22. Tate

Iam freaking the fuck out. There is no point in trying to hide it. It’s barely seven in the morning but Dylan woke up earlier than normal. Mallory thinks it’s just the new environment, not more sleep regression, which is good. She offered to take him downstairs alone but I got up with her because the impending weight of what I have to do today would make more sleep impossible.

“When are you calling them?” Mallory asks me as she chops up a banana onto the tray on Dylan’s new, proper high chair.

He”s fisting the pieces and putting them in his mouth as soon as they drop. He”s also already eaten one of my protein pancakes and loved it. I watch him as I pour Mallory and me fresh cups of coffee. ”Nine our time. That”s noon in Maine and Dad usually gets home from his morning gym session by then. .”

She nods and shoots me a confident smile. “You’re doing the right thing and it will be fine.”

I nod and sip my coffee taking too big a gulp and burning my tongue. “Fuck!”

“Fuuu! Fuuu! Fuuu!” Dylan tries repeating and my eyes flare.

Mallory’s are wide too as she says, “We should start watching our language. If his first word is an F-bomb, I will die.”

“Me too,” I reply. “Tenley will laugh her as—butt off though.”

“Have you told her you’re telling them?” Mallory wants to know.

“No. She’ll want to be here, and I appreciate that but I need to do this on my own,” I inform her and then add, “With you. You’re the only one I want here.”

She nods and smiles but says nothing and keeps her eyes on Dylan. She’s been weirdly quiet since we had sex last night. I watch her now. She’s wearing a navy jumpsuit with white buttons. Her hair is down but she only finger combed it so it’s wavy and a little messy in that perfect way. She threw water on her face this morning after she brushed her teeth. I watched her from the bedroom as I changed Dylan, and she threw on some mascara and blush, I think because of the upcoming video call with my parents. Anyway, she looks beautiful, but also like a skittish kitten.

“Mallory?” She looks up. “Since I’m having big conversations today I thought I would tell you that… I don’t think this is an arrangement anymore. Or an agreement. Or anything resembling anything I’ve ever had before.”

“Oh.”

We stare at each other. Her in the dining room, by the table. Me in the kitchen, by the island. Dylan ignoring both of us and concentrating on his banana. Finally, I break the stare and look down into my coffee as I lift the other cup I filled and bring it to her. “I don’t know what to say next.”

She takes the mug from me and looks up into my eyes. Her expression is startlingly clear, glinting with gold in the morning sunlight. “Tell me what I am if I’m not like the other girls.”

It sounds so simple. So why is my heart running like it’s being chased by a serial killer? I brush my fingers over her hair. “You’re?—”

The doorbell rings.

We both startle. “Who the heck is here at this hour?”

I shrug at her question and make my way to the door. The only thing I can think is that it”s Tenley because her schedule is that of a vampire with ADHD. Or it”s Crew because he forgot something here.

Holding my coffee, dressed in nothing but sweatpants and a ratty old T-shirt, I open the door and come face-to-face with Jordan and Jessie Garrison.

“What?” I blink. “I… How?” I swallow and choke.

“Westwood said you swapped houses with his son,” Dad informs me. “Yet another red flag in a series you’ve been waving lately.”

Fuck. Of course, Crew told his parents he moved. Of course Avery Westwood mentioned it to Dad, they”re friends. How did I not see this coming? Dad gently pushes me aside and steps into the hall. Mom follows and stops to give me a hug. ”We love you, Tate Henry Garrison. You need to know that we love you.”

“Okay.”

Mallory and Dylan are out of view, the dining room table is just on the other side of the wall that separates the entrance. All my parents can see is the living room and the open bi-fold doors that lead to the backyard.

What do I do? What the fuck do I do?

Dad looks down the hall into the living room then turns back to me. “We love you. Like your mother said. Now do you mind telling us why the fuck you have a picture of a kid on your phone that isn’t you?”

“But looks exactly like you,” Mom adds, her voice shaking.

“And don’t tell us the same lies you told your Uncle Devin,” Dad warns, his blue eyes narrowed so harshly that his crow’s feet deepen like canyons on the sides of his eyes. “Your mother knows every baby picture ever taken of you and your sister, and that’s not one of them.”

“He showed you the footage?” I ask, feeling a bit bitter about a betrayal by my uncle.

“The whole world saw the footage, Tate,” Dad replies tersely. “They aired it as part of your segment after the game.”

“I told them not to!”

”There was a cell phone on the corner of the couch,” Mom interjects, her eyes also darting around the house. ”An iPhone. That kid is under a year and the iPhone came out when you were four and Tenley was three. So I”m not the only one who might figure out that isn”t you or your sister.”

Now I know where Tenley gets her investigative skills from. I could say that out loud, to lighten the mood, but I doubt it would work. So instead, I take a deep breath and try to remain calm when I say. “Come in. I have someone you have to meet.”

“Oh my God…” Mom whispers and Dad takes her hand and side-by-side they follow me into the living room.

I turn to the dining room, motioning grandly with my arm only to look over my shoulder and find it empty. The entire first floor, that I can see, appears to be empty.

She ran. I can’t help but smile at that. Mallory Echolls would do anything for me. It’s like… she loves me.

“Tate?” Dad snaps and I can tell he’s on his last ounce of patience. My father is a kind, sympathetic, and compassionate man but he has buttons like anyone else and if you push them enough… he will let you know. And you will regret it. “What the hell kind of bullshit are you pulling here? Why are you living in this big house? Why is there a fucking high chair?”

“We’re trying not to say the F word here anymore,” I warn.

“Tate!” Mom barks. If she’s mad I’m in real trouble.

“Mallory, it’s okay. Come here,” I call out. “It’s not the video call I’d planned but… maybe it’s better.”

Surely they’ll be less likely to keep getting angrier if they see Dylan in person. Or, you know, they both just have heart attacks.

“Mallory Echolls? That Mallory?” Dad asks, his tone confused, not annoyed.

The door to the powder room at the end of the small hall off the kitchen opens and she steps out. She’s holding Dylan. My parents are watching like it’s the big reveal on a suspenseful television show or something. They’re also holding hands and mom has her other hand wrapped around Dad’s bicep.

Mallory walks slowly into the kitchen with Dylan on her hip. He’s been cleaned up from breakfast and he’s blinking, looking tentatively at the new additions to the house. “Who…” Dad swallows. “Who is this?”

“Mom, Dad, this is Dylan. Your grandson.”

It was shockingly simple to say those words out loud.

Mom lets go of Dad and walks right up to Dylan and touches his cheek. ”Oh my God, you are the most perfect lil thing. I love you, baby boy,” she whispers.

Mallory looks over at me, her eyes swimming in tears. “Would you like to hold him, Mrs. Garrison?”

“If you’d let me,” Mom says in a trembling voice.

“Take him, Ma,” I encourage before Mallory can say anything.

Dad is still rooted to the floor in the living room like the soles of his shoes are made of wet cement. Mom lifts Dylan from Mallory and cradles him to her chest. He wiggles a second and then reaches for her hair and fists it, staring at the copper color like he’s mesmerized. “Bah. Boo. Da. Ba.”

I have no idea what that means but he seems to approve of her because he doesn’t cry. Their eyes lock and he grins and Mom bites her trembling bottom lip and hugs him. “Tate… you have so much explaining to do.”

Her tone is gentle. Tired, even.

I look at Dad. Holy shit… is that… a tear. His left cheek is wet. “Dad…?”

He glances over at me and then away just as quickly. He clears his throat and moves away from me, stopping behind Mom to peer at Dylan”s little face. ”Hey, kiddo. I”m your… Jesus, I”m barely fifty. I can”t say gramps.”

Mallory smiles. “Pops and Nan? That’s what I call my grandparents on my mom’s side.”

“Pops and Nan…” Dad repeats like he’s testing them out. He reaches up and runs a hand over Dylan’s head. “I’m your Pops, kiddo.”

“Dylan,” I say. “His name is Dylan.”

“Dylan,” Mom whispers. “Good name.”

“Mal calls him Dyllie Bear,” I admit and Mom looks over her shoulder at me with a grin. “I like that too.”

“Maybe you should all sit down and chat?” Mallory suggests, motioning toward the living room. “I’ll make more coffee and I think I have some Trader Joe’s croissants in the freezer I can heat up.”

“No, no,” Dad says and takes my coffee cup from my hand. “I’ll just drink his coffee. You sit down and join us, Mallory. You’re his mother and we’d like to get to know you too.”

”You”re a part of this family now too,” Mom says without a snag of hesitation in her voice. I guess a baby completely erases the fact that Mallory”s mother ”bullied the hell out of her when she was in high school” —Aunt Callie”s words.

“Oh no.” Mallory starts waving her hands in front of her. “I’m not. He’s not. I’m just the nanny.”

“She’s not just the nanny,” I blurt out. Now everyone is looking right at me, including my son. He’s literally staring at me like, okay then Daddio, let’s hear it. I look over at her, holding her pretty eyes with my own. “She’s my rock. She’s my best friend and my girlfriend. But no, Dylan isn’t hers biologically.”

“Oh.” Mom is utterly baffled.

“So the mom is…?”

“Mallory’s right,” I say gently. “We should all sit down.”

“I’ll get fresh coffee for everyone. And those croissants,” Mallory says, and I give her a smile and wink. She flashes me a brief but dazzling smile, which I take to mean announcing she’s my girlfriend was okay by her.

I follow my parents, who are still holding Dylan, into the living room, sit down on the couch across from the one they”re on, and take a deep breath.

The next two and a half hours are spent talking with my parents about everything that’s happened over the last couple of months. They both take it pretty well. There are tears about Diana dying, and anger that she was going to keep Dylan from me. But the only disappointment they have is directed at the fact I didn’t tell them immediately.

”We had to find out by watching an interview with you,” Dad grumbled. ”And then book a last-minute red-eye to force the truth out of you.”

“I was going to tell you today,” I promise, but I know the damage is done. They’re taking it personally.

I was so absorbed in myself, and trying to be the responsible adult no one thinks I am, that I completely missed that cutting them out would make them feel like they’d failed me. Like I didn’t trust them or love them enough to let them help me. I feel sick with guilt over that.

Mallory stays quiet most of the conversation, sitting in the reading chair over by the folding doors, tending to Dylan, and refilling the coffee and the croissant plate as needed. She does reassure my parents that I”m doing a great job with Dylan and that he”s a really good kid who has taken all these life changes in stride.

Mom really can’t stop staring at him. Her eyes flood with tears on occasion, without any real reason I can discern, and she wipes them away smiling. “I’m not sad,” she clarifies at one point. “I’m just so in love with him.”

“Your mother is going to visit all the time now,” Dad tells me. “I have a feeling we’re going to have to buy an apartment here for longer visits.”

“I’m going to call a real estate agent this afternoon,” Mom confirms, and I have a flash of panic. Because it’s Old Tate. The loner playboy reacting out of habit. But then I realize that dude is pretty much dead. And Dad Tate would love to have his parents hang out with his kid as much as possible.

“That would be cool,” I admit. “It takes a village after all and you guys are the best villagers ever.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got to teach him how to skate,” Dad remarks.

“I think that’s something I can manage,” I reply and he looks at me with a skeptical expression.

“You can’t even beat my record, kid,” he teases. “So let him learn from the best.”

”Dyllie Bear you are gonna need some warm clothes for all the ice rinks your pops and dada will have you on,” Mom says to Dylan, and damn if I don”t feel like blubbering watching her talk to my son. ”I promise to always have hot chocolate ready to warm you up after hockey practice.”

“Ahbkey,” Dylan says.

We all freeze. “Did he just say hockey?”

Mallory gets out of the chair and walks over, her eyes wide.

“Is that his first word?” My father wants to know.

“I mean… kind of. He says babees which I think is berries, but this was definitely more articulated,” Mallory explains and kneels down in front of Dylan.

“Hockey?” I say.

“Ahbkey!” he mimics. “Babee. Duhbber.”

”Yeah, so we might be overthinking this,” Dad grins. ”He”s just babbling.”

“He’ll get there,” Mom assures everyone.

Mallory puts a hand on my shoulder. “You have practice.”

“Right. Sh…sugar.” I stop myself from swearing and get up off the couch. I stare at my parents and then at Mallory.

“You two have a place to stay? I can drop you somewhere,” I say.

“Or you can stay in the guest room here,” Mallory suggests and it’s another panic moment. But she’s right. I should want them to stay here and bond with Dylan.

My parents look at me. “Yeah.”

“I want to be near him every waking hour,” Mom announces. “You can go on a date with Mallory. I’ll babysit.”

A date? Wow. I… Mallory looks so excited. “Yeah okay. Tonight. Let’s go out, Mal. We’ll figure out the details when I get back. I’m off to practice. And I have a meeting afterward.”

My parents barely even say goodbye. They’re still staring at Dylan. Mom is making gurgling sounds and Dad is making faces at him so he’ll smile and laugh.

I walk to the front door. Mallory shuffles along beside me. “Are you sure it’s okay I offered my room? I don’t have to spend the nights with you. There’s a couch in the office.”

“If you think I’m letting you stay on a couch,” I lean in and kiss her, “maybe you missed it but I just told my parents I have a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t miss it,” she replies. “I may be in shock, but I heard it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, I’m a little stunned myself.” I laugh. “And now we’re going on a date.”

“We don’t have?—”

I lean down and kiss her. “We’re going on a date. My parents won’t be here forever. Even if they buy a place, they’ll only be here occasionally so let’s take advantage of the built-in babysitter while we have it.”

I kiss her again and then leave. I”m still feeling a little disoriented. Like I”m in an entirely different world than the one I woke up in, but it”s not over yet. I have the team management to handle next.