Fix You (46 page)

             
“I didn’t picture a lot of things,” she reminded. “Expectations have a funny way of turning inside out.”

             
Chris ruffled Tyler’s hair and it was a familiar, affectionate gesture, one they were both comfortable with.

             
“Speaking of sick,” Jess said,” I have this suspicion that it wasn’t a sudden attack of conscience that made Dylan sign the papers.” She skated a sideways glance to her brother. “Did he have a little help seeing the light?”

             
Walt shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Maybe.” A grin quirked one corner of his mouth. “Just a little.”

             
She hadn’t seen him this relaxed in a long time. “How are things with you and Gwen?”

             
“Good. Better,” he amended. “We’re working on some stuff.”

             
“That’s good –  ”

             
“Jess!” Her sister called from all the way back in the kitchen. “Get in here!”

             
“Better see what she wants,” Walt gave her a light pop in the shoulder with the side of his fist. “She turns into a real bitch when you piss her off.”

             
She made a face. “Walter.”

             
He returned it, then smiled. “Jessica.”

             
In the kitchen, the women had congregated around the breakfast bar. All eyes swept toward her as she entered.

             
“Jess!” her mother said, scandalized. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

             
Jess glared at her sister.

             
“What?” Jo shrugged. “They forced it out of me.”

             
Beth asked, “He proposed to you?!”

             
Ellie was grinning like an idiot. “It’s so cosmic.”

             
“I had to tell them,” Jo said.

             
“Please say you’re having a wedding.” That was Delta. “I already have a half a dozen ideas in mind.”

             
“Let’s see the ring,” Gwen prompted.

             
Peace and privacy were foreign concepts to her family.

Dylan had hated her for that.

Chris was playing football with them.

“Yes,” she told her mom, “he proposed.” She
looked to Gwen: “But there’s no ring yet.” Then Ellie: “This is all your fault.” Ellie was grinning as she turned her gaze to Delta. “And no wedding. I want you to plan something else for me.”

35

             
T
he bra was red. In typical Jo fashion, it didn’t match the panties she’d laid out on the bed beside it – they were bright blue. But the bra…it was all satin and lace and little white bows on the straps. It was hot.

             
Tam lifted his head as his wife entered, wrapped in a towel, skin pink and hair wet from the shower.

             
“Is this new?” He tried to sound casual as he picked it up by the strap and handed it to her.

             
She twitched a grin. “You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight. I’m holding you to that promise about more babies, you know.”

             
His eyes followed the descent of the towel as she let it slip to the floor, then skipped back up, sad to watch her dress. When she was in her jeans and sweater, she twisted her hair up in the towel and gave him a big-eyed, curious look. Loose tendrils of hair curled above her ears. Her cheeks were still flushed from the hot water.

             
“What?” she asked.

             
He gave her the grin – the one that made her blush. “You look good.”

             
She smiled. “We have to go to Tyler’s party.”

             
“Yeah, but do we have to be on time?”

             
“Considering we live three steps away, I’m thinkin’ yeah.”

             
He caught her around the waist as she turned away from him. They’d played this particular game too long for either of them to pretend it was anything it wasn’t; she melted back against him without a word, head pressed back against his shoulder. The damp towel wound around her hair smelled like the coconut of her shampoo. Her eyes were bright almost-turquoise discs beneath the curled fringe of her lashes.

             
“Hey, Joey?”

             
“Hmm?”

             
“You happy?”

             
She tipped her face up, a curious smile curling the corners of her mouth. “Why are you even asking that?”

             
“I dunno.” He tightened his arms around her. “I just didn’t ever see us here, I don’t guess.”

             
She considered a moment, chewing at her lower lip. “I don’t think there’s some master plan at work here. We aren’t guaranteed a damn thing.” She smiled. “Considering that, I’d say we’re doing pretty good. Don’t ya think?”

             
He kissed her forehead.

             
“Yes,” Jo said. “I’m so happy.”

**

              The cover was black. With silver script. The barest silhouette of a house embossed beneath the title. Jordan’s hand smoothed over it at the kitchen table and his eyes were bright when he lifted them to her.

             
“You did it.”

             
“That’s just a proof copy,” Ellie said. “I still have some proofreading to do and I’m going to try and get some reviews for the inside jacket. Delta said she would help me and –  ”

             
“Baby.”

             
She sighed. “What?”

             
“You did it.” He slid her book across the table to her with one of his rare, honest smiles: the kind that flashed teeth and didn’t come with a mocking eye roll. “Take five minutes to appreciate the fact that you’re holding
your
book in your hands.”

             
“It doesn’t mean anything, though,” she told him. “I may never sell a copy.”

             
“So?”

             
Another sigh moved through her. Husbands did not, she had realized, have any objectivity when it came to wives. At least, hers didn’t. There were the Dylan Beaumonts of the world – looking for the next best thing; and then there were the Jordan Walkers – telling her how beautiful and talented she was, making her feel relevant at every turn.

             
“Well.” She put on a brave face and traced the spine of her proof with a fingertip. “At least the cover’s cool.”

             
The baby monitor crackled to life over on the counter and one of the girls let out a great pealing squeal before she launched into a crying jag: Lizzy.

             
“It’s good they’re awake.” She stood and pushed in her chair. “We’ve gotta be at Rosewood in half an hour for Tyler’s party.”

             
Jordan caught her wrist on the way out of the room and she turned to him, to the golden morning sunlight falling through his hair and picking out flecks of gold in his eyes. It was rare that they had moments together, just the two of them, without Paige or the girls. Now, even if the girls were squalling away upstairs, they were alone in the kitchen together. The moment fizzed: a fast, stolen shot of champagne.

             
“I’m proud of you,” he told her. “Whether or not it ever sells.”

             
Ellie caught his face in her hands and kissed him. “You
have
to be a smartass, Coach,” she said against his lips, “or the rest of the world would realize how damn sweet you are.”

             
He made a face when she pulled away, but the smile was there, underneath.

             
She realized something: The girls of his past hadn’t ever been witness to his sweet side. That side was all hers.

**

              The panties were pink. Or was it magenta? Fuchsia? He had no idea; he wasn’t a chick and he didn’t know the difference between all those damn chick colors. All he knew was that they were the kind that didn’t provide much in the way of coverage and he had a damn good view of his wife’s ass as she stood above him on the ladder. She was in a navy dress and pumps – no stockings even though it was December – and three steps above him in her library, she was flashing enough goods to make him glad it was him who’d come looking for her and not one of her brothers.

             
“Remember what I said when I came in here?” Chris asked.

             
She handed down the next present in the hidden cache she’d been retrieving. “That you’d chop this ladder into firewood if I climbed my pregnant ass up it again,” she repeated with a sigh. “Do you remember what
I
said?”

             
“To stuff it. But, I’ve been thinking.”

             
“Don’t you need a helmet for that?”

             
“Maybe ladder climbing isn’t as dangerous as I thought.” He took the last present and then her hand as she navigated the steps with her spike heels.

             
“Really?” She smirked as she landed beside him and fluffed her hair. “You looking up my dress makes it safer?”

             
He grinned. “Yes.”

             
She gave him a look that he’d come to learn meant she was, deep down, pleased by how much he cared. That she appreciated his knee-jerk protectiveness that came out like orders, and the way he couldn’t stop staring at her. If the stories about Dylan were anything to go by, then she hadn’t had either of those things in her life before. Just like she didn’t have Dylan in her life anymore.

             
Two weeks before, they’d made it official. With an embarrassingly cheap ring and an entourage too big for the courthouse, he’d married her. She’d met his parents and though she’d been shaking with nervous tremors –
“They’ll think I’m the biggest slut alive!”
she’d told him – his mother had been ecstatic to finally have a daughter-in-law: a pregnant one to boot. It had been a humble, simple thing, without fanfare or flowers. Talk of a honeymoon had been half-hearted because she had an inn to run and didn’t want to leave the whole place with her sister for so much as a weekend, not when business was picking up. Delta’s event planning skills had been put to use not on a ceremony for them, but for Tyler’s seventh birthday party. Chris had been happy to hand over the spotlight to the kid.

             
“If you’ll bring the rest of these,” Jess said as she knelt and gathered boxes, “then we should be about ready.”

             
When she stood, he took them from her. “You go ahead and I’ll bring all of them. You’ll trip over your hooker heels.”

             
“Hooker heels?” Her blonde brows gave a jump. “You’re just itching to sleep on the couch, aren’t you?”

             
He grinned. “A really expensive hooker, trust me.”

             
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced, but she put a hand on his chest and stretched up for a kiss. Her lips were liquid-soft with sheer gloss; her perfume was faint and floral. Her eyes, when she pulled back, were warm jungle green. “Thank you.”

             
He didn’t have to ask “what for” anymore. Knowing he’d done something to make this beautiful woman thankful was more humbling than he’d ever thought possible. She was wrong about one thing, though. She’d never needed fixing, just the chance to shine.

Epilogue

Three Years Later

             
T
he ordinary things. The everyday things. The daily, unchangeable things that were as steady as morning and midnight. Those were the things that snuck up on her and tugged at her heartstrings in the still, sunlit moments swimming with dust motes and ringing with birdsong beyond the screen door. The heavy gold waves of finely-spun hair down Maddie’s back, rustling against her lavender dress. The leap of Dean’s tiny eyebrows when he had the hiccups. The gangly lines and knobs of Tyler’s limbs as he chased the soccer ball across the lawn. The shadow of gray when morning sun raked through Chris’s thick hair. The unladylike shout of her sister’s laugh. The deep lines around Tam’s smile that evidenced a life of hell finally turned toward heaven. The three black-headed kids across the drive, her own children’s cousins.

             
“I still can’t believe you named him after a cartoon character,” she said, shaking her head as she glanced at the baby in Jo’s arms.

             
They sat on the top step, on the sturdy planks of the porch floor of the main house. Jo tucked the blanket around her three-week-old and smoothed the fine dusting of dark hair on his little head. “He’s named after Dad,” she corrected, like she’d been correcting everyone since he’d been born. “But like hell are we sticking him with ‘Randall’ or ‘Little Randy’ or something like that.” She squared up her little shoulders. “I think Race is a cool name.” She threw a challenging look at Jess. “What girl doesn’t want to go home from a bar with a guy named Race?”

             
“You know, you can admit that Willa and Avery named him if you want.”

             
She made a face. “The girls wanted to name him Buttface. So no, thanks, I think I’ll take credit.”

             
Race Wales: Jess was convinced the kid would have to grow up to be a rockstar to live down that name. But since when had Tam and Jo done things the traditional way?

             
“Is the Ferguson wedding still on for this weekend?” Jo asked. “I heard there was some sort of bachelor party drama that threw a wrench in things.”

             
“It’s on,” Jess nodded. “The bride’s father made the final payment today. This time tomorrow, we’ll be crawling with out of town yuppies.”

             
“Sweet.”

             
“Mama?” Madison said and Jess turned to regard her daughter. She was sprawled on her stomach on the porch floor, coloring in a patch of sunlight, blonde hair fanning around her little cherub face.

             
“What?”

             
“When’s Daddy getting home?”

             
“Any minute now –  ”

             
Gravel crunched on the drive and, as if she’d planned it, Chris’s truck crested the final hill and rolled up to the house.

             
Maddie was on her feet in a flash, dress flying behind her as she went down the far set of porch steps and bolted across the yard. Tyler scooped up his ball and headed that direction too, at a more dignified, mature, ten-year-old pace. In his play pen down the porch, Dean grabbed the side rail and pulled himself up: he was a big ten-month-old and was going to grow into a big, dark-haired man like his father. At the swings, Willa and Avery still played, their hair gleaming almost blue in the afternoon light.

             
Jess breathed deep; the summer heat had baked the smell of roses and wild honeysuckle into the air. It smelled of three summers, of countless evenings like this one: watching their babies grow and waiting for their menfolk. They lived the most ordinary of lives – the kind of non-exciting lives that they’d scorned as little girls: wives, mothers, business owners. Sisters. Aunts.