Page 102 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
“What about you?” I ask.
“I thought he was happy.” He pauses momentarily like he’s trying to think of the right words to say. “He’s excited to be a dad. And I know he was happy in the beginning. He was excited. He liked Taylor. Based on just that, I would have chalked all of this wedding nonsense going on right now up to just that. Nonsense, right? Stress from the planning and quarantining, etc.”
“And?” I prompt.
“But I had no idea what happiness meant until those three days in Vegas with you. After that, I can see he’s not happy at all. He’s just going through the motions with a smile on his face. And I think how Taylor is acting now might be his deciding factor. I hope it is. I think marrying her would be the biggest mistake of his life. And I don’t think I can stand next to him while he makes it.”
wyatt
I didn’t meantto say all of that earlier—about extremes, happiness, Vegas, and Blake—but I don’t regret it now that I have. There’s a part of me that wanted to jump for motherfucking joy when Nelson said Bristol and I are still married. Highs like that tend to be tempered when you’re feeling it in a jail cell.
Brie fell asleep about thirty minutes ago, and so did my arm about ten minutes later. But I don’t want to move for fear of waking her up. Having her in my arms like this, even under these circumstances, is like a cold beer on a hot afternoon. It just hits the spot, and right there, at that moment, you can’t imagine anything better.
I think back to my conversation with Blake when he said, ‘It’s not like you were in love with her or anything. You said so yourself. So, what’s the big deal?’
And then I think about how my heart wants to burst out of my chest when she looks at me and smiles. And how she brings out all my extremes. Brie takes my shit, and she gives as good as she gets.
My parents have been married for thirty-six years, and my dad still grabs my mom’s ass every chance he gets. They make out like teenagers. Hell they had seven kids, and they still love hard and laugh harder. It’s not all sunshine all the time; they fight, but it’s like Blake said before, it’s how they make up that matters.
Do Brie and I fight, then makeup?
Or do we just fight?
“Wyatt Reed? Bristol Reed?” Hamilton calls out. “You’re free to go.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you guys were stealing apples for me,” Blake says, sounding sympathetic. “That’s really…stupid.”
“We do what we can,” I raise my drink in his direction. We’re in the same bar as earlier this afternoon, sitting at almost the same table and drinking identical libations.
“I don’t think we’re going to need them,” Blake says.
“Why? Brie asks. “Did Taylor change her mind about the votives?”
“Taylor didn’t have to. I changed my mind about everything.” Blake takes a long drink of his whiskey like he hasn’t just dropped a bomb on us.
“What do you mean?” Brie asks.
Blake sets his glass on the table with a thud. “I called the doctor this afternoon.”
“Oh god, is it the baby?” Brie covers her mouth with her hand.
Blake scoffs. “There is no baby.”
“What?” I ask at the same time Brie asks, “What do you mean?”
“No baby. No wedding.”
I raise my hand to the bartender. “Can we get another round here, please?”
“When I called the doctor and asked him about the test results, he said they weren’t waiting on any tests for a baby. I asked him if she was pregnant, and he gave me some bullshit about HIPPA violation and told me to ask Taylor.”
“What did Taylor say?” I ask.
Blake holds up his hand. “I called back and talked to the scheduling desk, told them I needed to confirm my wife’s upcoming prenatal appointments. None. I asked about the past appointment, where she first found out she was pregnant. None.”
He takes a long sip of his drink.
