by Imani King
"Dallas?"
"Yeah?" I mumbled. "Shit – did I conk out?"
I rolled over onto my side and looked at her. I knew nothing had been worked out, but it felt hopeful – she'd just slept with me again, hadn't she? Why would a woman do that if she was planning on never seeing you again? But her expression was troubled, just like it had been during our earlier talk. I ran a single finger down her cheek.
"Why do you look sad, Tia? I know everything isn't automatically perfect now, just because I spilled my guts. I get that. But – we can go somewhere from here, can't we? I want you. I'm not saying it's going to be easy – or that I'm going to be easy – but I want to try. I haven't wanted to try for years. Do you want to try with me?"
She lay down on her back and looked at the ceiling, sighing. "So, just to be clear, Dallas – if Bentley didn't exist, you never would have wanted children? That's what you said –"
"Why are you asking me this," I asked, thoroughly confused at the change in the mood between us. "Of all the things we talked about, why is this the thing you seem so worried about? I understand if you're not interested in getting serious with a guy who has a kid, I get that. It'll break my heart, but I'll understand. Is that it?"
Tia laughed, but it wasn't a joyful kind of laugh. Something was wrong, I could feel it in my gut. Her repeated broaching of the topic of the baby – not Larissa, but Bentley himself – was so odd. My stomach sank as the bleak realization came over me – we hadn't just had makeup sex. It was the opposite. It was break-up sex.
Fifteen
Tia
My heart was pounding and my stomach was sour. It all felt so perfect, so just-right to be with Dallas. And it would have been, were it not for the baby inside me, the one I was in no way convinced he wanted. I didn't have a choice, though. There was going to be no keeping it from him, not if I wanted to be with him. And I did want to be with him. So much it terrified me.
"Tia," he asked again, "what is it? Did I say something? Please tell me what's going on with you."
I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling, desperately trying to figure out how to word what I needed to say. There was no way to soften it, though. I pulled a sheet up over me and closed my eyes before jumping off the cliff.
"Dallas, I'm pregnant."
Silence. Not even the sound of his breathing, which seemed to have stopped along with my own. I waited, and the seconds stretched out like hours. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I rolled onto my side to search his face for some sign of a reaction.
"What?" he spluttered. "You're – Tia, what did you just say?"
I repeated myself. "I'm pregnant."
He sat up. "With – with –"
"With a baby," I said, flatly. This was it. This was the end.
"With whose baby?"
It was my turn to be at a loss. I stood up and started looked for my clothes, determined not to start crying or begging. "Whose baby do you think?!" I snapped angrily.
"Tia!" Dallas shouted, reaching out, grabbing my wrist, and pulling me back onto the bed. "Tia, wait! That isn't what I –"
"What did you mean then?!" I yelled back. "What part of this is difficult for you to understand? We had unprotected sex! And now I'm pregnant. That's all I have to say. And I have to go to work soon, so –"
"Oh no you don't," he said, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. "Oh no you don't just tell me you're having a baby and then walk out."
"Your baby," I corrected him, trying to jerk away and failing. "Your baby, Dallas."
And then I watched as his expression of shock and what could have been anger melted into one of – what was that? Wonder? I couldn't tell.
"You're having my baby? Tia, is this a joke? Because if it is –"
"It's not a joke!" I exclaimed. "Why would I make a joke about something like that? Especially right now?!"
I didn't get to finish my sentence, because Dallas suddenly pulled me into a bear-hug so tight I was left with little choice but to calm down.
"Oh my God," he said, his voice muffled against my neck. "Oh my God, Tia." He pulled away to look at me again, and now he was smiling. A little flicker of hope welled up in my heart. He was smiling. "Are you serious?" he whispered.
I nodded. "Yes, I'm serious. Are you upset?"
"No," he responded, before repeating himself, louder that time. "NO! Oh, Tia, baby. Really? Oh fuck I hope I'm not dreaming."
Dallas reached down between us and put one hand flat on my belly, incredulous.
"Are you," I paused, almost too scared to ask the question, "are you happy?"
Instead of answering right away, he lay me down on the bed and nestled his face into my midsection. He was happy. I couldn't believe it. Unless the universe was playing some terrible trick on me, Dallas Corbett looked for all the world like he was overjoyed.
"Of course I'm happy," he said, looking up at me. "Of course I am. You silly girl, what did you think? Did you think –"
"But what about the things you said earlier?" I cut in. "All of that stuff about never wanting kids? About only being there for Bentley out of a sense of duty?"
Dallas closed his eyes briefly, but he didn't budge. "It was bullshit. OK, it wasn't all bullshit, it just wasn't the whole truth, either. It's true that I never thought about kids. It isn't that I didn't want them, Tia, it's just honestly something that didn't cross my mind. But it's so weird, when Larissa first told me about Bentley I was just in shock. Then it felt like I was coming around, you know? Starting to think about it would really mean to be a dad. When my lawyer dropped the whole 'he might not be yours' thing on me, that was when it dawned on me."
"When what dawned on you?"
"My reaction. I was disappointed. I thought I'd be happy and I wasn't. And now – this. I'm sorry, I haven't even asked you how you feel about it. Are you happy?"
I considered the question. "I don't know. Or – I didn't know? Whether or not I'm happy about it hinges so much on whether or not you're happy about it, Dallas. I guess I could say I haven't had time to be happy, because I've just been so stressed out and so worried about how you would react when you heard. But you seem – well, you don't seem angry."
"I'm not angry, Tia. Why would I be angry? It's not like I had nothing to do with it. No, not angry. Just overwhelmed and, I don't know, it doesn't feel real yet, I think. Like something you want to be true so much you can't really allow yourself to hope for it, you know?"
"Well it is true," I told him, running my fingers through his close-cropped hair. "I'll be twelve weeks soon. Amber knows – they all know, but I swore them all to secrecy."
Dallas kissed my belly and shook his head. "There's a baby in there? It doesn't – I'm sorry, but I can hardly believe it."
We lay there like that for a few minutes, me stroking Dallas's head and Dallas stroking my belly. He was happy – and that made me happy. But I knew it was early days, and that everything was still precarious. He needed more time – to accept our new situation, and to think about how he wanted to handle it. Life isn't a fairytale, and no one knew it better than me.
"I have to get ready for work," I said. "Besides, you probably need some time to let this all sink in."
Dallas lifted his head off my belly and looked me right in the eye. "No I don't."
"Yes, Dallas, you probably –"
"No," he asserted, sitting up. "I don't. Not a single part of me feels ambiguous about this – about you, or about the baby. I – damnit, maybe this is a really stupid thing to say, but, Tia – I love you."
I sucked my breath in, wanting so, so badly to have heard him right. Wanting to believe it. "Do you?" I asked softly, my voice wobbling.
"Yes," he replied, lying down beside me and pulling me on top of him again. "Yes, I do. I love you, Tia Kinsley. I see that look in your eyes. I see all those doubts. Forget them. This is what I want. Hell, this is all I want. And believe me, I'm probably more surprised than you are to hear words like that coming out of my own mouth. And
I know you probably have your own thoughts on how you want this to go, but –"
"I just want you," I said quickly. "I've been too scared to even admit it to myself, even though it's obvious. I want you, Dallas. I want to be with you. Even during these past few weeks, it's taken all my energy to pretend otherwise."
"Then that's all that matters," he whispered, kissing my ear. "Everything else is details. Complicated details, I admit, but details all the same. We're doing this, Tia. You and me. We're doing this. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. OK?"
My body suddenly felt very light, almost like I might float off the bed and drift up to the ceiling if Dallas let go of me. I didn't know how much weight I'd been carrying until it just disappeared that afternoon in a small cabin in River Bend, Montana. He loved me. It was the only thing I wanted. The feeling of lightness didn't leave, either. When he walked me to the car when it was time to leave for work, I felt like skipping or dancing.
"Look at you," he said, stroking his fingers down my cheek before saying goodbye. "Look at you, Tia. You look different, you know. You look like someone just told you that happy endings exist."
"Someone did just tell me that."
He bent down and kissed me one more time.
Amber, who was working the same shift as me, knew something was up right away. I couldn't keep the grin off my face, or the bounce out of my step.
"What's with you?" she asked when we got a moment alone. "You look like you just won the lottery. And I have to say, if you did, I hope you can lend me a couple of bucks for a coffee. I am seriously about to fall asleep here."
"I told him."
"You – what? You told Dallas? Oh my God! What did he – well, from the look on your face, I'm not sure I even have to ask."
"He told me he loves me."
Without saying another word, Amber came over running over to my till to hug me. When she pulled away, I could see her eyes were glassy.
"Say something!" I implored.
She shook her head. "Sorry, Tia. Sorry for getting all emotional. I'm just happy for you. I know this is what you wanted. Don't make a face, we were all trying to be supportive – and we all know Dallas Corbett's reputation – but we knew. I knew, anyway. I could hear it in your voice whenever you talked about him. And – you know, everything that's happened to you. You're such a cool person. You're my friend. And you deserve some happiness in your life."
I blinked. "Stop, Amber. If you don't stop I'm going to start and then we're going to get fired for crying in front of the customers. And I don't need to get fired at this point – I hear diapers are expensive."
My friend wiped her eyes and grinned. "OK, I'll try. So – he loves you, huh? He said that?"
"Yes. Believe me, I was totally not expecting it. He said he wants the baby, and he loves me, and he wants to be with me. I hope this isn't a dream. Ha – he said the same thing."
Amber reached out and pinched my arm gently. "Not a dream. Damn, Tia. Dallas Corbett. Wow. I think I can say one thing for sure – there are going to be a few girls in River Bend wondering what you've got that they don't have. He's kind of been our resident sexy jerk for a while now. So... what are you going to do? I mean, when I met you, you didn't even know how long you would be in River Bend."
I threw up my hands. "I have no idea! I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not going back to Philly. We didn't talk about any of this – Dallas said it was 'details' and that we could work it out together later."
A customer appeared at Amber's till and she went back to serve him. After he left she turned back to me.
"So, did you say it?"
"Say what?"
"Did you say that you loved him?"
It hit me then that I hadn't said it back to him. "Uh – actually, no. I wasn't thinking straight, Amber. I could barely say anything."
"Well, do you? Love him?"
Did I love Dallas Corbett? I did. I nodded shyly. "Um. Yeah. I do."
"I knew it. Oh, Tia. I am so happy for you. This is what I wanted to happen, I just didn't think it would. To be honest with you, I didn't think he had it in him."
We spent the rest of our shift chatting, which consisted mostly of me filling Amber in on the conversation with Dallas – although I left out what he'd told me about his time in Iraq, not sure that was the kind of thing he'd be OK with me telling my friends.
"We should do something," Amber told me in the parking lot after closing time. "All of us, I mean. Like, a party or a dinner or something. I guess we're going to have to start inviting Dallas to our girl's nights?"
I chuckled. "Not all of them. Actually, I don't even know. I think he would come, wouldn't he? Yeah, he would."
"Well then I'll arrange something. You leave it to me. Oh, and Tia?"
"You better tell him. The part where you love him. That's important."
She hugged me again before leaving and I got into my car and took out my phone. How do you tell someone you love them? Do you just say those three words?
Sixteen
Dallas
A text arrived from Tia later that night, just as I was getting back to the cabin after the final night-time check of the property and the livestock.
"Almost forgot..."
That was it. "Almost forgot..."
I started to type out a reply, intending to make some kind of joke about pregnancy affecting her mind, when another text arrived.
"I love you, too."
That was it. I already knew she loved me, because it was obvious in almost everything she did, in the way she was when she was around me, the way her body softened whenever I touched her. Or I suspected it, anyway. But that text confirmed it and I stood there in the dark outside my cabin grinning like a fool for a good few minutes.
So she loved me. And I loved her. And she was going to have my baby. Life was so sweet, and so unexpected. But that didn't mean I was going to spend the next few days and weeks mooning around like a lovesick teenager. Things were serious now, and I felt it – I felt it from the very first second the words 'I'm pregnant' had escaped Tia's lips. A baby isn't a frivolity, and neither is a life together.
It was up to me to take care of her now, a responsibility I found I deeply wanted.
"How am I going to do that?" I asked, looking down at Beau. He licked my hand. "You've got to help me make a plan, buddy."
I went inside and grabbed a beer, noting the ever-present emptiness of my fridge and smiling at the thought of Tia filling it with food, continuing her cooking lessons so we didn't have to live on canned soup and eggs. Then I sat down on the couch with Beau.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me, that's what I'm going to do."
Did I imagine it or did my dog's ears perk up a little?
"And you know what that means," I said, continuing the one-sided conversation that I'd been having with him since he was a little ball of fluff chewing at my shoelaces. "It means I need a ring."
Not just a ring, either. A plan. No way was I going to ask Tia Kinsley to marry me on the front porch of my cabin. I wanted to make it special – for her. I've never been one for grand gestures but I was already changing, already becoming a man with priorities beyond the next day.
I was also going to have to talk to my parents. For Tia, and for our child. It's amazing how quickly it happened. The way people talk about marriage and parenthood can make it seem like one huge series of compromises, of giving things up. It didn't feel like that, though. It was going to be awkward – and painful – to talk to the people who had let me down so profoundly, but it wasn't just about me anymore.
I scratched Beau's ears, marveling at the ease with which that new truth – the one where I was no longer the center of my own universe – had manifested itself in front of me, just like that. As if someone had waved a magic wand over my life.
There was so much to do. And I was determined to do it, all of it.
The next day, during the mid-afternoon lull in chores, I sat down in my living room and made phone calls. The first
one was to my lawyer, who confirmed that a paternity test was in process with Bentley, and told me I myself would be receiving a cheek swab in the mail to send to a lab in Washington.
The second call was to my mother. When she picked up, her voice was hesitant, as if she couldn't quite believe it was me.
"Dallas? Is that you? Is something wrong?"
"Hey mom. No, nothing's wrong."
I never intended to cut my parents out forever. What I wanted was to establish a life separate from theirs, separate from my previous life in Texas and all the bullshit that came with it. Hearing my mother's voice again after three years brought up all the emotions I'd been trying so hard to suppress. Anger, for one. She and my father never did make a real effort to understand what I went through in Iraq, because they were too busy bragging to their friends and associates about their son the Marine, the hero, to notice that something was deeply wrong.
The incident that sealed my intentions to move away happened at a Fourth of July party at their sprawling mansion in the Texas Hill Country. I knew the fireworks were going to be a problem for me, and I went over to their place for dinner a week before the party to ask that they skip them that year. My mom was more sympathetic than my dad, whose only comment had been that if I'd been in a war, I should be able to deal with 'a few little fireworks,' but in the end she'd refused to cancel them, reassuring me that they wouldn't take long, and that I could wait in the house if I didn't want to see or hear them.
It was their total lack of sympathy, the fact that neither of them even tried to understand why I might not feel comfortable in a situation that involved fireworks, that did it. When I informed my mother later that night that I might not be attending the party, she pouted. And I knew why she was pouting – because it meant she wouldn't be able to show me off to her rich friends, the ones whose children had not volunteered to fight for their country.
As it happened, I did go to the party, partly in the hope that they had done the right thing and cancelled the firework display. They had not. As the sun went down that night, my dad made a comment to the large group of guests, something about me needing to 'hide' in the house before the show started. One of the guests, a man my father had been close to for years, made the mistake of laughing, probably without intending any offense, and the next thing I knew I had my hands around the poor guy's neck. After we'd been separated, the fireworks went ahead. And that was that, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, the final signal to me that the turmoil and deep anguish I suffered as a result of what I went through didn't matter as much to my parents as the badge of honor my service allowed them to polish in their social circles. I got my affairs in order in Texas and left just over a week later.