Page 72 of Mighty the Fallen
We’ve been looking forward to this family trip to Montana to see Jamie and his husband, but it would be better if mine didn’t have to fly off somewhere else the day after we return. My rendition of The Hoppy Song doesn’t go over like his does, and, well, I’m greedy and like having him here.
“Yeah.”
I manage a smile. I’m too proud of the work he does and the sense of worth it’s given him to make him suffer a guilt trip just because I miss him when he has to do one of these engagements. His safety briefing at Cameron U years ago led to more at other local colleges, where several people asked if he had a book. It took me giving him a few boosts of confidence that what he had to say was important, but the end result was one of the most touching, inspiring stories I’d ever read, even if I knew most of it already. Who knew a self-proclaimed ‘grumpy asshole’ would be invited to give motivational talks around the country several times a year?
Patting his chest, I step away to stow the last of Delia’s chaos. “I saved you a plate. It’s on the table. You might have to pop it in the microwave, though.”
Something tugs at the belt loops on the back of my jeans. “Come to bed, Papa,” he rumbles at the back of my ear. “I’ll eat later.”
That sounds like a much more enticing idea than cleaning up princess time. Arching a brow, I reach back and run my hand down his side. “Oh? And do what?”
“That thing we used to do a lot that we’re still really good at when we find the time.”
I toss the plastic crown in my hand into the air, not caring where it lands, and start toward the bedroom. “Okay.”
His chuckle follows close behind me. When we pass by his desk, Snowflake hops into his hamster wheel in his cage on the stand next to it and starts running. Three-year-old girls name everything snowflake.
“Ugh,” Chris grunts. “That thing stinks.”
“Youtell her you want to get rid of it then.”
His hand swats my ass. “Why are you so mean, Tanner?”
“Because my husband is an antagonizer,Mr. Tanner.”
My comeback loses all its clout when something sharp stabs the sole of my stocking clad foot and I stumble.
“Ah, shit! What was that?”
Hopping, I catch sight of one of Delia’s wooden blocks skating across the floor before it comes to a stop. Chris bends to retrieve it and presents one of its sides to me. “The letterR,” he grimaces sheepishly, stepping close to wrap an arm around my waist. “I’ll have it stricken from the alphabet.” Rubbing my back, he urges me forward. “Come on, I’ll kiss it better.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe I should smack myself with it in a few other places then.”
His stubble brushes against my neck where his lips press a kiss. “Not necessary.”
The feeling of completion that surrounds me brings me back fully to the baffling joy that is my life. Sometimes we bicker. Sometimes we fall asleep without even saying goodnight, but then I remember that neither of us is perfect. And neither is life. Perfect doesn’t exist. Happiness, on the other hand… It might look a little messy at times, but you can’t beat the sight of it with the right person in your life, no matter how long or how many chances it took you to get there.
One of my exes once told me I could be too much in social settings, the way I ramble when I’m excited or nervous. Chris used to think he wasn’t enough, and sometimes still does. Maybe that’s what makes us work. Together, we’re enough to overcome the lack of faith we have in ourselves. I just know when I look at him why they say love conquers all.
