Page 49 of Meant to be Falling
But it had only taken a few years before the shaky foundation of our marriage had started to crumble. I snort out a laughbecause him cheating on me had ultimately been the best thing to ever happen to me.
Doesn’t make him any less of a dick, but still.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I brace myself for what feels like the inevitable. But it’s not Jacob, and that alone has a smile splitting my cheeks.
MASON: I cannot wait to see you.
LANA: Jacob canceled
MASON: Hey that’s all right – have you been to the Brew, Q, ’n Boogie?
LANA: I have no idea what that is
MASON: They play live music, there’s vendors and food trucks—I think the kids will like it
I stareat the screen as my eyes fill with tears because I know he’s not just offering to make me feel better. He’s offering because he thinks the kids and I will genuinely enjoy it.
“Mama, are you crying?” Holland says as she comes into the kitchen with a frown.
I open my mouth to answer when Beck comes lumbering in, looking intentionally disheveled as he grabs a bowl from the cabinet.
“What? No, just something in my eye,” I say, making my expression a little more neutral. “Your father had something come up. He’s really sorry he won’t be able to take you guys this weekend.”
Holland’s frown deepens, but Beck mutters something likesure he isunder his breath.
“Mason asked if we wanted to go to something called the Brew, Q, ’n Boogie. I guess there’s food and music. What do you think?”
Beck shrugs amicably. “Whatever.”
One down.
“Can I wear my cowboy boots?” Holland asks and I nod.
“I think that would be perfect.”
“Okay,” she says, her expression a little softer, and my heart that had been soaring is now breaking for my little girl who just wants her father to show up and love her.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that murder is still illegal even if it’s for areallygood reason.
“Why don’t we try one of those hairstyles you were telling me about?” I say casually, earning a small smile from Beck that he tries to hide behind his spoon.
Holland nods and zips up her backpack as Beck puts his bowl in the dishwasher.
“Hey guys?” They both turn and look at me as I take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry this is hard, but I love you and being here and this house. I’m excited for the memories we’ll have, and I’m sorry your father and I couldn’t make it work because I know that even though it was a good choice for me, it’s so hard for you guys. But I just want you to know I’m doing everything I can to make this amazing.”
Holland is the first one to react, running across the kitchen and barreling into me, her arms tight around my waist as I hug her back. My eyes meet Beck’s as he rolls them and smirks, but I didn’t miss the glassiness—the acknowledgment that thisishard butwe’re doing it.
Walking with far less enthusiasm, he wraps his sister and me in a bear hug, my little boy getting so much closer to being a man every day.
“I love you both so much,” I whisper through the emotion clogging my throat.
“I love you, Mommy,” Holland says, burying her face in my shirt.
I poke Beck in the ribs and he chuckles. “I love you too, Ma.”
“All right, you two, let’s get you to school, and how about we order pizza for dinner? I think we deserve it.”
The kids cheer as we make our way out to the bus stop, arguing about which toppings we should get when we’ll probably end up with just cheese or pepperoni.
