and try to forget how much you left behind. But that word brings it all back with the vivid technicolor of a deep bruise. “Can you do me a favor and not call me that? And we are friends.”
“Sorry.” His mug takes another pirouette. “I mean friends, like we used to be.” He appears to chew his words before he spits them out. “See, there’s this huge hole in me. I keep shoveling in fill dirt, but it’s not making a dent. Something’ll happen, and before I think, I’ve got my phone in my hand to tell you about it.”
“You’ve got tons of friends, Austin Davis.”
“Yeah, but not like you.” For the first time, he looks at me. Into me.
I’m caught like a spotlighted deer, and my heart is beating just as fast. It would be so easy to tip back into him. “I miss you, too.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain can filter.
He smiles. That warm, sexy, Austin-smile that always made me feel like we were in a bubble—just him and me.
The bubble pops. Being with Austin is like when Papaw’s sister had Alzheimer’s. It was so hard going to see her, because she looked just like my great-aunt. But she wasn’t. My Tante Nell had left the building, leaving her face and body behind. Austin looks just like the guy I fell in love with (and to be truthful, I still am in love with that guy). But he’s not. This is the guy who’s in love with the old Carly. He’s rejected the flawed, opinionated, pregnant, Now-Carly. Yet still, I’m in danger of forgetting every time I see him.
And that’s dangerous. There’s more at stake now than just my heart.
I make myself hold his gaze. “We can be friends—like we’re friends with everyone else. But the way we used to be?” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but nuh-huh.”
“I guess I knew that. But I had to try.” His gaze falls back to the full mug in front of him. “I still love you, Carly.” It slips out on a whisper.
I have no doubt he does. As much as he can. But I need a man who has enough room in his heart for a package deal. Austin already told me he doesn’t have that kind of capacity.
The cowbell on the door clangs, and Lorelei breezes in, arms full of bags. Austin jumps up and takes them from her. “Where do you want them?”
Eyes on me, she points to the counter, and when he walks past her, she mouths What the heck?
I shake my head, a you don’t want to know, and heave myself to my feet. Another afternoon to get through, and now my heart hurts as much as the rest of me.
* * *
Austin
A week later, Troy and I are sitting in the dining room, putting together a first year’s budget for my rough-stock business.
“Okay, that’s the bull side of the equation. How much for broodmares?”
I quote him a number. The name at the top of the pad is “Davis Rough Stock.” It’s uninspired, but I don’t have the heart it would take to come up with something clever to put in place of the “C&A” initials. If I’m honest, I don’t have the heart for any of this. But it uses my knowledge, and even if I didn’t need something to stay occupied, I need money.
He adds a column of figures. “Since you’re going to operate at a loss for the first five years, you’re going to have to—”
“Even with the stock that’s ready to buck?”
“Startups always take huge capital investment.” He holds up his mechanical pencil. “But after that, if your estimates are right, you’re in the black.”
I tighten my muscles, then ask, “What’s the bottom line—total net cash outlay for the first five years?”
He names a figure more than double my savings.
I wince. “And that doesn’t figure in the money I’ll need to get this house into shape.”
“I warned you.”
“Thanks. ‘I told you so’ is so helpful.”
“Hey, I’ve gotta admit, this looks more profitable a venture than I thought. I think your numbers are conservative.” He leans back and drapes one arm over the back of his chair. “You could make a decent living at this, eventually.”
“‘Eventually’ doesn’t count when you’ve gotta eat in the meantime.” Shit. One more dream gone. “Looks like I’m gonna be seeing a lot of the south end of dad’s northbound cows.”
“Giving up that easy?”
“Well, short of robbing a bank, I don’t see any alternative. I don’t own the land. You know a bank that’s going to loan me money before I have assets?”
“Nope.”
My mood drops to the bottom of a well. At least it has company—my future is there, too.
My phone rings in my pocket. I don’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Davis, you mangy old coyote, how you doin’?”
“Jimbo? Jimbo Jones?”
“Yeah. Heard you were back in town, and thought I’d call.”
Jimbo and I used to run around on the circuit before he retired three years ago. He’s got a ranch on the other side of town. “Hey, didn’t I hear you got married?”
“Yeah, about a year ago.” A little girl’s voice asks something in the background. “Hang on, honey, I’ll be right with you.”
“Was that a kid I just heard?”
“Yeah, my Annalise and her two kids came as a package deal.”
“Wow. For a guy who was never getting married—”
He chuckles. “What can I say? Man plans, God laughs.”
“No lie.” I rub the ache below my breastbone.
“You miss rodeoing?”
Among other things. “Feels like every Friday I should be loading up the truck and hitting the road. You still miss it?”
“Oh, hell yeah. But I found a way to fix that. In fact, that’s why I’m calling. I need some help.”
“Help with what?”
“NMYRA. Youth Rodeo.”
“You’re involved in that?”
“Yeah, I have kids out to the ranch to practice, and I host local events once a month.”
“I don’t know, Jimbo. I’m fixing up the homestead house, helping Dad with the cattle, and trying to start my own business. Doesn’t leave a lot of time—”
“Aw, come on, four hours on a Saturday once a month isn’t going to kill you. Rodeo was good to you. Least you can do is extend a hand back, to help some local kids.”
I do miss rodeo. “When is it?”
“This Saturday. All you need to do is help run stock in, and maybe fight a couple of calves. Think you can handle that, old man?”
“Maybe. Just barely. Tell me more.”