It makes me giggle and makes Beckett chuckle as he asks curiously, “What’s that?”
I fill him in on the little minute she and I had before he got here, which he finds adorable. Then he darts a tickle onto my neck just like she did.
At first, I gasp and wiggle away, but then I decide to get both of them back with each of my hands. Soon, we’re all laughing and trying to defend ourselves—especially Beckett, since Theo quickly turns on him from her perfect tickling position.
It’s a fantastic start to our evening.
Theo begs for us to take his car to my parents’ house instead of mine. It’s no hassle since he’s had a car seat set up for her for a while now; I haven’t needed him to tote her around for anything very many times, but it has happened, so he decided to buy his own seat. I get the delighted little princess strapped in, then climb up front with Beckett. We’re good to go.
“I’d ask how your day was,” he says to me as he gets us going, “but I talked to you all throughout it, so I already know.”
I grin. “Yep, and I already know how yours was.”
He only takes his eyes off the road long enough to flash a grin back to me.
Then he’s paying attention again, and his voice is rising. “Well, The-o-dor-a, tell me how your day was!”
She repeats what she told me after I picked her up: “We did writing! I did good!”
“Oh, awesome! Practicing at home helps, huh?”
“Yeah! Hey, do you have a coloring book?”
I snort, and he gives the road a look of sweetly amused puzzlement. “Here in the car?”
“Mmhmm.”
He sends me a quick look like, ‘Where did that come from?’ It has me giggling because I’m not sure. I guess talking about writing made her think about coloring.
“Sure don’t, little miss,” he tells her. “I’m sorry!”
“Aw.”
Twisting in my seat, I remind her, “Grammie and Papaw do, though.”
“Oh, yeah!” She shoots a fist out like a superhero. “Let’s goooo! And I’m hungry.”
“Me too!”
“Me three,” Beckett chimes in.
“Me nine!” Theo returns.
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, your hunger is at nine?”
“Yes! I’m as hungry as…um…” she thinks for a moment, “…Winnie the Pooh!”
“Ah, yeah,” comes Beckett’s sigh. There’s a smile in his voice. “This is what I wanted.”
I settle back into my seat so I can see the smile for myself.
“What did you wanted?” Theo asks.
His smile grows into another grin. It’s contagious, and I catch it.
He wanted time with us.
Indeed, he answers, “To be with you and your mama.”
“Oh.” After a beat, she says, “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!”
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone watch traffic so cheerfully.
I try not to stare, but no matter what else snags my attention for the rest of the drive, my eyes keep drifting back to him and that expression.
At my parents’ house, hugs go all around—and Beckett gets the second biggest ones after Theodora. It’s a joy to witness. My parents have been wonderful to him since they first met him many years ago, same as with Cliff, and the boys loved them right back. It would be a lie to say it never made me emotional to know how badly they wanted parents who cared about them.
Especially Beckett.
To tell the truth, in the beginning, he was shy around Mom and Dad. He liked them and was courteous and willing to be present in the group, but he was still shy. It took some time for them to understand why he was like that, why he was careful about some things he said and did, and so on. But I understood, and it hurt my heart. Cliff’s parents sucked then and probably still suck now, wherever they are, but Beckett’s were the worst.
Knowing that he now feels appreciated and respected and safe—exponentially more than after he loosened up years ago—is one of the greatest things my life has had to offer.
It’s always deeply satisfying to hear people have gotten away from abuse and found their way to any amount of healing, but seeing it happen with this guy in particular…it has just made my life better.
“And my beautiful girl!” my mom says as she comes toward me with open arms. I pull myself out of my thoughts and walk into her hug. “How are you, honey?”
“Happy,” falls out of my mouth because it’s the first word I think of.
She loves it.
I notice that my dad’s face says he loves it.
Beckett’s says he does too.
And Theodora makes sure we all know that she loves being this close to coloring books and food. And she wants to be closer. Now, please.
My mom releases me and steps away. My dad comes to catch me up in the usual big squeeze while everyone else piles into the house.
Then, as we follow, he murmurs, “Happy, huh?”
I beam a smile up at him.
“Happy,” I repeat.
And I love it myself.
—
Chatter, laughter, and excellent food are enjoyed over the next hour or so. Everyone is delighted to spend time with everyone else.
However, Theo grows bored after a while and goes to watch TV in the living room with some cookies. We adults remain at the table with plates of apple pie…and as we’re finishing them, my dad shows off how not reluctant he is to mention my news that Beckett isn’t with Jenna anymore.
It makes me blush something fierce, for some reason, especially when my mom pipes up with her own interest in the subject.
But Beckett isn’t bothered whatsoever. From where he sits next to me, he grins and glances over my heated cheeks, then turns his attention to my parents and tells it all. He’s candid himself in talking about his ex’s attitude, how she refused to try to know me and Theodora, and how she all but gave him a choice: her or us.
“It sucked, but it was also an easy decision,” he finishes with a shrug.
My dad is frowning his deep agreement. “I’d say so. Nobody needs to shove their way in between people who matter to each other. Asking for respect and commitment is one thing—it’s something else to demand to be the only person of any importance.”
“That’s right,” my mom adds, her voice taking on a protective, I-don’t-like-this-information tone. “There you were, trying to live your life and do right by her the best you could, and she had the nerve to act like your priorities were pathetic.” She reaches across the table to pat as close to his hands as she can. “Honey, they were not pathetic. I hope you know that.”
Beckett smiles gratefully as he forks up his last bite of pie. “Yes, ma’am, I know. Thank you.”
After a moment, though, displeased bewilderment creases his handsome features. His hand stills as his eyes lower to the table.
“I just don’t get how she never understood,” he goes on more quietly. “I told her more times than I can count that Noelle and Theo are part of me. What’s hard to understand about that?”
Once again, his words have my heart swelling.
And my hand trying to twitch in his direction from my lap, because I want to touch him.
And my lips suddenly being folded into my mouth, because I want to kiss his face.
I don’t give in to either of those urges. I sit on my hands and wet my lips and look at my parents. My dad is answering Beckett with words my brain can’t seem to grasp, and my mom is looking at us with comforting warmth.
“No, there isn’t,” she says. “Ol’ girl just didn’t wanna know it.”
I turn my eyes to Beckett just in time to see him smile again.
Just like that, I’m able to catch up: ‘Ain’t a damn thing hard to understand about that,’ is what my dad said, and my mom agreed. Beckett had been honest and clear with Jenna, but she hadn’t been willing to work with him.
Now my dad is saying, “But that�
�s fine and dandy. You did what you had to do to take care of yourself, and now you’re better off. I’m proud of you, son.”
Those last words seem to echo around all of us.
Even if I weren’t still looking at Beckett, I’d be aware of how hard they hit him. They hit me hard because I know how special they are to a heart like his.
But I am still looking at him, so I see everything. The way he has tensed just slightly in surprise. The way he drops his free hand to his thigh and blinks like he isn’t sure he heard my dad right. And then the way his inhalation goes deep like the air is suddenly fresher—the way his smile brightens with a kind of satisfaction I don’t see on him often enough.
Yes, his heart is full, too, I know.
He tells my dad, “Thank you,” and his tone is as rich as golden sunshine.
It’s gorgeous.
And I do it—I can’t help it, my muscles have a mind of their own—I reach over and slip my fingers through his where his hand rests palm-down on his thigh.
We’re the only ones who notice it, and we’re the only ones who notice the soft breath he takes in. My dad is getting up to fetch more pie for himself and my mom is talking to Theo, who has just run in here calling her name.
Beckett and I are the only ones who are aware of him fumbling to turn his hand and fully notch his fingers with mine in return.
I don’t know if it’s heat or a crazy chill that’s spreading up my arm beneath my sweater.
Or maybe it’s both. My senses can’t figure it out.
I’m tempted to stay like this, soaking this up, until they can.
Except I can’t sit here and hold Beckett’s hand for as long as I’d like. We’re guests at someone’s house, and he probably wants to take his empty pie plate to the kitchen, and my pie plate isn’t even empty yet.
I give an unwilling goodbye tug of my hand.
He holds on for another long second before letting go, letting my fingers start to untangle from his…and I don’t know how it escaped my attention that he was still looking across the table this whole time, but I’m realizing it now that he’s turning those blue-gray eyes on me. They flood me with his full focus—ocean water mixed with more of that rich sunshine.
They seem to say the handholding felt nice to him too.
But I think the small smile he tips to me says he gets why it had to end.
Our hands fully fall away from each other as he stands from his chair. Like I figured he would, he picks up his plate.
“Need anything?” he asks beneath Mom and Theo’s chatter.
“Nope,” I say, as if a completely different answer isn’t whispering through me.
I bat it away, return the little smile to him, and refocus on my dessert.
“Thanks, Beck. I’m good.”
As he moves away, I think I feel him touch his fingertips to my shoulder blade, but I can’t say for sure. Whether he does or doesn’t, the heated chills show up there too.
I puff out a breath, then dig back into the pie.
And as I do, I find myself wondering what brand it is. Think it might be the best pie I’ve ever eaten.
I polish it off just as my dad comes back into the dining room with his fresh serving in hand and Beckett following behind.
“Ladies, we’re heading out to the shed. Beckett hasn’t seen my table yet. Anyone wanna come with?”
Theo does, but Mom says she’s about to deal with the dirty dishes, so I stay here with her.
At the sink, we chat about our plans for the rest of the evening. Beckett and I don’t actually have any, but we’ll probably end up hanging out. Might play more video games or something. And according to my mom, surprise craft time lies in Theo’s future.
“You’re sure it’s okay if she stays the night again?” I check as I put rinsed silverware into the dishwasher.
“Of course!” she replies. “She’s welcome any time! You know that.”
I send her a smile. “Yeah….”
“We’re more than happy to have her.” She pauses rinsing a plate to gently elbow me. “And we’re so glad the three of you came to dinner! What fun this has been!”
“I know! Thank you for everything. Those pork chops were so good. I can’t believe how juicy and tender they were.” I step closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders.
She manages to hug me around the middle without getting her wet hands on me. “Mmm, yes. That sous vide cooker thing is magical.”
“It appears so.”
As I give her shoulders a squeeze, I’m overwhelmed by gratitude for her.
“I love you, Mama. Thank you for everything, seriously—not just dinner.”
A slight ache suddenly prods at my throat, so I swallow at it.
“You and Daddy are so kind and loving. Theo and Beckett and I…we’re all blessed to have you guys.”
“Aw, honey.” She squeezes me back. “You’re welcome, but it’s no trouble at all, because we’re blessed to have all of you.”
I’m not sure my mood could get any better.
Once we have the dishwasher loaded and any leftovers put away, we finally head out to the shed. We learn Beckett loves my dad’s table so much that he’s been invited to come over again sometime soon and start studying beginner woodworking for himself.
“Really? Wow!” I say, once again catching his contagious smile. “That’s awesome! Do you know what you might wanna make?”
“Nope!” he replies brightly. It makes me laugh, which makes him laugh too. “Wanna help me look up ideas later?”
“Yes!”
As more light woodworking conversation goes on, Theo weaves through us adults while she chows down on a cookie. Soon she’s asking Beckett to hold her, so he does that. After a couple minutes, we find ourselves talking about her dance classes; my parents hadn’t been able to watch that one with me and Beckett because of a church commitment they’d already agreed to.
“Noelle was always such a wonderful dancer,” my mom remarks fondly after we’ve caught them up. “I love that Theo enjoys taking lessons of her own.”
Chortling, I say, “She’s already a better tapper than I am.”
“‘Tap, tap, tap, tap,’” she cuts in with a light kick of one leg, not bothering to stop snuggling Beckett’s shoulder. “‘This is my right foot! Tap, tap, tap, tap. Now step down!’”
He and I grin at each other. As we saw in her class, that’s the songlike thing her teachers recite when the girls are practicing simple tapping. Very cute and helpful to their young minds.
“I wanna watch a dance,” she adds.
With that, we all go back into the house. My parents don’t have any of my recital DVDs, but they can look up dance routine videos on YouTube.
As much as I love this kind of thing, it doesn’t take long for me to start yawning on the couch with this full stomach. It’s after eight o’clock, I see; here in a bit, it’ll be time for Theo to get ready for bed, and she still hasn’t done her surprise craft yet.
Maybe Beckett and I should head out soon and leave these sweethearts to their evening. Besides, the videos are bringing back a bit of my sadness about missing dance.
“Uh oh,” Dad says when he catches me yawning. “Getting sleepy?”
I shrug. “Oh, just a little.”
My mom waves a hand. “Well, we can’t have you dozing off early on your Friday night! How about y’all get going here in a minute and catch a movie or something?”
“There’s an idea,” Beckett muses.
Hmm. I haven’t seen a not-kid movie at the theater in a while.
In any case, yes, I want to make sure Theo gets her fun time in with Grammie and Papaw. I get to my feet, and we make a plan for what time I should come pick her up tomorrow.
Theo requests that we watch one more dance with her before we go, so we do. After that, goodbyes start going around. I hug her big and tell her how much I love her while Beckett hugs my parents. Then he and I switch. I ask one more time if we need to pay anything back for the de
licious dinner, and I get a, “Nope!” that’s as resolute as ever.
The three of them walk us to the front door, and my dad says, “Now, Beckett, you just holler when you think you wanna come start a project! We’ll get something planned!”
“Yes, sir! I can’t wait!”
I just love how excited they both are. What a fun idea. Maybe I’ll even wiggle my way into doing something small to help out, purely so I can say I did it.
We all exchange one last goodbye, and then he and I go on our way.
“I had a great time,” he says happily as we buckle up in the car.
“So did I. Thanks so much for coming.”
“Hell yeah, Ellie.”
I love that, too, simple a response though it is.
And something else, while I’m at it….
“You know,” I say more softly, “being called that really did annoy me so freaking much at first. I always wondered why I even admitted to not wanting a nickname, ‘cause all that did was encourage you and Cliff to give me one. It took years for me to start thinking, ‘Yeah, okay, I get it. I’m stuck with this joke.’ I finally got around to just rolling my eyes or whatever about it.” I fold my hands together in my lap. “But…well, thanks to you…now I love it.”
In the faint light from my parents’ porch and the car headlights, I watch a smile take over Beckett’s face.
“Oh, yeah?” he matches my tone. He finishes reversing out of the driveway. “I brought you around to it?”
“Yeah, you did.”
He slides that smile my way just for a moment.
Then he spends many moments doing nothing but watching the road.
Does it for so long that his smile fades into a pensive expression that reminds me of the one from the end of last night.
The way I felt then mixes with the way I feel now. Turning my gaze out my window, I both wonder what he’s thinking and enjoy how peaceful the quiet is.
“Do you know,” he murmurs at length, “that you are…that you’re forever finding ways to make me love myself even when I don’t feel unlovable in the first place? Not just when I do?”
Sharply sweet astonishment has me looking over at him again.
Still looking forward, he continues, “It’s not the same as how Cliff helped me. With you, it’s like I—I think I’m good, but then…. I don’t even realize I need something from you until you randomly give it to me. Then it’s there and I’m thinking, ‘Where has this been all my life? How did I go so long without this?’”
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