Page 73 of Surviving Lies

“Sure, Ty. We can talk next week,” I said. “Does Monday work? I don’t have anything Monday night.”

He let out an audible sigh. “That’s perfect, Becca. That’s great. Thanks. Are you sure you’re OK?”

I leaned back against the pillow again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let me wallow in my embarrassment alone for a while.” While I was chuckling at myself, I felt his lips on my forehead, a warm kiss left behind.

“I’m glad you’re OK.”

And then he was gone.

Chapter 21

Ty

The fact that all I could think about was getting back to school to see Becca wasn’t good. I had a lot to focus on this long weekend while I was home. Seeing her hurt and how she looked made me want to tell her everything right then and there. But I couldn’t; I needed to make certain everything was in place the way we’d been planning for. Once it was, I could win Becca back.

But she would have to give me the chance to explain it all first.

And that wasn’t a guarantee.

Fall break allowed me to head home on Friday. But as I pulled into my driveway, both my parent’s cars were in it, so I knew they were home from work. That was a good sign; things were in place and happening.

“Mom? Dad? Where are you?” I yelled as I dropped my things in the entryway. It was odd to be home and not have to head right to my job. This year had been such a challenge between classes, pledging, and driving home most weekends to work. It was not how I envisioned my college years to be, but life isn’t always how we envision it.

“We’re in the den!” my dad yelled back. I walked through the kitchen and noticed my favorite meal, chicken parmigiana, was in progress on the stove. That put a smile on my face. Upon entering the den, I came across a typical scene to come home to. My dad was in his recliner, his usual spot after a long day at work. My mom was at her desk on her computer. She never stopped working, since she worked from home some days as a freelance writer for a magazine. “Hey, Ty. Glad to see you home, son,” my dad said.

“Hey, Dad. Kelly’s not here yet?” My hope was all parties involved in our planned meeting would be present already, but no such luck.

“She called. She and her parents should be here soon,” my mom explained. She was up from her chair and coming in for a hug. “Oh,” she said, squeezing me, “I know you don’t like coming home so much, but I love it.” I hugged her back, knowing she was really trying to just make me feel better.

At that moment, car doors slammed out front. The three of us walked out the door to meet our visitors. My mom was the first to Kelly’s car, as always.

“Where is she?” she squealed as she rounded to the passenger side. “Let me have her!”

Kelly popped out from the side of the car and handed her to my mom.

My daughter. Savannah.

“There she is, the little beauty queen. Oh my, Kelly, look at this adorable dress you have her in,” my mom exclaimed.

Kelly was a pretty girl with her short blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her smile was wide for Savannah as she watched my mom, her grandmother, hold her. Apparently, I had much blonder hair as a young child, similar to that of my mom’s. The three of them huddled together looked very much like family with my daughter’s light fuzz starting to get a bit longer on her head.

Kelly’s parents were slower to emerge from their car. They joined us in the driveway, ogling over the little bundle in my mom’s arms. Everyone was all abuzz about the baby and how she’d grown.

The four women gathered together, mother, child, and the two grandmothers, and walked into the house together, followed by us men.

“How are you, Mr. Roberts?” I asked Kelly’s dad. It had taken some time, but he and I were on good terms now.

“I’m well, Ty, and you? How’s school going?” he asked.

I hesitated before answering. “Classes are going well, sir. Everything is, um, just great. My grades are all A’s and B’s so far, just like last semester.”

He nodded as he and my dad moved into the den and sat down.

All six adults crowded into what was not a small room, but it suddenly felt void of air. I loved this room on any other day. It was the room, when growing up, where we would gather for movie nights and spend Christmases by the tree in front of the picture window. It was the quintessential family room with one of those lived-in comfy couches that everyone fought for because it was their favorite seat. Well, everyone, that was, except my dad, who had his own chair that no one was ever allowed to sit in.

And even though I had been looking forward to this meeting, it was still not a walk in the park having our parents together, considering the circumstances.

My mom still had Savannah in her arms, likely not about to give her up for quite a while. As I walked toward her, the chubby-faced baby caught sight of me and broke out into a wide grin.

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