One to Tell the Grandkids (26 page)

“Who’s boxing?” Dillon’s attention was grabbed by the mention of physical activity. The kid had been dying to get outside all day, but the rain hadn’t let up.

“Baby Rory,” her mother said.

“Cool. I didn’t know babies could box.” Dillon put his hand to Taryn’s stomach. His eyebrows knitted and he stuck his tongue out in concentration, trying to feel. Taryn moved his hand to where the baby shifted, and Dillon smiled brightly at her. “That’s pretty cool. Like Mommy when Bailey was still in her tummy. But Bailey doesn’t box. She can barely walk without falling on her butt.”

“Hey, don’t knock it.” Mike sat cross-legged on the floor behind Dillon. “You were a late bloomer. We were worried about you.”

Dillon looked dubious at that, and he turned his attention back to his aunt instead. “Is Baby Rory going to go to daycare with me and Bailey?”

Taryn’s throat tightened, and her heart began to pound with nerves. This was the part she hated, the part where she had to tell her family about her latest life-changing decision and had to see the disappointment on their faces. “I don’t think so, buddy,” she answered her nephew.

“Why not? It’s a great daycare, and I think they have the room,” Mike said.

“Well, the timing might be off, but here goes nothing.” Taryn sighed. She reached back and tugged on Mel’s arm. “Hey Dad, Rob, Mel? This is something you should all hear.”

“Uh-oh,” Mel said as she came around the front of the couch.

Slate took Taryn’s hand surreptitiously. His palm was sweaty. Taryn took several deep breaths before she spoke. “Obviously, the situation between Slate and me is complicated. It’s not conventional or easy, but we want to do what’s best for both of us and, more importantly, what’s best for Rory.

“So we talked about it, and we decided the best thing for our family is for me to move to LA.”

Her mother and father stared. Dillon looked apprehensive. Mel, Rob, and Mike all shouted some version of, “What?”

Her father raised his hands to stop everyone from talking at once. Mike got Dillon to his feet. “Hey, buddy. You think you can go play with your coloring books in the kitchen?”

“But—”

“Now, Dillon.”

Dillon pouted but he got to his feet. “Fine,” he said before he stormed off.

Taryn stared after him half wishing she could be excused as well.

Her father cleared his throat to get her attention. “You think this is the best thing for your daughter?”

Taryn glanced at Slate. He looked so lost and tongue-tied. She turned back to her father. “Well, what it comes down to is economics. I can do what I do anywhere.”

“But you can’t do tattoos anywhere?” Mike asked, interrupting. “There’s a tattoo shop practically on every corner.”

Slate looked down at his hands, and Taryn tried not to show her frustration. “From what I understand, an artist’s financial success depends a lot on his reputation.” She elbowed Slate with a light motion to get his attention. “Right?”

His eyes widened. He had to swallow a few times, but he found his voice. “Yeah. I got a real good thing going at the place where I’m at. They’re all people I trust, which is important. You have a bad artist, it can cast a bad light on the entire shop. We work well together because we know each other’s strengths, which means I can refer one of my potential clients to one of the others because I know they’ll send someone to me if I can do their ink better. Then I have to think about building my client base. I’m not to the point yet where anyone would follow me out here. I don’t have that kind of clout. But if I stick where I am, my client base keeps building, and I’ll be able to provide a better life for Rory quicker than if I started all over in Orange County.”

“I know we’re not together, but we want to raise the baby together. I want to live close enough that we can be together with her every day.”

“Tare, you hate LA,” Rob said.

“I don’t hate LA. I actually really enjoy LA. I hate driving there, but I can deal with that if it means my daughter has her daddy.”

“But what about a close support system?” her mother asked.

“That’s why I’m not looking for a job now. I’ll start looking when I start my maternity leave.” Taryn hesitated because she wasn’t sure it was an okay thing to ask for. This was her mess, after all. “When the baby comes, I’m going to need you. I mean, if you want to help.”

“Are you insane?” Mike asked, and Taryn sucked in a breath, ready for the inevitable dressing down. “Of course we’re going to help you. How is that even a question?”

Taryn ducked her head. “I don’t know. You don’t always agree with my choices.”

“But we’d never leave you and Rory alone, Taryn,” her father said. His expression was pinched as though her words had wounded him “What on earth would give you that idea?”

Taryn shrugged, feeling sixteen instead of twenty-six. “Isn’t there a point where I make too many mistakes and you give up on me?”

“No,” her mother and father said together.

Mel held her hands up. “Wait a second. Does that mean you think you’re making a mistake planning to move there?”

Even Slate was staring at her with hurt in his eyes. Taryn stumbled over her words. “No. No, no. I don’t think it’s a mistake to move to LA.” Her gut twisted and a visage of Caleb flashed before her eyes that she tried to shove away. This wasn’t about him. “I know you must be disappointed, that’s all. I know I’ve never done what you expected.”

“Taryn.” Her father’s voice was soft when he interrupted. His eyes flicked around the room at the others gathered. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have with everyone, but under the circumstances, it seems like it’s something that should have been said a long time ago.” He perched on the arm of the couch and took Faye’s hand. “Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

“What?” Taryn couldn’t help but scoff. “For what?”

“There’s nothing not to be proud of,” her mother said.

Raising an eyebrow, Taryn gestured at her midsection. Her eyes went wide as saucers when her mother only laughed. “Sweetheart, you and Slate are handling a potentially ugly situation beautifully. You’re taking care of yourself, your daughter. You have a good job.”

“That you hate.”

“It doesn’t matter if we don’t understand it,” her father said. “You’re happy, and you have enough to support yourself and Rory. We’re behind you, kid.”

“It’s not like you’re moving to Egypt,” Rob said. “What’s an hour of pain-in-the-ass traffic to get to you and the little bit? And you, too, cute stuff.” He winked at Slate, and everyone laughed, the tension broken. “You can’t get rid of us now. We’re one big family.”

Mel knocked her shoulder with his. “Yeah, what this guy said.”

Hope began to creep up Taryn’s spine. She raised her eyes to meet her brother’s. He looked uncertain, as though he wanted to argue, but in the end, his expression softened. “Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a decision that can’t be undone sometime down the line if it doesn’t work out, right? Why don’t you tell us the specifics?”

Before Taryn left, her parents pulled her to the side to talk alone. Déjà vu washed over her as they sat in the study. Just like when she’d been a teenager, she squirmed in her seat, waiting to see what form her parents’ disappointment would take. She’d known this was coming. They sat there with their heads bowed while she tried to find the best excuse or reason, except this time she had no earthly idea where they were going to start.

It took about ten seconds for Taryn to go out of her skin. She reasoned with herself that she was pregnant, and this was the kind of stress women in her condition were supposed to avoid. “You’re not supposed to stress a pregnant woman out. What’s this all about?”

“Bear with us, sweetheart,” her father said. “This isn’t easy to put into words.”

Taryn sat back in her chair, her arms crossed above her belly. “Okay.”

Another ten seconds passed before her mother spoke. Her voice was thick with tears that shone in her eyes. “I know we haven’t been close for a long time now.”

“Mom—”

“No, Taryn. It’s true, and it’s not your fault. We haven’t been good parents to you.”

Taryn huffed. “You had a lot on your plate.”

Faye gave her a sad smile. “People tend to excuse our shortcomings. We lost our baby. Any reaction is understandable. I think we let ourselves believe we were right to be so crippled by our grief.” She took a shaky breath as one tear then another spilled over. “It was too easy to forget we were still parents. We still had you and Mike, and you needed us. It wasn’t fair that we checked out on you.”

“Oh, hell.” Taryn wiped at her own eyes. She cried at nothing these days, and this wasn’t nothing. In her worst moments, she’d thought these words at her parents and always felt horrible for it. Selfish. Hearing them acknowledge it was a weight she hadn’t realized was there until it lifted.

“You’ve never come to us in any crisis of your life. That says a lot about how you see us. You’re going to be a mother, and I’ve hardly heard from you since you told us. You’re supposed to be asking me every question.” Her mother’s voice cracked, and she put a hand to her mouth.

Her father stepped in. “Please don’t get us wrong. It’s good you’ve built such a strong community of friends. I think that was part of our struggle when Bailey got sick. We had no peers. We were isolated. I’m glad that won’t be the case for you, but I’d like for us to be part of that. I know you and your brother haven’t felt like you could lean on us. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for that.”

Taryn’s lower lip trembled. She tried to keep a handle on her tears, but a sob escaped anyway. For a long time, her parents had been a chore. She was a daughter. It was her duty to try to make her parents proud. “This was my fault, my own problem.” She splayed her hand over her stomach. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I’m glad. I am. But it was such a stupid thing to do.”

In the next heartbeat, her parents were at her side, their arms around her. Her father squeezed her shoulders, and her mother stroked her hair. “But that’s the point,” Faye said. She cupped Taryn’s face in her hands and wiped away her tears. “This is life, sweetheart. Not a single one of us gets through it without mistakes. We’re your parents. We’re supposed to be the first people you expect to help you get back up when you fall.”

Sniffling, Taryn wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m okay. I’m okay right now. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” her father asked.

Taryn’s thoughts turned to the persistent ache in her chest, that spot on her wounded heart that belonged to Caleb, that still whispered his name with every beat despite everything else she had going on. She closed her eyes. Though some small part of her wanted to believe in her parents the way she had when she was a little girl, she knew better than to think they had the answers she needed. Besides, how could she even begin to explain how she’d gotten so wrapped up in Caleb when her every thought should have been centered on her daughter? “I’m scared. I’m afraid I won’t be enough for her, but I hear that’s pretty typical.”

Her mother laughed and sniffled herself. She kissed the top of Taryn’s forehead. “Just remember we want to be here for you. We
are
here for you.”

Taryn leaned into her mother’s embrace.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Y
ou getting the party started early, boss?”

Caleb raised his eyes to meet Oni’s. Keeping his gaze steady on her, he knocked back the last of his second drink of the day. He set the glass down on the bar with a satisfying thunk. She stared back at him with a cool look on her face. “It’s not even one in the afternoon.”

“Another, please,” was all he said, still not dropping her gaze, daring her to comment.

She lingered a beat, staring at him, before she set down her cleaning rag and turned to make his drink. “I realize a bar is an unlikely place for a baby shower, but I don’t think you’re supposed to get trashed.”

Ignoring her, Caleb downed his drink in a few gulps and set the tumbler down as he got up. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

“I’ll call you when they all get here,” she yelled after him.

“Don’t.”

With three drinks under his belt, Caleb’s mind was sufficiently numb enough around the edges. It wasn’t his intention to get trashed, as Oni had accused, but he didn’t mind the idea of not being completely mentally present. He supposed a less masochistic person would have stayed home altogether, but he told himself there was work to be done.

Since he’d moved back to LA, he’d thrown himself into work on his bar. Between his amazing team and a good location, his bar had turned a decent profit, but he’d known for years it could do much more business with a little time and attention.

He worked steadily for half an hour or so before he couldn’t block out the noise from the bar anymore. His attention was drawn to the monitors that sat off to the side, each of them displaying some other corner of the bar, the parking lot. As he already knew, Melanie and Robin were there along with a few others.