Page 43 of Beckon

He must’ve spoken louder than he intended. Hell, he hadn’t intended to speak about it at all until later. He had it all planned and now, he’d just announced it at her mother’s wedding.

Well, one thing was for sure, mission accomplished on making sure she wasn’t thinking about her last trip down the aisle. Just note the way he thought he’d make her forget.

It hadn’t escaped him that she didn’t say it back, but how could she? By the time she’d recovered, they were up next to Harold, and she broke off to stand opposite of him.

It was more comfortable for him to focus down the aisle rather than look at Tami. He still felt her eyes on him. Harold leaned in. “You just had to upstage me there, huh, boy?” He clapped him on the back with a booming laugh. “Well, no worry, my Constance is going to upstage us all.”

And she did.

Chester led her down the aisle and a hush fell over those gathered. Chandler chanced a glance at Tami, who was now looking at her mother, to his relief, and Harold’s jaw was dropped.

Chandler was in his own world during the entirety of the ceremony. The only thing he clearly remembered was when the officiant asked who gives this woman away, Chester shouted to the rooftops, “I do, but you have to share her, Gumpy.” The roar of laughter that followed was where things blurred.

The ceremony was over, the food was served, but Chandler found himself at a loss for words. Tami still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room, but he didn’t expect her to, not there at the reception.

Chester and Tami were dancing for what seemed like the tenth time when Chandler pulled his head out of his ass.

“Hey, Buddy, can I cut in?”

“Finally.” Chester rolled his eyes. He trotted off to his aunt Grace, who was Harold’s daughter and had her remove his tie.

Tami dropped her gaze once her son was safely with family, and brushed a lock of russet hair behind her ear that had escaped her updo.

“Hey,” Chandler whispered as he took her into his arms.

“Hey yourself,” Tami responded as she tucked her head under his chin. They swayed to the music in silence for the rest of the song.

They continued to dance as the DJ slipped seamlessly into another song. “I’d love to hear about number four.”

Chandler was obsessed with her tales of overcoming her depression. He was siphoning inspiration off her past successes. Plus, he just loved to hear her talk. Especially when it was something she felt strongly about.

Every little thing about her changed in those moments. She came alive more so than was her baseline, which was pretty intoxicating already.

He looked forward to hearing them all but at the same time, he was going to miss her retellings and the way it made him feel to know that she had gutted through so much to come out the other side the person he’d fallen in love with.

“Four? Four was wine and chocolate.”

Chandler leaned her away a bit to look into her eyes. He hoped his amusement showed through his shock. All her other stories were little things. Wine and chocolate, just the way she said it, sounded huge.

“Don’t look at me like that, mister. I told you I drank a bit to cope. It can’t be that shocking. Jeez.” She leaned back into him with a contented sigh.

“Continue, please. I’ll keep my reactions to myself.”

“You better.” She squeezed him tight. “Anyway, it was, you know, that time of the month and I was a monster. Trust me, you’ve been lucky so far, I can be a real terror.”

Chandler couldn’t believe that. Tami would apologize profusely if she bumped someone on the sidewalk. Then worry about them for hours. There was no way she could—his thoughts were cut off as she continued.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t always like that but after trying for so long to have children, I got to where that time of the month triggered something emotional in me. Even though he was gone and there was no way, I still got stuck with those feelings every month, does that make sense?”

It made perfect sense to him. Once you attach an emotion to something, it doesn’t matter if it’s warranted, it’s still there. He knew that more so than most. It was something he’d learned in therapy. Even though his brain knew he wasn’t to blame, he’d spent so much time with guilt attached to the memory that it lingered. He had to consciously fight to detach it. Easier said than done.

“Yeah, Bandit. I totally understand that.” He kissed the top of her head and then it hit him.

She saidhe, not Reese. Most times she spoke ofhim, she used his name, but not that time. Now it was his turn to squeeze her a little tighter.

“So, I turn to red wine and chocolate. The chocolate peanut butter cups and a good red blend. That’s my jam. Anyway, I went to the pharmacy, grabbed those and a box of supplies, and my bank card kept triggering an error every time I swiped. I had nothing else with me. I was in ratty sweats and a holey tee shirt. I grabbed my keys and card and that’s it. The lady behind me handed the cashier a box of cinnamon candies and her card. She told her she would pay for my stuff, and she told me to try the candies on top of the cup. That was her go-to.”

Chandler listened to her continue spouting the wisdom of cinnamon candies and chocolate, and he was struck again with how fucking lucky he was. Someone with his black soul managed to find someone with such a white one.

---