Sweet Dreams 2(13)

A smile spread on his face, a face that, at my question, grew soft and warm like earlier and since he was so close all I could do was stare.

Finally, he answered, “Yeah,” and let me go.

I grabbed my plate and beer bottle, Tate grabbed his and we took them into the house going through the backdoor into the mudroom. As we walked through the mudroom, I heard Tate’s cell phone on the kitchen counter ring.

When we hit the kitchen, I took his plate from him and walked to the sink while he walked to his phone.

I heard him answer, “Pop?”

I started to rinse the dishes.

“Yeah?” Tate asked and then there was a long silence. So long I had the plates and cutlery rinsed and in the dishwasher, I’d grabbed a knife and was cutting into the cake that was sitting on a plate on the island (homemade yellow cake, homemade chocolate butter cream frosting) when Tate spoke again. “Tell her, when I show, I don’t see that jackass.”

My eyes went from the cake to Tate. He had a hand on his hip, the other one holding his phone to his ear, his bottle of beer was on the counter and his head was bent, eyes studying his boots.

“Right… and Pop?” he said then finished with a quiet but intense. “Thanks. Owe you big.”

I stopped cutting and Tate flipped his phone closed, set it on the counter and started to me.

“Um…” I hesitated, “what was that?”

I held my breath for his response because his face was as intense as his voice had been and I didn’t get it. He also was coming to me in a way that was strangely purposeful and aggressive and I didn’t get that either. I let go of the knife still stuck in the cake and started to take a step back when he caught me and yanked me forward so hard I collided with his body.

I looked up at him as his arms wound around me. “Tate –”

“Pop ran interference with Neeta. Wood told him that I told her I was gettin’ Jonas this weekend and Pop stepped in, had a few words, calmed her ass down and I get him Friday at noon, takin’ him back Sunday by five.”

I still didn’t get why this made him look and act like he was.

“That’s… good,” I said searchingly.

“It’s fuckin’ great.” His arms around me gave me a squeeze. “Miss my kid, babe.”

Finally, I kind of got it. My body automatically melted into his and my arms went around his neck.

“Then that’s great,” I said quietly. “But, you haven’t seen him in awhile. I know that scene last night was intense but don’t you have visitation rights? Was it in question that you’d get a visit?”

“No tellin’ how they’d jack me over. Even when things are steady, I’m not on the road and need to change a visit, she fucks with me. I get him after school on my Fridays but sometimes he’s not at home when I come to pick him up. She’s made me wait an hour, two, once they dragged in at ten at night.”

“You’re joking,” I whispered, stunned at this news.

I had not come from a broken home. My parents stayed married and in love and my grandparents had stayed married and in love. Even my aunts and uncle all stayed married and in love. None of them left town so I grew up with all of them and all of my cousins and they were – we were – always together. A big family in each other’s business. Thanksgiving was a madhouse and, whoever’s house we had it in, it took hours to do the dishes because of the amount of food that needed to be cooked.

I’d always had family, a together family. I couldn’t fathom the consequences of a broken home but I really couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of using a child to screw with that child’s father.

He shook his head. “Nope. And when I gotta make a change ‘cause of work, she makes me pay. She likes her chance to fuck with me so she makes it tough, gives me shit, tells me I gotta renege and not make up a weekend.”

I remained silent and this was because I was expending a great deal of effort at keeping my body still and my mouth from screeching.

“So,” Tate continued, “goes without sayin’, us breakin’ it off permanent, me bein’ gone awhile then you bein’ here, she’s chompin’ at the bit to fuck with me.”

“Will Jonas be there on Friday?” I asked and he shrugged but grinned.

“Lucky for me, I’m a bounty hunter and I’m done with her shit. He isn’t, I’ll find him.”

“You put up with it before?” I asked and his grin turned into a smile.

“Babe, have you not got that I’ve put up with a lot of her shit before?”

“Why?” I blurted a very important question that I realized just then I’d wanted to ask for ages then I snapped my mouth shut because I didn’t want my question to come out as questioning him.