And this is the first time I’ve been in six years. Trauma has managed to erase almost all of my memories of the last time Icame to this barbecue, leaving the beautiful opportunity to make new memories.
A few people are surprised to learn that I married Quinn, but when they learn she’s the filmmaker that came to town to make a movie about me, they can’t stop cooing and awwing. Everyone is buying it.
I don’t think it’s because we’re good liars.
Sadie plays with Petunia and Alice on the swing set while Tate, Love (with Lola on her lap), Quinn, and I enjoy a few beers under the Edison lights, watching the girls laugh and play. We chat, and people shuffle over to say hello, kicking up dirt, laughing a little too loud, hugging hard.
Tonight I remember that Sable Sky is a wonderful place to live, I just haven’t been living.
I’ve been surviving, barely. But under the lights, all the people that matter to me nearby, amidst the dust and full of desire, I feel like I can finally breathe.
For the first time in a long time.
CHAPTER 18
I’M MEETIN’ MOM
I sipmy coffee and scratch at the side of my jaw, trying to be very patient.
“When’s she comin’ down?” Sadie whines, scooping a spoonful of Lucky Charms. We’re out of milk, and money’s been tight. Even tighter than normal. I skipped pancakes this morning in favor of an apple off the tree out back and gave Sadie a bowl from the emergency box of cereal. The eggs I collected this morning were no good, every single one of them failing the float test in the kitchen sink. I’m trying to tell myself those chickens aren’t sick and that selling my eggs a few times a week—one of my only sources of reliable income—isn’t about to evaporate.
I’m not sure, though, and I have less than fiveweeks to go until I win that money. I’m not even letting myself consider not winning.
It’s not even on the table.
Outside, the school bus rolls up. “Sadie Ruth, the bus is here.”
“But I didn’t get to say goodbye to Miss Quinn!” she complains, and I nod, helping her out of her chair while tugging her backpack off the hook.
“I know it, but you two will have the whole afternoon together. All right?” I place my thumb on the corner of her mouth, where a frown is hanging, and say, “Magic tap.” Her lips curve into a smile, and I kiss her forehead. “Have a good day, sweetheart. And I promise, you can stay with Miss Quinn this afternoon while she films, okay?”
She nods, and after a wet kiss on my cheek, runs off, joining Petunia as they climb the steps to the bus. Tate strolls over, ready for a day of work, but not at Vaughn Ranch.
“Mendin’ a fence for Mabel at the inn today,” he says, waving at our girls as the bus tugs away from us.
I nod back to the house, thinking of a very brief conversation Quinn and I had last night. She shared that she wanted to tell her mom and sister about the plan, about the marriage. But after Sadie had a nightmare, we never revisited, and this morning, she’s holed up in her room or mine. Because it’s on my mind, I tell Tate. “Quinn has decided we should tell her mom and sister about us.”
He frowns, looking puzzled. “Why tell them at all? I mean, if she’s just gonna annul this thing after the Montgomerys back down, no need to disturb the peace.”
I swallow, finding a knot of discomfort in my throat. I tug at the collar of my T-shirt, because it’s snug against my windpipe. Tate steps back, smiling at me in a way that has irritation coursing through my veins.
“Don’t,” I deadpan, and he knows exactly what I’m referring to.
“Oh my god, she actually fell in love with you, didn’t she?” He takes his hat off, making a production of fanning himself. “Lord Almighty, I don’t know how you did it, but you got that girl to fall in love with your grouchy old ass.”
I spit on the ground and adjust my belt. “We’re the same damn age, you fool.”
“I’m two days younger, lest you forget.”
I shrug. “She doesn’t like lying to the people she cares about, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I refuse to meet his eyes as I observe the rising sun and the orange-and-pink sky. Tate pokes my shoulder. “Landry.”
Finally, I caution a glance at my best friend and find all the teasing gone from his face, and I think I’d rather have him make fun of me than get serious with me. “You thinkin’ of making this thing real with her?”
Instinct tells me to answer “No” out of fear of rejection, out of wanting to deny the thing I want in case I don’t get it— that way I’ve protected myself. But instead of answering, I pause, and I truly consider his question. If there’s a person to be square with, it’s Tatum.
“No,” I finally answer. Maybe not what’s in my heart, but it’s the logical answer that takes up residency in my brain. “My goal’s the same as it always was: go to court and show the judge I’m a family man, win that damn rodeo to save my family’s house and land, then take the money from the film and rodeo to pay off the loans, fertilize the land, repair things around here, annul the marriage, and move on.” I finally face my friend. “I just need to save my place, and keep my girl. Then Quinn can… go back to California.”
