Page 98 of Long Time Coming

He nods, appearing to analyze how much longer we’ll be waiting by counting the people ahead of us. “Are we interested in the rodeo?” He squats to talk to Beck directly. “Painting the house kept us busy, so you didn’t get a chance to see the sheep over at Miss Christine’s. How are you feeling about the Mutton Bustin’?”

Shaking his head is enough for his dad to respect his decision. Tagger says, “It’s okay. There’s always next year.”

As cute as it would have been to see, Beckett isn’t living this life every day. It’s still a vacation to him. I appreciate Tagger not pressuring him to do something he knows nothing about.

I rub Tagger’s shoulder when the line moves up. “The barrel racing and bucking broncos is tomorrow night. We could take off after the Ferris wheel if you think he’s ready to leave.”

We shift up to the front of the line. I think Beck is hitting a wall after two hours of being here in the heat, eating a hot dog, downing a blue raspberry slushie, devouring cotton candy, and riding four vomit-inducing rides.The joys of being a kid.

I’m certain Anna would be losing her mind if she saw her kid right now. I’m not sure if we need to get him in the shower or toss him in the river to clean up. One thing I know is that his sticky hand was enough for me to wish I brought hand sanitizer.

We finally get in a cart, but as soon as the door is closed, Beck says, “I feel sick.”

“Stop the ride,” Lauralee yells from beside him, then waves her arm out the open air above the door.

I move over to scrunch in next to them and rub his back. “It’s okay. Try breathing in through your nose and blowing out through your mouth.”

Tagger pulled the truck over three times on the way back to his parents’ house. Beck fell asleep fifteen minutes ago, so it’s a bummer to wake him up so soon. We barely beat the sun setting, so I get a view of the freshly painted house when we pull out front. When Tagger cuts the engine, I look out the window. “The house looks great.”

I get out quietly, wondering if we can get him cleaned up and to bed without upsetting him too much.

Tagger comes around and gives me a peck on the lips. “Thanks. I’m popping ibuprofen like candy.”

“Welcome to the club. That’s what I do after I spend the night with you.”

I don’t get any sympathy, but I do see a full-on smirk like he just won best in show. He shows up ready to perform alright. Every time.

Mary and Justin come out. She has her hands clasped in front of her chest. “Upset tummy?”

“Yeah.” I move so that Tagger can get him out of the truck.

She slips her arm around my back and gives me a quick hug. “Chicken broth might help. It always did with my boys.”

Tagger situates him on his shoulder. “If he’s up and wants some, we can do that. He might just want to sleep, though.” They walk to the house, and I’m left standing there not sure what to do.

They know we’re dating, but I’m not Beck’s mom, so I’m not sure I have a place where he’s concerned.

The four of them reach the porch. As his parents shuffle inside and hold the door open, Tagger turns back. Our gazes connect, and he says, “Join us.”

Closing the truck door, I go not only because he wants me there but also because it feels wrong not to be with them, not to be by Beck’s side while he’s not feeling well. I hurry in behind them before the screen door closes.

The shower is running, letting me know Tagger chose option one when it comes to cleaning up the sticky mess that is his son. Beck comes out ten minutes later dressed for bed in his cotton pj’s with little hats, books, and lassos on them. The cutest.

Beck pads barefoot through the living room and straight to me, climbing up on my lap like he intends to camp out here for a while. I don’t mind.I adore it.Sitting back, he rests against me as an animated show with talking squirrels plays on TV.

Slowly rubbing the side of his head, I can feel his body trying to give in to sleep. I’ve never held a kid like this. I’ve had friends who have babies and held them but not little munchkins like Beckett.

It doesn’t feel as foreign as I would have thought. I relax along with Beck, but over his head I catch Tagger’s eyes, feeling a soft smile forming as if my heart has taken charge.

While Mary and Justin fuss in the kitchen, Tagger sits in a chair next to his dad’s recliner. He swipes two hands through his hair, looking exhausted. Selfishly, I hope he gets a second wind. If he doesn’t, that’s okay, too. Even though this week is slipping away from us, we always have tomorrow.

It’s that look in his eyes, the one of awe and adoration that makes the butterflies come to life in my tummy, that just about does me in. The gentle smile, the mussed-up hair, and the peace he carries in his shoulders could send me to an early grave if I’m not careful.

Can life be more perfect than this right here?

Mary comes in with a mug of broth that Beck happily sips on, which pleases her and all of us. It’s good to help counteract all the junk he apparently doesn’t get back in the city. I almost feel guilty for not trying to find a vegetable to sneak in there. And we never even made it to the Peach Fest tent to try all the yummies in there.

After drinking half the broth, Beck finds sleep by the third commercial break. Tagger comes over and lifts him from my arms to carry him into the bedroom. No one bothers to change the station, which makes me think his parents want to chat.

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