Page 101 of Tanner

“You’re a good boy, Tanner Sexton. You’ll make a good husband someday.”

I don’t have the heart to tell my mom that I don’t know if I want to get married. She and Dad have been fighting a lot lately. She cries, too. I don’t like to see her sad.

“Why do people get married?”

“Because they’re in love and want to make a commitment to one another.”

“Is that why you and Dad got married?”

She looks at me with a smile. “Yes. Your father and I were very much in love and wanted to start a family. What’s with all the questions?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t see the point in it. I want kids because kids are hecka cool. Being married just seems so old-fashioned.”

From the curve of her brow, I can see she’s thinking of the best way to respond to my comment. “Did I ever tell you about where I grew up?”

I shake my head.

“That’s because I don’t like to talk about it, but I’ll tell you. Your grandpa was a drunk, and your grandma was a mean woman. She hit me a lot. They weren’t bad people. They just didn’t know any better because that was how they were raised. I loved them because they were mine, but I didn’t like them very much.

“When I turned eighteen, I left home without a penny to my name. I worked my way through college, and that’s where I met your father. I knew instantly that he was the man I wanted to create a family with. Now that we have you three boys, I know how blessed I am to have the family I always wanted. I got married because I wanted the family that I deserved. The one filled with love and compassion, patience and perseverance. Even the company is entwined with our legacy because, to me, that’s what I want for my family. Does that make sense?”

I nod because my mom has said this sort of thing before. Bryce, Austin, and I are the most important things to her. Everything she does is for us boys and the future she wishes for us to have. I reach over to the steering wheel and grab her right hand. My mom likes to have her hand held. She says it often. And, from the smile on her face, I know I just made her day.

I wake with a start. It’s been years since I had a dream involving my mom, but this one was so vivid. I feel euphoric, happy.

My heart is racing. That pang I felt earlier is now replaced with a thumping. I roll over and look at Harper. With my head on the pillow, I lie on my side, watching her sleep, curled up on her side, facing me. Her lips pout when she sleeps, and her long lashes flutter with her dreams.

Just one look at her, and my entire world is calm. Any stress or anxiety I feel about my day fades as soon as she’s near.

She’s more than my muse; she’s my soul mate.

I reach my hand over and lightly rub my fingers down her face. “I love you, Harper.”

Her eyes open, and her lips tug up into a sleepy smile.

“What time is it?” she asks.

I look at the clock. “Five.”

“Are you crazy? Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t. I had a dream.”

With her weight leaning on her elbows, she sits up and stifles a yawn. “Was it a nightmare?”

I shake my head. “It was a revelation.”

Her face scrunches in; she’s clearly not happy with being woken up before the sun so that I can tell her that I’ve had an epiphany in my sleep.

I take her hand and explain, “You said, ‘We don’t get to choose our family. We only get to choose who we love.’ You were wrong.”

She blinks her eyes wide. I’ve got her attention.

“You woke me up to tell me I was wrong?”

“Dead wrong. I didn’t choose to love you. This love chose me. It hit me like a ton of bricks the moment you fought me outside the subway turnstile. It seeped into my skin every second since until my entire body was consumed. It’s brilliant and scary as hell.”

Her eyes glaze over, and she reaches over to lay her hand on my cheek. I grab it and kiss her palm.