9
And the Crowd Goes Wild
Oh my god, the cheering.
The sheer volume that two innocent sets of delighted parents and an overly excitable housekeeper can achieve.
It’s possible I might’ve just upended ten or twenty plans that Nadine already set in motion when we were going to have our big ceremony in town at the Spruce Fellowship church. But judging from the giddy look on her face, I’ve apparently just given her and the room an early Christmas present. Everyone loves the idea of taking this whole thing down to the beaches of Dreamwood Isle, the gayest hot spot on the Texas coast.
Seeing the happiness and thrill on everyone’s faces fills me with so much comfort, I feel like I’m floating.
Nadine cackles when my ma suggests something about playing beach volleyball.
Jacky-Ann is discussing beach attire to my spaced-out pa, who probably hasn’t seen the beach in years.
The next thing I know, I’ve been yanked right back into the kitchen around the corner from the table. “Billy?” hisses Tanner, his eyes wide. “What’s—What was—The beach? We’re going to the beach now? What the heck is goin’ on?”
“I’ve not been myself,” I tell him. “That’s what’s goin’ on.”
“So we’re back to pretending we’re stayin’ together?”
“No.” I take hold of Tanner’s hands. “Wearestayin’ together.”
I expected him to ask a few more questions before he gets all teary-eyed, but the second I say those words, his eyes well right up like he’s got his own dam of emotion he’s been holding back. “Are you serious? We’re …?” He takes hold of my face suddenly like it’s a legendary lucky football. “We’re stayin’ together, babe? Really?”
“I’m not sayin’ this is gonna work. I’m not even sure it will. But maybe that’s part of the magic of bein’ with people you love when you’re not at your best. Trusting they’ll be there for you anyway.” I bring my hands to his. Now we’re both holding the legendary lucky football. “I think I forgot we’re in this together. I also need to be there for you when you’re goin’ through the mud. Or have another crushing loss with your football team.”
“Never gonna happen again,” he quickly mutters.
I bring his hands down from my face, peering into his eyes. “I know we … we don’t fit like we used to, Tanner …”
“I know,” he whispers.
“But that’s okay. Because I don’t think we’re supposed to. We are allowed to fit differently. In anewway. Like a … a worn-in pair of cleats. No one likes tight-ass new cleats straight outta the box.”
“Fuck no,” he agrees.
“I’m not done with you, Tanner. Not even close.”
He rushes for my lips before I can even take my next breath, and then we’re kissing. Hands still joined, fingers woven together. We’ve kissed countless times, but there is something different in the way he kisses me in this moment. It feels free and unburdened. It feels intentional, without a hint of misgiving or reluctance.
“I’m sure glad you’re not done with my ass,” he says after the kiss, “because I’ve got a confession to make.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Confession?”
Just then, Marcus and Joshua appear at the foot of the stairs. “What’s going on?” asks Joshua, his face wrinkled up as he looks at the loud and celebratory quintet in the dining room.
Nadine is straight out of her seat and rushing up in front of the boys. “We’re goin’ to the beach for the vow renewal ceremony! Isn’t that amazing, kids? The beach!”
Marcus and Joshua turn to look at us, wide-eyed.
That’s understandable; the kids have been seeing the behind-the-scenes of our lives in a way no one else in this room has, and none of this marital rollercoaster makes sense to them.
We owe the boys an explanation.
And that’s exactly what we give them when Tanner and I take the kids outside to the front porch and sit them down at Grandma Nadine and Grandpa Paul’s favorite reading spot. All the potted plants on this porch are named. I don’t know a single one of them.
“Dad and I have been a little strange lately,” I tell them. “Well, mostly me. Not Dad.”