“It’s not on you I reacted like a bitch.”
“Yeah, it is, ’cause I know you. So maybe you shouldn’t have reacted that way, but you wouldn’t have if I’d told you what I was gonna do.”
“Still, Toby, I’ll get a lock on my independent streak when you’re trying to do something nice for me. Or at least talk things out before I say something bitchy.”
It took a minute before he muttered, “Obliged.”
I pulled in a deep breath and said carefully, “Um . . . the crib?”
“I want you in my bed and I don’t want us to have to fork Brooks off on someone else to have you there. I also like my place, so I like to spend time there, and when I do and I got Brooks, I want him to feel at home. But bottom line, he’s part of what we got, and he didn’t have space in my space. Now he does.”
While he spoke, I walked into the room and was standing at the crib, running a hand over the blanket when he was done.
“You were gonna show this to me when you got home, weren’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“I ruined your surprise,” I whispered.
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t. This blanket is insanely cute, and I feel the need to share how much I like how cute it is and do that in person.”
“I’ll be home in an hour. You can blow me after I get out of the shower. And I’m takin’ you wherever you wanna go to eat to celebrate you getting that job before we hit Lora’s. Deal?”
I smiled at the crib. “Deal, Toby.”
“Love you, babe. See you soon.”
“Love you too, honey.”
We disconnected.
I traced a blue bear in the blanket with my finger.
You’re a Gamble.
“Those boys really do not fuck around,” I whispered.
Toby had bought a crib.
And sheets.
For my son.
To be in his house.
As much as I loved that—and make no mistake, I seriously loved that—a thought I hadn’t thought in a long time came crashing into my brain.
It was a thought I had to think.
And it was a situation I had to deal with.
I finished tracing the bear, went back down to get my bag, and took it upstairs to shower grocery store smock smell off me and put in the work to glamorize myself for Toby.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot.”
I was sitting on the other side of the black granite countertop in Toby’s (mostly) all-wood bathroom while Tobe stood at the basin (one of two) that he used, slicking product into his crazy-awesome hair.
He was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.
It was post-shower (for him and me, though I was already ready), post-blowjob (for him, which meant my carefully coiffed hair was now sex hair and I hadn’t gotten any . . . yet) and now he was getting down to business getting ready.
The mystique of Toby being all things Toby had been explained over the weeks we were together. He had one product for his hair and he trimmed his own beard.
It still managed to be a mystique.
I could get caught up in watching it unfold (easily), but I wanted to get the heavy out of the way so we could go on and have a great night.
“I read the offer. They explained it’s due to experience they’re offering me the low end of the salary range. And I’ve done the budgets. If I take it, it’ll cover all necessities. But it won’t leave much left over for things like food and clothes and stuff. I couldn’t start up Johnny’s payments again, and I’d probably have to ask Margot to do daycare full time, which, nothing against Margot, I’m not sure it would be good for Brooks. He needs to be around other kids. Learn to share. Shit like that.”
“Then don’t take it,” Toby said, running his comb under the water in the sink to rinse the texturizing clay from it.
“Well, during the interview, they said that one of their secretaries is going to be retiring next fall and they like to promote from within, so if I got the job, and I was interested, she could start training me right away. I looked up legal secretaries’ salaries. They make good cake. Like, serious good cake. And that sounds all kinds of interesting to me, learning about the law and working close to an attorney. And like you said, it’s in Matlock. I won’t have to work weekends. I won’t have to worry about leaning on anyone for wonky hours to watch Brooklyn. But I don’t think making cards is going to catch that kind of slack.”
He turned to me. “Babe—”
I lifted a hand. “Before you say it. I’m going after Perry for child support.”
He shut his mouth but opened it again right away to say, “I need jeans for this shit.”
I sucked in my lower lip and bit it.
He went into the master closet (which was the shit, all railings and drawers and slanted shelves so you could see your shoes, killer).
He came out buttoning up some jeans, and apparently he needed jeans for this conversation, but not a shirt, which worked for me.
He came right to me, put a hand on the countertop on each side of my hips and his face in mine.
“Okay, hit me,” he invited.
“It’s Christmas and Perry hasn’t called. He hasn’t done anything at all to keep up with Brooklyn, and I don’t just mean child support. So I think I should find time to call him, remind him it’s Christmas, tell him his son is fine, remind him about his monthly visits and his support obligations, a soft lob that, if he continues to ignore his son, later will help me clobber him with suing for support.”
I lifted my hands and put them on either side of Toby’s neck.
“It’s the right thing for Brooklyn,” I told him. “I should try. For my son. But more, he’s Perry’s son too and it’s just simply not fair I’m shouldering this all on my own, leaning on you, on Iz and Johnny, on friends.”
“It isn’t—”
I squeezed his neck. “No, Tobe, I’m good with it. I know no one minds. But it’s not right. He’s supposed to send six hundred and twenty-five bucks a month. For me and Brooks to live at Izzy’s, with food, half-week daycare, and nothing else, it’s over two thousand. He’s going to grow, need clothes, books at school, eat more food, play Pop Warner, I don’t know. It’s just going to get harder, and I’m not the only one who made him.”
“Yeah,” Toby agreed.
“I don’t know if he’ll ever pay. I don’t know if he’ll ever start seeing his son regularly. I just know I have to try. That job at the firm, if Perry paid, we wouldn’t be rolling in it, but I could take care of my son. Even set something aside so if we hit anything ugly, we’d have a cushion. But it isn’t just that. I have to try to get my son’s father in his life, and if he doesn’t father up, okay. That’s on Perry. But if he does, and Perry gets his shit together, at least for his boy, then Brooks will have his dad.”
Toby’s face was carefully blank, even if his voice was warm and encouraging, when he said, “Whatever you need from me, you got it.”
But I was stuck on his blank face.
“Do you not think it’s the right thing to do?” I asked.
“I think you’re his mom and you’re the only one who knows what’s right for your son.”
“And I think you’ve been more of a father to him than Perry even before we got together, so I’m honestly asking your opinion.”
“That’s right,” he replied.
“Trying to get Perry to see his son and pay support?”
“No. That I’ve been more of a father to him than that asshole has ever been.”
It was me who went silent at that.
“Addie,” he pushed off his hands but didn’t move away, though he did slide my hair off my shoulder then run a finger down my jaw, “bottom line is, you’re his mom. You have to do what you think is right. I don’t think it’s bad to call him at Christmas and remind him he has a kid. Just check in. Let him know Brooks is doin’ good. Then maybe think on the rest and call him
again after the holiday if he doesn’t pick up or call back.”
“I’m not . . . I’m not . . .” I stared up at his face and forced myself to push it all out. “I’m not sure that’s the bottom line.”
“What’s the bottom line?”
Blue bears and teepees and Toby pushing down that thing on the stroller with his boot because he’d done that before.
Repeatedly.
“What are we doing here?” I whispered.
His head jerked. “Getting ready to go to dinner.”
“No. What if Perry never comes back?”
“It’ll suck for Brooks, and we’ll have to handle that so he doesn’t have issues like me with my mom. We’ll have to do somethin’ like what Daphne did with you and Izzy because it doesn’t seem you got issues around your dad. Keep him happy, loved and whole.”
We’ll have to handle that . . .
We’ll have to do somethin’ . . .
We’ll . . .
Keep him happy, loved and whole.
I took in a mammoth breath.
Then I asked, “If you and I go all the way, and Perry stays absent, would you consider adopting him?”
His brows shot together. “When we go all the way, and if that fuckwad keeps bein’ a fuckwad, I’m going to adopt him.”
Oh my God.
Holy shit.
Oh my God.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Addie?”
I had a hand up to him like I was fending him off, one at my throat, which hurt like fuck, and I was fighting for breath.
Both his hands were cupping my jaw and his face was in mine when he demanded, “Adeline, what the fuck?”
“You love him,” I wheezed.
His brows shot together again, not looking perplexed, looking ticked.
“Yeah, I love him. Jesus, Addie, I bought a fuckin’ crib and changing table for him. I was thinkin’ of makin’ that into a poker room. Can’t do that if I only got one extra bedroom and a kid who needs his sleep.”
Oh my God.
Holy shit.
Oh my God.
My head dropped of its own accord and then planted itself in Toby’s chest.
“Jesus, Addie,” he repeated on a whisper.
I saw the first tear land and wet my jeans with a dark dot.
My shoulders heaved with the effort of holding more of that wet back.
“Jesus, baby,” he said softly.
Then I was up in his arms and we were out of the bathroom, and I was down again, held close to him, his back against his headboard, me in his lap and tight to his chest.
He’d carried me to a bed before, once, when Perry tore me apart.
And damned if it didn’t happen again, months later, when Toby put me back together.
Damn.
I couldn’t stop it.
I tilted my head back, shoved my face in his neck and sobbed.
“Addie, honey,” he cooed, “you’re ruining your makeup.”
“I do-don’t care,” I wailed.
“Okay,” he murmured, holding me with one arm, running his fingers through my hair with his other hand.
“I-I-I’m gonna try just once, for Christmas, with Perry. If he doesn’t pick up or call back, I’m done with him.”
“Okay, Addie.”
“He-he’s got a dad. He might not have his father. But Brooks has already got a dad.”
“Yeah.”
That easy answer made my body hitch painfully, I shoved deeper into his neck, and cried harder.
“It’s not that big a deal, honey. He’s not a hard kid to love,” Toby murmured soothingly.
That made me yank my face out of his neck and put it in his.
“Yeah? So where’s his father?”
“Okay, baby.”
“Perry’s never fed him breakfast.”
“Okay.”
“Perry’s never shoved that thing down with his boot that locks his stroller.”
“Okay.”
“Perry’s never given him a bite of his caramel cashew chocolate cluster.”
Toby shoved my face back in his throat and crooned, “Okay, baby. Okay, Addie. Just calm down and cry it out. Hmm, honey?”
My breath snagged about fifteen times as I drew it in to try to calm down. It hurt, so I stopped trying, just cried it out, and eventually that calmed me down.
“You good?” Toby asked when I was down to snuffling.
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“Take the job. You’re probably gonna be livin’ here sometime in the next few months anyway. Means expenses will take a dive and it’s all gonna be okay.”
God, that made me so happy.
For so many reasons.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“You got ties to the acres I gotta worry about?”
“Your house is dope, Toby. And it matches my bathroom accessories better.”
He chuckled and gathered me closer.
I lifted my head out of his neck and caught his eyes.
“Sorry I got all hysterical.”
“You let him go and you finally came to understand how in I am with you, and the only woman I ever saw who loved her children like you love Brooks was Margot, so I reckon that kinda thing would bring on some hysterics.”
I nodded, once again happy that Toby had it going on and was so wise.
“Waterproof mascara?” he asked.
“Did it hold up?”
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Addie. Normally. Dolled up. In the morning without makeup. Taking my cock. Coming. And also crying. Prettiest crier I ever saw.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, grinning at him.
He grinned back but declared, “I’m not joking.”
I lifted a hand, ran it down his beard at his cheek, tugged at the end and said, “I love you loads, Talon McHotterson.”
“And I love you loads back, Lollipop McGorgeouson.”
I started laughing slow, more, more, until I was giggling myself sick in his arms.
McGorgeouson.
My guy was funny.
Toby held me in his arms while I did it, smiling at me.
Eventually, we had to get up so I could see if he was correct about the damage, we could celebrate my new job, I could phone Izzy and share (also telling her I might need to raid her wardrobe for a while, not to mention check in on my kid) and we could start the Christmas festivities with a new friend.
So we did that.
But I did it thinking it was the second-best day of my life.
Though there was something uniquely special about it.
And this was the fact I knew, after all that, the entire day, from waking up to Toby, to Margot and the wedding boards, to the crib and changing table, to the revelation of how in Toby was with Brooklyn and me, those kinds of days would keep coming.
“Oh my God! You are my hero!” Lora shouted the minute she saw us walk into her cute, crackerbox house in town.
She then started clapping.
And she was looking at Toby.
“What the fuck?” Toby said under his breath to me.
Lora came our way, still clapping but ended it with her palms together, brought her hands to her forehead, and she did a few half bows to him before she stopped.
“Uh, hey, Lora, Merry Christmas,” I said, offering her the bottle of wine with a big bow that we brought.
Toby had the red cellophane bag with the last quarter pound of our nut clusters (a difficult gift to give up, for all of us) tied in a green bow.
He didn’t offer it.
He (and I) were watching Lora laugh.
She stopped doing that, took the wine from me, and proclaimed, “No, I’m not drunk. And no, I’m not on other substances. And last, no, I’m not crazy.” She focused on Toby. “I just heard you gave Jocelyn hell for being Jocelyn, and hun, when I heard that, it was like Santa came early.”
Ah.
“Happy to be of service,” Toby muttered, sounding uncomfortable.
“Dud
e, do not go there,” Lora advised then pointed at herself. “She stole my boyfriend in fifth grade and my prom date my junior year.” She turned and pointed across the room. “Sheree, told everyone she had chlamydia, so the state-winning, one-hundred-meter butterfly champion didn’t ask her to homecoming.” She looked to me. “And you know those swimmers’ bods. Oowee.”
She made another turn and pointed.
“Brandy, also boyfriend theft.” Another shift of her pointed finger. “Carolyn, stole all her clothes at gym so she had to walk to the school offices in a towel. Bea,” she leaned to us and whispered, “got her fiancé blotto and blew him in a place Bea would see them three weeks before the wedding.”
“Holy crap,” I breathed.
She lifted her hand and spelled out different letters as she said, “Totally see you next Tuesday.” Again, her attention went to Toby. “When I heard you called her a bitch and said she was even bad at faking it, I think I laughed for three hours straight. She was into you in high school. She was into you after high school. You were her Holy Grail. And she got to the cave with the old dude, grabbed the wrong goblet, aged a thousand years and turned to ash. She chose . . . poorly.”
With that, she started cackling.
I couldn’t help it, I started laughing with her.
It took time, but she got control of herself (and so did I).
And then she said something for which I’d be forever grateful.
“I mean, everyone knew you were the cool Gamble brother, but with that, and uh . . . other stuff,” her gaze slid to me then back to Toby, “you proved it irrevocably.”
I felt Tobe had gone solid at my side.
“Not that Johnny isn’t cool, but I mean, you got it goin’ on,” she finished hurriedly. “When she heard you were coming tonight, Bea wanted to make you a fake key to Matlock and present it to you. Jocelyn works in the city. Rumor has it she’s looking for places up there so she can move. So, uh . . .” she seemed to belatedly read his vibe, “at the very least, let me get you a beer.”
“Great,” Toby said kind of tightly.
The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil Series Book 2) Page 24
