Falling Into Us (42 page)

The crowd was dead silent. Colton flipped up the lid of the ring box with his thumb, holding it up toward Nell. Light caught the facets of a diamond, glinting bright in the dim bar. Nell slid off the stool and knelt with Colt.

“You’re supposed to stay up there until I say the words, babe,” Colt said, laughing.

The crowd laughed with him, but quickly fell silent again.

“Yes!” Nell said, the breathed word caught by the mic.

“I haven’t asked yet, babe.” Colt took the ring from the box, held Nell’s hand in his, and slid the ring onto her finger. “Nell, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Nell flung herself into Colton’s arms, the mic popping deafeningly as their bodies collided.
 

The mic was caught between their bodies, pressed so close the sound of their heartbeats pounding in overlapping rhythm.

“Now,
that’s
a proposal,” Jason muttered.

I turned to him and snuggled up against him, nuzzling underneath his jaw with my nose. “Ours was perfect. I would have killed you if you’d proposed in public.”

He squeezed my shoulder, and we joined the crowd in whistling and cheering as Nell and Colt stood up and kissed deeply, as if they’d momentarily forgotten they had an audience. After a few minutes, Nell and Colt squeezed through the crowd, responding as they came to the numerous pats on the back and congratulations. We chatted idly with Jason’s teammates and then slipped away, leaving Circle Bar and catching the St. Charles streetcar line. We ended up in a tiny cafe far off the beaten path, having left the streetcar and meandered through the city on foot until we found an open doorway and inviting smells.
 

Over coffee and beignets, Nell and I inevitably turned the discussion to wedding plans while the boys talked cars, football, and the latest developments in some show they both watched.

“You’re my maid of honor, obviously,” Nell said.

“Obviously. So when is the wedding?”

Nell shrugged, sipping her coffee. “I have no clue. I didn’t know he was planning this. I honestly had no idea. I’d been hoping, of course, and I’d dropped a couple conversational hints—”

“Nelly, sweets, your hints are like a bludgeon upside the head.” Colt chuckled as he delivered this line. “You worked it into conversation at least six times a day.”

She frowned at him. “I was not that bad.”

Colt just stared at her. “You’ve got, like, ten episodes of
Say Yes to the Dress
on DVR.”

Nell ducked her head. “So?”

Colt’s electric blue eyes softened. “So I took the hint.”

Jason snickered. “Got news for ya, buddy. Those episodes of
Say Yes to the Dress
? Only gonna get worse. Believe me. Then there’s
Four Weddings
, plus there’s bridesmaids’ editions of
Say Yes
, and…oh, yeah, don’t forget
Say Yes Atlanta
. Can’t miss that.”

Colt’s face visibly paled. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “That show makes my balls shrivel. I always feel like I need to, like, take a shit or work out or something just to get my testosterone back after she’s done watching that shit.”

Jason laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair. “Trust me, I know all too well. We’d sit down to watch TV, and I’m thinking
Law and Order
or
Dexter
or something, but no, she turns on that bullshit, and my choices are sit and watch it, or go in a different room by myself, or have an argument. But when you’ve been gone all day and you just wanna chill with your girl, shit…it’s not much of a choice, is it? Pussy-whipped isn’t holding your wife’s purse while she’s in the changing room, or going home instead of hanging with the guys. Oh no, pussy-whipped is watching back-to-back episodes of a show about goddamn wedding dresses because it’s easier than fighting about it. The worst part is when you start to have actual opinions on the dresses, and liking certain saleswomen in the store more than others. You know you’ve lost your man-card when that happens.” He leaned forward and shoved half a beignet in his mouth, just to prove a point. “Here’s the deal, though. Real men watch girly shit with their wives, and they don’t bitch about it. Because you know what? When you’re done watching that girly shit, your woman is happy. And what do happy women do? They take you to bed and bang your brains out.”

Nell snorted, Colt laughed so hard he nearly spat his coffee out, and I turned to Jason and smacked him on the arm. “Well, that was crass,” I said.
 

He shrugged, grinning. “I’m just making a point. Am I wrong?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “As it happens, no. You’re not. But you could have made your point with less cursing.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jason grinned. “I like swearing. It makes things more interesting.”

“Agreed,” Colt said, sticking out his fist, and Jason tapped his knuckles against Colt’s.

“So,” Nell said, in an effort to change the subject, “when do we get to meet your son?”

“How long are you guys in town for?” Jason asked.

“Till Monday,” Colt answered. “We have a show in Biloxi on Tuesday.”

“I’ve got practice most of the day during the week, but we have a shortened practice on Saturday since we’re playing Sunday. So maybe y’all can come over for dinner Saturday?”
 

“Sounds good,” Nell said. “That gives us time to explore New Orleans a bit anyway.”

Saturday was only two days away, and I had a huge paper due for class that Friday. Mom and Dad were asleep on the couch when Jason and I got home a few hours later, Ben passed out across their laps, sprawled out as only a toddler can do. Jason carried Ben up to his crib while I shook my parents awake so they could go to bed in the guest suite.
 

In bed, Jason turned to face me, his eyes heavy with sleepiness. “Does Nell know what Benny’s middle name is?”

I sighed. “I don’t think so. It’s never come up, I guess. I just call him Ben, or Benny.”

As soon as we’d found out the gender of the baby growing inside me, I’d decided to name him Ben, and Jason had agreed. It seemed only natural, then, to give him Kyle’s name as well. I knew Nell was doing worlds better these days, but I also knew reminders were still hard. After all, it was still difficult for me to talk about my brother without getting choked up, so I imagined it must be similar for Nell.
 

*
 
*
 
*

Becca

Two days later

Mom and Dad had gone back to Michigan and Jason was still at practice, so I was home alone with Benny, trying to cook dinner and get the house cleaned before Colt and Nell showed up. Jason’s salary even as a rookie was enough that we could have afforded help around the house, but I felt strange about paying someone else to take care of my child or clean my toilet, so I’d put my foot down. Today, however, I found myself halfway wishing I had someone else around to keep Benny out of trouble.

He was a fearless one, my little boy. He had no qualms about climbing on to the back of a couch and throwing himself off, just to see what would happen. He also had a penchant for climbing onto the kitchen table and toppling backward off it. The first few times I heard the
thump
and the subsequent squeal, I felt like the worst mother in the world. Even though I’d only turned my back for five seconds to fill his sippy cup, I still felt as though I should’ve been watching him more closely. He never hurt himself, I came to realize. His cries after falling off the table were more from fear and embarrassment than actual pain, since he never seemed to learn. He would fall off, crack his head on the floor, scream and kick his feet until I kissed him and hugged him all better, but then he would be right back up on the table five minutes later, giggling and doing the booty-scoot across the table….straight off the edge once more.

Now, with my hands drenched in raw chicken juice as I trimmed the fat off a bag of boneless skinless breasts, I heard the telltale impish giggling of Ben doing something he would regret in about ten seconds. I turned away from the counter with the carving knife held point up, effluvia-coated other hand held away from my body, scanning the open-plan kitchen and living room.
 

“Benny! God, you little troublemaker!” I huffed.
 

He was standing on top of the flat-topped, waist-high entertainment center, a red and yellow plastic hammer in one hand and his favorite stuffed giraffe in the other. He was bouncing up and down, the butt end of the hammer shoved into his mouth, muffling his giggles. He was daring me to come and get him, I knew. He’d pushed his miniature folding
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
camp chair over to the entertainment center so he climb up onto it and was now doing a
come-and-get-me-Mom-I-dare-you
dance, waving Giraffey at me.
 

I set the knife down and nudged the faucet on with my wrist, washing my hands swiftly while keeping one eye glued to Ben the entire time. I was a good fifteen feet away from him, across the kitchen, so if he started to fall, there wasn’t much I could do to stop him. I dried my hands cursorily on the hand towel hanging from the microwave handle and then approached Ben. It was kind of like a lion stalking prey; if I moved too quickly, Benny would bolt in an attempt to get away, so I had to move slowly and non-threateningly until I was close enough to lunge for him. As soon as I got within arm’s reach, Benny scrambled onto his belly, searching for the bottom of the chair with his little toes, giggling wildly and watching me over his shoulder. I scooped him up into my arms and rolled him so his tan little belly was exposed. He shrieked and kicked, but he couldn’t stop the raspberry. He didn’t really want me to stop anyway, but the fight was part of the fun for him.
 

“You can’t be up there, you little monkey,” I told him between raspberries. “You gotta stay off the TV stand, silly. No, Benny. No.” I pointed at the entertainment center as I said “no,” serious now.

Ben caught my stern tone and wiggled to get down. “I do.” He scrambled up onto the chair and made to climb back onto the TV stand. He patted the top of the dark-stained wood with his little hand. “I do.”

I scooped him up again and crossed the living room, tossing him onto the couch. “You don’t. No, Benny.
No
. No climbing.”

He made an angry face at me and smacked my arm. “I
do
.”

I caught his hand before he could smack me again and gave him a stern glare. “No, sir. No hitting. You don’t hit Mommy.”

He rubbed his eyes then, toys still firmly gripped in each hand. “Mama.” He leaned forward and bumped me with his forehead, pretending to cry now.

I gathered him up and sat him on my lap. “That’s right. Be nice to Mommy.” I turned his face up to mine. “Kisses?”

He pressed his cheek to my lips so I could kiss him and then scrambled off my lap, running at full-tilt toddler speed, cackling, “I do, I do!”

Right on to the table. I sighed, waited until he was solidly on the tabletop, and then scooped him up and plopped him back on the couch. “How about a show so Mommy can finish dinner before Auntie Nell and Uncle Colt get here?”

He waved his hammer and giraffe at the TV. “House, house, house!”
 
he chanted, meaning he wanted
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
.
 

I turned on a DVR’d episode of his favorite show and ruffled his curly dark hair. “Now stay out of trouble for five consecutive minutes,
please
.”

I managed to get dinner made by the time Jason came home, slamming the door to the garage with his foot.
 

“Where’s my little man?” he called, dropping his gear bag on the floor of the laundry room and peeling his sweat-stained tank top off. Jason hated showering at the team gym for some reason, so he always came home sweating and smelly. It may have been because he knew it turned me on, though. I hadn’t changed yet, so had no problem with letting him wrap his sweat-slick arms around me and kiss me breathless.

Benny came running around the corner at that moment, show forgotten. He slammed into Jason’s legs and clawed at his shorts, trying to get up. Jason scooped him up, tossed him into the air, and caught him, nibbling at his belly until Benny squealed and wiggled free.
 

“Give Daddy a kiss,” Jason said, kneeling down to Benny’s level.
 

Benny threw himself at Jason and gave him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on his chin.
 

I huffed in exasperation. “Ugh. He’ll give you a kiss, but he won’t give me one. He’ll let
me
kiss
him
, but he won’t kiss me. No fair.”

Jason laughed. “He must just love me best.” He clutched Ben against him in mock-possessiveness.
 

I made a sad face and turned away, pretending to cry. “I want a kiss,” I wailed.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Benny glanced at Jason in consternation, then to me.

“Better give her a kiss,” Jason advised. “Mommy gets very sad when she doesn’t get kisses.”

Benny wiggled out of Jason’s grip and toddled over to me, wrapping his arms around one of my legs and peering up at me in concern. “Mama?”
 

I kneeled down and held him by his shoulders. “Can I have a kiss, just like Daddy?”

Benny smiled at me and gave me a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “I do,” he said, which was his phrase for just about every situation.

“I’m gonna shower and change real quick, then I’ll finish dinner so you can get ready,” Jason said. “What time are they coming?”

“Six-thirty,” I said, “and it’s already a quarter to six, so hurry up.”

By the time I’d finished showering and getting ready, Nell and Colt had already arrived and were on the living room floor playing with Benny while Jason finished the sides and set the table. I stood on the middle stair, unseen as yet, watching Nell help Benny stack blocks while Colt tried to knock them down, much to Benny’s delight. As soon as they had four or six colored wooden blocks stacked up, Colt would drive a toy truck through the bottom, making the kind of rumbling, sputtering engine noise only a boy could make. Benny would shriek and laugh when the tower of blocks fell, turning to Nell and handing her an armload of blocks so she could stack them again.