Page 35 of Fall Over You

“Okay,” I manage.

She struts off, and god, does her ass look good in those jeans. I haven’t been able to shake the sight of her ass hanging out of her shorts on the hood of my LeBaron since that night.

I feel like a real perv when she lets herself into the bounce house area, toes out of her boots, and runs in to jump with Ellie and Ada. Ellie shrieks and wraps herself around Becca’s legs, and Becca scoops up Ada and spins her around. Their laughter rings out as they fall together on the bouncy floor. Ellie tells Becca something, and Becca listens with bright eyes. And just like with everything, Becca’s not putting on a show. This is who she is. She’s still a kid at heart, even though her face sometimes shows that weathered, tired look of someone who’s lived a thousand lives. How is Becca being wholesome kind of hot too?

“Oh, good. Ada found Auntie B.” Dustin slumps down onto the bench beside me.

A buzzer sounds and Becca, Ada, and Ellie make their way out of the bounce house. Becca hugs both girls before sending them back to us and going on about her business.

I’m stunned as we continue through the fall activities. This can’t be happening. When I’m with Becca, it’s easy to get swept up in her fun-loving ways. When I’m not with her, I remember how when the party’s over and the lights come on, all the mess she left behind appears. Historically, the high has never been worth the mess.

Am I out of my mind to think of marrying her? Everywhere I look, I can see her success, all the things she’s worked hard for coming to fruition. Either she did this on her own, or she conned everyone in her life into making this happen for her.

But my gut tells me that’s not true. Becca’s a hard worker, she just plays as hard as she works.

I haven’t had the luxury of playing, because when I did, I got someone pregnant and added more responsibility to my plate. A responsibility who I love and cherish and is the best part of my life, but a responsibility no less.

We find Becca again later at the pumpkin painting station. She now sports an apron covered in paint smudges, and her hair shrouds her face as she bends to demonstrate something for a kid. Ellie runs at her and attacks her knees and thighs.

“Well, hey again, Miss Ellie!”

When Ellie pulls back, Becca’s apron sticks to her cheek and paint smears on her adorable little outfit, the best one I had for her. With a ragged sigh, I approach, pulling out the pouch of Ellie essentials I keep in my back pocket: a spare pull-up in case she doesn’t make it to the potty, some laundry wipes, a thin pack of baby wipes.

Ellie’s on the verge of tears looking at her stained fall dress, but Becca moves fast. She wipes her finger over a stripe of wet paint on her apron and smudges it down her own cheek. “There. Now we match.”

Ellie doesn’t know what to think, standing there in shock.

Becca crouches to get down to her level. “You think you can paint a pumpkin to look like me? All painted up like this?”

Ellie’s grin is ear to ear. This woman just made my daughter feel welcome and accepted without hesitation.

Making people feel good comes naturally to Becca. That’s always been her talent, even when she was making sure everyone had drugs and drinks enough to forget their problems.

But she’s not handing out bags of powder, pills, or bottles right now. She’s just being herself and putting everyone at ease.

A knot rises in my throat. She sees needs and she solves them.

She saw my need for my business, and she didn’t back down when I floated a ridiculous offer. She would give up her single status so I could be happy. So Ellie could be happy. I can’t let her give herself up like that. All I’ll do is weigh her down when Becca, of all people, was born to fly. She went through many of the same things I did, but instead of coming out battered and bruised, she rises like a phoenix who can also tell jokes and perform magic tricks.

Becca props Ellie to sit on a bale of straw and sets her to work painting a pumpkin. “I’ll come check on you in a second,” she says before patting Ellie’s back and heading to compliment a few other pumpkin paintings.

Becca’s eyes meet mine and she smiles—a secretive smile. A smile that can’t possibly be for me. I look behind me to see who’s there and she laughs.

“You’re a jumpy thing,” Becca says as she approaches, then grimaces. “Sorry I got her all dirty.”

That lump in my throat thickens. “It’s alright.” And it is alright, because Ellie is happy, and not happy like she is in my garage. In my garage, she’s oblivious. Here, she’s engaged. Present. Laughing with other kids. And, oh lord, she’s laughing with Miss Kristen.

“Is your daddy here?” Miss Kristen’s voice crows over the din of happy kids.

Ellie points my way and Miss Kristen becomes a lion spotting prey. My body tenses, preparing for an encounter I don’t really care for.

Becca’s voice cuts in low, where she’s still standing in front of me. “Do you want help?”

“What kind of help?” I murmur.

“Kristen defense.”

“Um.” I’m frozen. What would that entail? I only have a few seconds before I’m in for an uncomfortable encounter. I have to be nice because I don’t want her to treat Ellie any different. Worse, Kristen could not let Ellie into the full day program when a spot opens and I have the money for it. But Becca’s offering me an out, and I want it. “Yes.”