Page 20 of Savannah Sweethearts

My brother’s tone turned serious. “He has kids?”

I have never prayed so hard for my brother to be on my side for a change. I needed him to be okay with this. “Yes. Twin girls, four years old. Never married to the mother—and they’ve worked everything out without the courts so far—but this woman is legit nuts.”

Instead of a harsh reaction, Tanner’s voice softened. “Are you prepared for this? Not just what will come from Mom and Dad but having a boyfriend with kids? Especially with what you’ve been through in the last few years.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I took a deep breath. “I think so. I hope so. You know how heartbroken I was. What if he’s my forever? And he already has children, so it’s a built-in family.”

Then he asked a question that was like a punch to the gut. “Do you want Tyrell, or do you want a ready-made family, Ash?”

All my breath left me, and I blinked rapidly as I grasped for words—not because I was upset with his question but because I wondered if he was right. I had always loved Tyrell, but did the fact that he now came with children make me want him more?

“I’m sorry, Ashley. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Listen, I will text you a few people’s numbers.” A door closed, and I heard Morgan’s shrill voice behind him.

Choking back tears and a harsh retort, I cleared my throat. “It’s okay. I can’t say you’re wrong. I’m not sure you’re right, but I can’t say you’re wrong.” I sighed. “Thank you, big brother. Kiss Jonny for me.” We hung up, and I put the car in reverse.

At church, I sat beside Carly Rivers as I usually did. And she sat beside Alyssa and Riley Norman. We were the unmarried spinsters of the church. Not that they called us that, of course. We were the single women over the age of twenty-five. I always felt like there was a blinking light over our area that announced us as unmarried women ripe for the choosing. Maybe overripe. We had a singles’ group for a while; but then the two single men married the other two single women, and that left the four of us.

While the pastor preached the sermon, I found myself contemplating Tanner’s question. Was I feeling so heady about Tyrell because he was now a package deal with kids? It would take the pressure off my feeling like I needed to give him children. And he said anyone who thought I was defective was defective themselves. I wanted children, even if they were only parttime and not biologically my own. I had looked into all the options for adopting over the past few years, and it didn’t bother me to raise children I had not birthed.

By the end of the service, I concluded that while I felt that Tyrell was the man of my dreams, and the girls definitely did up the ante, they were not my sole reason for wanting to move a little more quickly with him. I felt it was time. I was thirty, and I was ready to move off this row of perpetual availability.

Getting my mother to stop setting me up with men fifteen years older was another reason for me to consider moving a little quicker. Just dating Tyrell wouldn’t satisfy her; she wouldn’t consider me off the market until I had spoken vows. I wondered if even that would work.

I headed toward home for my usual Sunday afternoon chores of laundry and grocery shopping. What I was not expecting at my door was my mother, her stilettos tapping as she waited impatiently for me.

Approaching with caution, I put on a fake smile. “Mom, what a pleasant surprise. I just got out of church.” I went past her and into my building, knowing she would follow closely behind without an invitation. She did.

Her silence was deafening as we went up the stairs to my apartment. As soon as I swung my door open, however, she launched into me. “That man has children?”

I cringed. Had my brother already ratted me out? I could shoot him. “Yes, Mother.”

“So, you found a deadbeat dad with a crazed ex?” She then flung a newspaper onto my counter. “Ashley, what is the meaning of this?”

The paper was opened and folded to a photo of me, sitting on the bench, being yelled at by Sabra Thomas. The two officers were standing there, and the girls were watching their mother, wide-eyed. There was no time to contemplate who had taken the photo or what the article said. My mother cared about neither, only that I was photographed and displayed in a negative light.

“I was watching those girls, and their mother went off the deep end saying I had kidnapped them.” I put my purse down and turned toward her.

“And these are Tyrell Harris’s children?”

I braced myself. “Yes.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked like the world was ending. I leaned back on the counter and folded my arms, preparing for the onslaught.

My mother blew out a long breath and readied her rant. It happened often enough. “It’s bad enough you found him and brought him out of whatever pit he had been in and brought him to the charity event. But to find out, like this, that he has children with someone else—someone who is clearly unstable. He had too much baggage back then, and it’s only gotten worse.”

Only my mother would think this way. I scoffed. “How can you call two beautiful, little girls baggage? They are sweet, kind children, thanks to Tyrell and Mrs. Harris.” I looked at the picture again, the girls staring wide-eyed at their mother. I should have shielded them, but it wasn’t exactly my place.

“Are you dating him again?”

I turned my gaze to my mother and smiled sweetly. “I am.”

“Your father said he would cut you off.” She used it as a threat. She had used it for years to get me to do what she wanted.

But this time, I was prepared. I knew my financial situation. The money my father passed out to keep me under his thumb would no longer be useful.

“He can’t cut me off from my trust or my share in the business. If I mean that little to him, if my happiness and well-being mean nothing, then that’s fine.” I went to the door and opened it. “Thank you for stopping by.”

Heels clicked on the laminate flooring. Her hand lightly touched my arm. “Think about what you’re doing, Ashley. Is he worth it? Is someone else’s children worth it?”

---