Page 100 of Thick

It’s difficult.

Around midnight the men started leaving, each going their separate ways, but all carrying the same baggage.

Tate and I rode to his house in silence. I knew there would come a time when he was back to his former self, and I further knew it would take time.

Time was something I had a lot of.

Now that my book was a top ten bestseller in cookbooks, I had enough money to pay the bills, and a little left over. It wasn’t ranked anything like Tate’s was, but then again, Tate was special. The amount of free time I had was what I liked.

It allowed me to spend more time with Tate.

That night we didn’t make love, although we had on every other night since the first. That night, I held him against my chest while we listen to Credence Clearwater Revival’s Greatest Hits, on vinyl.

It was Stretch’s favorite, according to Tate.

While John Fogerty sang Vietnam era protest songs, I fell asleep. When I woke, Tate Reynolds was making breakfast.

Before I had a chance to convince myself to get out of bed, he brought yogurt parfaits to the bedroom.

And, for the first time in my life, I ate breakfast in bed.

There would be a lot of first times with Tate Reynolds, that much I was sure of.

I’d take the bad ones right along with the good. Because, when you’re truly in love with someone, you’re committed.

And, I was as in love as any woman could ever claim to be.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Tate

I parked my bike in the drive, walked up the walk, and knocked on the door twice. After a moment, it opened.

“Well, hell’s bells,” Bobbi’s father said, peering over my shoulder and toward the bike. “Where’s Bobbi?”

“She’s at home.”

“Come in. What brings you?”

I stepped inside. “I wanted to personally invite you to something.”

“Want a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

He took off toward the kitchen. “I’m like you. I drink that shit all day. Always have a fresh pot going.”

I followed him to the kitchen and sat down. He poured two cups, handed me one, and then sat down. “So, what’s going on?”

“After we buried our buddy, most of us got to thinking about things, me included. Some of the fellas got life insurance policies, some upped their medical insurance, and some just went home and hugged their wife and kids. Our president, Crip, went to another extreme.”

“Everything okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine. He’s been with his Ol’ Lady for some time, and a few days after Stretch’s funeral, he decided it was time to get married.”

He sipped his coffee. “So, they got hitched?”

“No, Sir. He asked for her hand in marriage.”