Tarr’s throat burned like he’d swallowed acid, and he forced himself to nod. “Why don’t you want to talk about marriage yet? Are we going too fast?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “But remember, I’m still getting used to the idea of me being married at all, and it has nothing to do with you, Tarr, and everything to do with me.”
He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. Wouldn’t the heavens open and angels be singing for Briar if marrying him was the right thing to do? Couldn’t God give her that reassurance or those experiences, or whisper in her ear, theway He had about other things, to help her along this road a little bit faster?
Tarr coached himself to be patient. He pulled up to Briar’s house, and they got out and went inside. He snatched her hand just before she reached for the doorknob. “Hey, I just want to ask you one more thing,” he said. “And then I swear I’ll drop it until you bring it up again.”
She sighed and turned back to him.
“And if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to answer. It’s your birthday, and that’s always been our rule. But I guess I’m wondering what you need to see, or have happen, or something in order to see yourself getting married. Is there anything I can do? Because I don’t know the words to tell you that I think you’re absolutely stunning in every way, and you’re smart and you’re beautiful, and you’re funny, and you make me smile. And I just—I don’t thinkyoufeel like you’re amazing, but you are, and I don’t know how to tell you that.”
Her chin shook as she moved closer to him, stepping into his arms. “You just did, cowboy.”
“But you don’t believe it,” he said, finally putting the pieces together. “That’s it, right? You hear me say it, but you don’t believe it.”
She nodded, her eyes falling closed. “You’re right. I don’t believe it. Can we please not talk about this on my birthday? I don’t want to be reminded of the things that made me this way, or why I’m choosing to be like this. Everything about this day has been perfect, Tarr. Including you. So can we just table this until another time?”
“Of course,” he said, because he’d gotten the answers he needed already. He didn’t have to like them, but at least he’d gotten them.
thirty-three
Bobbie Jo Hammond glanced over to her mother. “Mom, you got the job.” She gave her a smile and focused on the highway in front of her again.
“Yes.” Her momma sighed, and Bobbie Jo wished she could feel the same relief driving through her.
“So…are you going to go look at that condo?” Bobbie Jo refused to look at her mother, though they’d had a couple of conversations about the temporary-ness of the current living situation.
If Bobbie Jo wanted to stay married—and she did—she really needed her parents to have a plan—a real plan—to get their own place.
“I suppose,” her mother said. “Your father is enjoying the work at the farm.”
“I’m glad.” Bobbie Jo made her voice as bright as possible. “That condo is really close to both places.” She wouldn’t let this go; she couldn’t.
Her parents never found satisfaction in anything, though they smiled and laughed and said things like, “Your father is enjoying the work at the farm.”
At least Daddy had found a job working with horses at a training stable and wasn’t working for Tucker anymore. That had only lasted a couple of weeks, and apparently, winter in Colorado was far harsher than those in Oklahoma.
Bobbie Jo had experienced them both, and she knew they were about the same.
Exactly the same, she thought dryly. But she tamed that inner grump, and sweetened all her saltiness.
“Mom,” she said. “Tucker and I wanted to talk to you about perhaps building a house on the farm.” She flicked a glance over to her mother, but didn’t make contact. This road sat straight and long, but Bobbie Jo’s nerves rioted.
“There’s a great parcel right on the highway,” she said, her words rushing over each other now. “Easy on and off the property, and you’d have your own place.”
“Oh, Bobbie Jo.” Her mother sighed again, but this time, it didn’t carry any of the relief as before.
“What?” she asked. “Tarr knows a great general contractor, and his house is almost done.”
“I can’t let you two give us land and build us a house.”
Bobbie Jo blinked, because her mother and father had taken everything—every single thing—she and Tuck had offered them since they’d arrived in Tulsa a few days before Christmas.
“So….”
“We’re going to go look at the condo next week,” her mom said. “I’ll call the realtor today.”
So she hadn’t even done that yet. Bobbie Jo gritted her teeth, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to mother her mother,
