35. Tilly

Chapter thirty-five

Tilly

T he trip back to San Diego took fourteen hours. Why fourteen? Because we had to stop every two hours for Sam to nurse TJ and let him out of his car seat. How they made it to Henrietta's house in eight hours will forever be a mystery because the little man certainly didn't cooperate.

As Henrietta parks in the driveway of Miranda's rented home, I let out a sigh. I have no idea what happened to my apartment. Really, I don't care, but it's another in a long line of questions I have about things since I left for Kansas.

"I'll get the bags," Tommy says with a yawn.

I nod and open the door. Miranda is already at the front, unlocking it on a dial pad. The house itself is pretty nice. It's a far cry from what I left behind. But with the added square footage, it's farther from the beach. Still, as soon as a breeze kicks up, I can smell it. The ocean. Salty and crisp, it wraps around me. All previous nausea and worry from the car ride are immediately gone. Replaced by a nostalgia that overwhelms me. Tears spring to my eyes, and I turn around.

Tommy's rolling our suitcases up the driveway, and his brows lower when he takes in my crying. "You okay?"

I rush forward and throw my arms around his neck. "I can smell it," I say.

He puts a hand on my back and chuckles. "Sorry, I thought it was safe to walk over here. Are you going to throw up?" I pull back, confusion on my face. Oh.

I laugh and smack his chest. "Not your burrito gas. The ocean!"

He chuckles with me and turns around. He keeps an arm around my waist and breathes in deeply. "Did you miss it?"

My crying restarts, but I don't answer. I can't admit out loud how much I missed the beach. The sand, the sun, the waves, my board. Yes. Yes. Yes. All of it. He kisses my temple. "Then we must surf tomorrow." I pull back again and search his face. Is he serious? "What? I googled it in the car. Totally cool to surf while pregnant."

My cheeks raise into a wide grin. "No way, you serious?"

"Yep. Maybe you should switch to a foamie for a while, but yeah, there's a pro surfer that has a bunch of videos on it. Said it's the cure for morning sickness too. And Sam surfed while pregnant. All the way up until she had like a week left. Greg had to push her into the waves when she got too big to lay on her stomach."

I'm literally vibrating with excitement now. I clap my hands together. "First thing tomorrow?"

He tugs me toward the house. "Absolutely. But only if we get some sleep." With a final look over my shoulder to the west, I let him lead me inside.

***

The next morning, I'm up with the sun. Tommy is still asleep in the small full-size bed. It wasn't easy to get us both comfortable, but I wasn't about to argue with Miranda for the master in the middle of the night. Without a word, I kiss Tommy's cheek and slowly get out of bed.

No one else is awake, and I'm not surprised. We arrived around midnight, and everyone was exhausted. Sam and Greg drove home while Tommy's mom, Miranda, Tommy, and I are all staying at this three-bedroom rental. It's maybe 1600 square feet and very modest. Formica kitchen counters, one and a half bathrooms, and rooms that are probably the size of Henrietta's closets. But it'll do for the next few weeks while we figure out what we're doing about my aunt.

But I'm not thinking about all that. No. I'm thinking about what Tommy said. Pregnant ladies are allowed to surf. I look down at my baby bump. It's at the point where I swear it gets bigger every day. But I know Sam will have a wetsuit I can wear. Ron should already be at the surf shack. He likes to grab a dawn patrol session before he opens the shack at nine.

With that in mind, I grab my purse and Henrietta's keys. As quietly as possible, I leave the house. I'll probably be back before they wake up anyway. Out of all of them, I slept the most on the ride here. I should probably wait for Tommy to wake up, but honestly, I need to do this alone. Ever since Tommy found me at the dive bar in Kansas, he's been a little…clingy.

At the shack, I arrive just as Ron is pulling up. When I see him, my heart soars. I missed that raggedy old surf bum.

"Ron!" I yell out, and he spins around.

"Til?" he asks. I nod and rush over where I throw my arms around him. He rocks us side to side. "Fuck, Tilly. Where the hell have you been? I asked Sam, and she was all—" he motions like he's locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Oh, just some family. Dad died, you know how it is," I say with a wave of my hand.

"Oh shit, you okay?"

"Never better. Actually…" I let the word trail off and pull my pajama shirt tight against my stomach so my bump is visible. "Got knocked up."

He releases me and puts a hand on his forehead. "Lord, Tilly. I knew those dates would catch up with you. Jesus."

Instead of being offended like I probably should, I laugh. "It's not like that. Tommy's the dad."

Now he really looks confused. After a long spell, he shakes his head. "I can't keep up with you kids. So, are you here to work then?"

I shake my head. "Actually, I was hoping to rent a board and wetsuit."

He jerks his head. "Then step into my office," he says with all the charm he has.

***

Twenty minutes later, we're both in the water. I haven't stopped crying since the first bit of sand squished between my toes. It's a silent sob of relief. To his credit, Ron hasn't spoken. He seems to understand that I'm having a moment. The ocean is my happy place. It's buried in my soul as somewhere I am safe, understood, and comfortable. All things I haven't felt in so long. Having Tommy hold me is about the only thing that can compare. But even then, I see the worry in his eyes. It's half the reason I wanted to come out here without him. But the ocean? There's no worry or concern. Just peace.

I haven't even tried to catch any waves yet. After paddling through the small break, foam in my braided hair, I sat up on the giant board and looked out to the open ocean. The pink of sunrise is now a brilliant orange, painting the sky with rays of beauty I had forgotten existed. But it's the smell that is rejuvenating me. Salt, carried on the mist, coats my face and hair. The solitude, interrupted by only a few other surfers and some loud seagulls, is all-encompassing.

And I'm ready. A four-foot wave is coming, the perfect reintroduction to surfing. I lean back on my board, and my feet churn beneath me. I use my right arm to pull until I'm facing the beach. My stomach doesn't feel much different, maybe a little bloated, but it doesn't hurt, so I start to paddle.

Lord, it's been a while. I'm barely five feet away when my muscles start to protest. But I keep it up until I feel the tail of my surfboard lift. I give one final two-handed paddle before jumping to my feet. Like riding a bike. Nothing's changed. I'm gliding down the face of the small wave, feeling like I'm on top of the world. It's a short forty-second ride, but it's everything I needed. I let my entire body fall back into the white wash.

As the water finally eclipses my head, I have one thought: It's fucking cold but in the best way. Fuck snow. This is the kind of freezing I embrace. I stay under for longer than normal, and when I finally stand, Ron is by my side.

He's got a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Feel good?"

I smooth some of the escaped wet hair back and nod. "Like a fucking queen."

"Right on. Let's get some big ones then." He's already paddling back out, and I hop on my board. This. This is where I belong.

In the water, we sit side by side, each of us silent in our own reverence of the ocean. Occasionally, I'll comment on the size of a passing wave or the shape of a cloud. Ron mumbles out replies, but his focus is on the water. I catch a few more easy lefts with him cheering me on. It's perfect.

Mission beach has the perfect beginner waves, but that also means there's a lot of people that are all trying for the same thing. Right around nine o'clock, the pancake dads show up. You know the ones that have to get their kids breakfast and to school before they can come out. Shit. Tommy's going to be a pancake dad! Oh, I can't wait to tell him that. He hates those guys crowding his break. They aren't as bad as kooks, people with no business being outside the white water, but they have a sort of desperation to them. Like if they don't catch the next one, they'll die or something. Guess I'll be a pancake mom too.

Ron and I call it quits when he gets dropped in on by a wobbly guy on a Costco board. Figures. Fucking snake. We ride a final wave in on our stomachs and start the short walk back to the shop.

But when we get there, a police car with its lights on is in the parking lot. "Shit," I say.

Ron looks at me. "Think there was a break in?" he asks. But I know it has nothing to do with stolen goods. There's a high probability that someone noticed I was gone and maybe panicked.

"Uh, might be my baby daddy. I might not have mentioned I was surfing this morning," I say somewhat sheepishly. The shack looks as good as ever. No shattered front window, and the door is still intact. Though if I'm being honest, that might help with curb appeal.

Sanderson Surf is a little beat-up store that needs a coat of paint and maybe a scrub brush on the front window. I almost laugh at the thought. Months ago, when I left, I would never have given the appearance a second thought. But being a maid for a few months really taught me the value of keeping things looking their best. Though my mind is on the bored-looking officer, I do make a mental note to put some elbow grease into the shop in the near future.

Ron purses his lips. "Tilly, come on." He sounds as exasperated as I already feel. We both hustle over the warming pavement to where the cop is standing near the front door.

"Ronald Swensen?" The cop asks, eyeing us both carefully.

"Yes, can I help you?" Instead of answering, the officer looks at me. "Any chance you're Tilly Jacobs?"

I nod. "Tommy call you?"

With a loud sigh, he looks down at his notebook. "Mr. Thomas Hillcrest, yes. Said your life was recently threatened and you're at a medical risk."

I set my surfboard next to the door of the shack and cross my arms. Medical risk my ass. "I'm pregnant, not infirm."

The officer doesn't respond to me, only talks over his radio for a few seconds. When things are settled, he lets out a breath. "Call your man, lady."

With that, he walks away. Setting his board next to mine, Ron unlocks the door. I flick on the lights and bring both boards inside. It's something I've done hundreds of times after a session and feels right. Since I don't have my burner phone, I decide to call him using the surf shack's line. He doesn't answer, so I leave a quick message to let him know where I am. Afterward, I get to work on helping Ron set up for the day. I'm barely through rinsing them down when I hear the bell over the door. "Where is she?" Tommy asks, his voice full of rage.

"Hey man, she just wanted to surf."

I step away from the boards and steel myself for what seems to be an impending argument. "I'm back here," I say.

I hear his flip-flops slap against the ground and almost laugh. If he's trying to be threatening, he'll maybe need to get a pair of boots.

But when I see his face, my amusement fades. His face is dark red, hair sticking up every which way. If I'm not mistaken, he's been crying too, judging by the puffiness of his eyes. "What the hell were you thinking, Til?"

"That I wanted a break," I say, my arms crossing. He doesn't look impressed with my answer. I knew he wouldn't. It might be asking too much for him to understand, but I needed this. It wasn't just my unwanted sabbatical from surfing; it was about a freedom I haven't had. Controlling where I am is one thing, but I've been denying this huge part of myself for months. It might not be my identity, but it is as much a piece of me as my arms and legs.

His head jerks back, his face paling. "From me?"

I scoff. "Seriously? No, Tommy, not from you. From everything else."

He puts a hand on his forehead. "Jesus, Tilly. Don't scare me like this!"

"You said last night I could go surfing first thing in the morning," I say defensively.

"With me!" He waves his arms around. "You can't just leave like that, Tilly. I thought…fuck!" His hand slaps down. "I thought they found you already. That they took you and little man!"

Oops. Yeah, that shuts me up. There's no more defense to that. I see the panic in his eyes, the fear. He was terrified that something happened to me and our baby.

"I didn't th-think about that."

"Well, I sure as shit did! We've got half the fucking city looking for you! You can't be alone out here. What if they did show up? What the hell would you do?"

As he's yelling, I hear the bell ding again. Another set of stomping sandals comes down the hall. Sam is a mess too, with Greg trailing behind her wearing a baby sling with TJ inside. "What the hell were you thinking? Surfing alone, Tilly? Really?"

I don't have an excuse. "Ron was—"

"Ron doesn't know his head from his asshole!" Sam yells.

"Hey!" I hear Ron counter from the front. Sam ignores him.

"You… I—" Sam can't seem to get another sentence out, but her face is scrunching up like she's holding in gas. Oh shit, that's her about to cry look.

Greg puts a hand on her shoulder and clears his throat. "I think what my beautiful wife is trying to say is that we were all very worried about you. You can't leave without telling someone where you're going. Better yet, take one of us with you."

Sam is nodding. Oddly enough, Tommy has calmed down while someone else let me have it. He takes a breath and holds his hands up. "You're here, and you're fine. We should all just chill."

Sam's hand flies out. "No! She can't disappear like that. We just got her back, Tommy." Sam's crying now, and my stomach sinks. I really put them all through the wringer with my little surf session. Without any further argument, I walk up to my best friend and wrap her in a hug.

"I'm sorry, Sammy girl," I say with as much emotion as I can muster. With a sigh, she melts into my embrace.

"I don't want to live without you, Tilly."

"I know, babe. I don't want to live without you either." We're both freely crying now as our men watch uncomfortably behind us.

"God, they're fucked up," Greg says.

"Totally codependent," Tommy adds.

"Oh, blow it out your ass. I love her more than either of you," I say. TJ starts fussing, and I walk over to him. Grabbing his little hand, I wiggle it a bit. "But not you, Teej. You're my first true love."

That makes everyone chuckle a bit as TJ coos back at me. "So, burgers?" I ask.

Tommy is still eyeing me like I might disappear into thin air, so I walk to his side. His arms are around me as he inhales my scent. It's nice to hold him after our little spat. The way he was glaring at me, I truly thought I might be a single mom for a second. "Babe, I'll get you whatever you want if you promise not to ever do that to me again."

"I won't, I swear." He lets go and offers me a sad smile. I point at his chest and narrow my eyes. "But I was serious about a burger."

With a grin, he nods. "Might take a while to find some at 9:30, but I'll do my best."

"In-N-Out?" I ask hopefully, and he winks at me.

"I'll break in if I have to."

"With avocado!" I say with gusto. It wasn't a food I ever really enjoyed before, but right now? God, avocado sounds good. I need some of the green mushy deliciousness.

But his face falls. "They don't have that at In-N-Out." Without trying, my lip starts to quiver. I just wanted a morning burger with avocado, is that too much to ask? "Oh shit, babe. Don't cry. I'll go to the grocery store and find some. By then, In-N-Out will be open. Okay? Will that make you happy?" He's panicking again, because of me again. Fuck, I suck at this.

I force a smile. "If it's not too much trouble," I say with a wince.

I can hear giggling behind me and snap around. "What?"

"Just nice that someone else is dealing with this shit for once," Greg says, his face beaming.

"Oh, fuck off. I'm doing my best here," I say. But that only makes him laugh harder.

Sam is shaking her head, trying to contain her own laughter. "Honestly, Til, don't feel bad. Pregnancy is fucking weird."

Whether I agree with her or not on anything else, I can certainly agree with her on that.