Page 57 of Midnight Surrounds Us

“Tell us about your boys,” he said after Calla had served the main course of beef roast, potatoes, and baby carrots she’d sautéed and drenched in local Wyoming honey. “They’re in college now?”

Now that we’d moved into the formal dining room, it was hard to notice anything but the impressive drapes hung almost as high as the ceiling, highlighting a massive window that faced northeast and offered a stunning view of what I thought might be Pass or Tosi Peak. Whichever mountain it was, I knew it was part of the Wind River Range, and it was gorgeous.

“Well, yes, the boys were enrolled at Montana State, but they’ve… decided to pursue other avenues.”

Rye tossed a kind smile at me across the table, because of course Calla wouldn’t let me sit next to him. “Men and women should face each other durin’ a meal,” she’d said.

“What does ‘other avenues’mean?” she pressed, and she speared a carrot with her fork so forcefully that it scraped and screeched across her plate.

I didn’t remember her to be so disapproving, but then, twenty-something years ago, she’d been a young wife and mom with three sons, a husband, and a huge ranch to tend do. She probably hadn’t had a lot of time to judge people.

Okay, well, let’s just go ahead and let Mrs. Judgy McJudgerson have her fun.

“They dropped out,” I said, and suddenly, it felt like I’d crawled out from under the guilt and nonsensical shame I’d been carrying about that particular subject. I felt like I could breathe again.

Helping Rye stand up to his parents was helping me stand up for myself too.

What did it matter if other people thought my or my boys’ decisions were wrong? They didn’t have to live our lives or pay my bills. The twins and I had gone through hell and back. All three of us were stronger for it, and we deserved to live our lives without worrying about what other people might say.

Fuck the haters. I’d played the part of the good wife for a long time. Far too long.

I wasn’t playing anymore.

If I wanted to screw Rye in plain view of everyone on Main Street, I could. Our “arrangement” had made me feel like a new woman. I felt alive again. Beautiful inside and out. There wasn’t a goddamn thing wrong with us being together, fake dating or not. What good would it do me to be awoken from a long, lifeless dream just to spend my time trying to appease other people?

Reaching over the table to serve myself an extra helping of mashed potatoes because, when you were gearing up to throw caution to the wind, potatoes were always necessary, I said, “The boys will do what they’re gonna do. I’m their mom, not their warden. I don’t always agree with their choices, but I love them. Rye didn’t go to college, and he’s smart and strong. He’s exactly the kind of man I want my boys to grow up to be. They’ve been through hell, so I’m gonna support them in whatever they do. Besides, it’s the mistakes we make in life that teach us the most, like my marriage.”

Calla gasped, Rye’s dad chuckled under his breath, and Rye grinned from ear to ear. He seemed to like this new, bolder, guilt-free Spitfire.

He had a hard time chewing with that smile plastered across his face the rest of dinner, but he managed. Calla served us her tres leches cake, which was maybe the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten, but before she could take her first bite, I stood from my chair and demanded we sing Happy Birthday to Rye. He deserved to be celebrated, and by God, Crab and Crabbier couldshow their son they loved him. It was awkward as hell, but we toasted the day this glorious cowboy was born with glasses of my sub-par wine, and then they joined me while I sang to Rye, like I was Marilyn Monroe singing to JFK, minus the overtly sexualized voice and charming vibrato.

As soon as Rye stuffed the last bite of milky cake into his mouth, along with the last stray slice of strawberry that had adorned the cake when Calla served it, he tossed his napkin onto his empty plate and stood. “C’mon, Spitfire. You haven’t been here in a stone’s age. Lemme show you around.”

“But we haven’t finished our conversation,” Calla protested.

Grady spoke up finally. “Darlin’, let the kids go have some fun. I’ll help with the dishes.”

Me, a kid? I laughed out loud. I sure felt like one tonight.

It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, like I was that wild, young girl Rye kept remembering.

“Thank you for dinner, Calla. It was lovely,” I said as Rye walked around the table. He came at me like a bull in a China shop and lifted me into his arms. My legs dangled over his forearm, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on for the ride. “You have to send me the recipe for that cake. It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Rye raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning my last statement. Oh yeah, I bet he could think ofonething I’d liked tasting better.

“Thank you, Mama. Love you both, but I want some time alone with mygirlfriend.”

He stared deep into my eyes when he said it, and nothing in the world could’ve stopped my smile.

As he dashed us out of the dining room toward the front door, I heard Calla mumble, “You’re welcome, I guess. Happy b?—”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

RYE

Hot damn!There’s the Spitfire I remember.

When we got outside, I stood in front of my childhood home, looking out at the dusty, barren landscape and the mountains in the distance, both lit up and shadowed by the moon.

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