Page 60
Story: Tiny Precious Secrets
Allie: How’s it going?
That’s code for ‘have you told her yet?’
I want to lie and say it’s fine, because I’m hoping eventually it will be. And while Allie doesn’t know Bug all that well, she seems to be in tune to her even more than I am. She expected her not to take the news very well given how Bug feels about her. But I know we both hoped she’d be wrong.
Me: Well, she’s locked herself in her room if that tells you anything.
Allie: I’m sorry.
Me: It’s a lot to process. I think she’ll come around.
Allie: If it’s too much for her, maybe we should pause.
Me: We’re not pausing. You’re having my babies, Al. She’s thirteen. She’d have had a hissy fit if I told her we’re out of her favorite breakfast cereal.
Allie: I suppose. Being a teenager isn’t easy. Especially for girls. Cut her some slack. Don’t be mad at her because she’s having negative feelings about this. You’ve been her entire world for how many years? And now you’re throwing a girlfriend and two babies into the mix.
I go back to my room, open my dresser drawer, and pull out a box. Inside it is my mother’s engagement ring. She died when I was sixteen and Marti was one. When my dad died eleven years later, I knew he wanted to be buried with their wedding rings, but years earlier, he gave Mom’s engagement ring to me to give to my future wife. Why I never gave it to Stella, I’ll never understand. Because I love this fucking ring. It represents family and love and commitment. And though it’s not big and flashy and super expensive, I know it’s the perfect ring for Allie.
Me: We need to upgrade that title. You won’t be my girlfriend for long.
Allie: One thing at a time.
Me: I’m going to marry you come hell or high water.
Allie: That’s the issue. Marrying me shouldn’t be hell for anyone, Asher.
This woman. She’s carrying my babies. She loves me. But she won’t marry me without the approval of my temperamental, judgmental, pissed-off kid.
Me: It won’t be. We just need to give it time. Think I should use my key to go into her room?
Allie: Absolutely not. That’s her safe space. You’re going to have to wait it out.
Me: I’m not sure I can. I’m just sitting here thinking of how upset she is and how upsetting that is for me. How in the hell do I pass the time?
She sends me a few links in the next text. I smile for the first time in hours. They’re links to houses for sale in Calloway Creek.
Me: You’ve been looking at houses? Damn, I love you.
Allie: Call me later? After you talk with her?
Call her. Yes. I’m done with this texting crap. We’ve texted for nearly a year and a half. But now that we’re together, I want to hear her voice. Feel the emotions in her words. I want to tell her I love her, not type into a text box.
Me: Will do.
Allie: Good luck.
Me: Thanks. I think I’ll need it.
I peruse the listings she gave me, shaking my head at the modest four-bedroom houses. One of the things we’ve never really talked about is my finances. She asked about my house once, so she knows it’s not anywhere near the twelve-thousand-square-foot mansion her parents own.
While I’ll never be as well-off as her family, I can certainly afford an upgrade. I get out my laptop and do some searching of my own. Five- and six-bedroom houses with large yards for kids. I send the ones I like back to her, hoping she doesn’t take it wrong and assume I’m counting on her money to make up the difference.
Bug’s voice in my ear causes me to jump. “Looking at houses already? So this is a done deal, whether I like it or not?”
I close the lid and sit back. “Kiddo, Allieispregnant—whether you like it or not. And just like I did with you, I’m going to step up and raise them. Weren’t wejusttalking about howbeing a parent means doing what’s in your kids’ best interest? That means me being there forallof my kids.”
She’s trying to come up with an argument, but she kind of backed herself into a corner with this one.
That’s code for ‘have you told her yet?’
I want to lie and say it’s fine, because I’m hoping eventually it will be. And while Allie doesn’t know Bug all that well, she seems to be in tune to her even more than I am. She expected her not to take the news very well given how Bug feels about her. But I know we both hoped she’d be wrong.
Me: Well, she’s locked herself in her room if that tells you anything.
Allie: I’m sorry.
Me: It’s a lot to process. I think she’ll come around.
Allie: If it’s too much for her, maybe we should pause.
Me: We’re not pausing. You’re having my babies, Al. She’s thirteen. She’d have had a hissy fit if I told her we’re out of her favorite breakfast cereal.
Allie: I suppose. Being a teenager isn’t easy. Especially for girls. Cut her some slack. Don’t be mad at her because she’s having negative feelings about this. You’ve been her entire world for how many years? And now you’re throwing a girlfriend and two babies into the mix.
I go back to my room, open my dresser drawer, and pull out a box. Inside it is my mother’s engagement ring. She died when I was sixteen and Marti was one. When my dad died eleven years later, I knew he wanted to be buried with their wedding rings, but years earlier, he gave Mom’s engagement ring to me to give to my future wife. Why I never gave it to Stella, I’ll never understand. Because I love this fucking ring. It represents family and love and commitment. And though it’s not big and flashy and super expensive, I know it’s the perfect ring for Allie.
Me: We need to upgrade that title. You won’t be my girlfriend for long.
Allie: One thing at a time.
Me: I’m going to marry you come hell or high water.
Allie: That’s the issue. Marrying me shouldn’t be hell for anyone, Asher.
This woman. She’s carrying my babies. She loves me. But she won’t marry me without the approval of my temperamental, judgmental, pissed-off kid.
Me: It won’t be. We just need to give it time. Think I should use my key to go into her room?
Allie: Absolutely not. That’s her safe space. You’re going to have to wait it out.
Me: I’m not sure I can. I’m just sitting here thinking of how upset she is and how upsetting that is for me. How in the hell do I pass the time?
She sends me a few links in the next text. I smile for the first time in hours. They’re links to houses for sale in Calloway Creek.
Me: You’ve been looking at houses? Damn, I love you.
Allie: Call me later? After you talk with her?
Call her. Yes. I’m done with this texting crap. We’ve texted for nearly a year and a half. But now that we’re together, I want to hear her voice. Feel the emotions in her words. I want to tell her I love her, not type into a text box.
Me: Will do.
Allie: Good luck.
Me: Thanks. I think I’ll need it.
I peruse the listings she gave me, shaking my head at the modest four-bedroom houses. One of the things we’ve never really talked about is my finances. She asked about my house once, so she knows it’s not anywhere near the twelve-thousand-square-foot mansion her parents own.
While I’ll never be as well-off as her family, I can certainly afford an upgrade. I get out my laptop and do some searching of my own. Five- and six-bedroom houses with large yards for kids. I send the ones I like back to her, hoping she doesn’t take it wrong and assume I’m counting on her money to make up the difference.
Bug’s voice in my ear causes me to jump. “Looking at houses already? So this is a done deal, whether I like it or not?”
I close the lid and sit back. “Kiddo, Allieispregnant—whether you like it or not. And just like I did with you, I’m going to step up and raise them. Weren’t wejusttalking about howbeing a parent means doing what’s in your kids’ best interest? That means me being there forallof my kids.”
She’s trying to come up with an argument, but she kind of backed herself into a corner with this one.
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