Renn came out of his room, a smile plastered on his face, and Robbie and Gage pretended their brother hadn’t just smashed a snow globe and dismissed their uncle from the house. The boys were clearly used to the stuffing-things-down-and-not-discussing-them way of dealing with conflicts.
Archie and I shared a few meaningful glances as the brothers worked doggedly to maintain the façade all evening. They joked around, watchingA Christmas Storyin the den that had been a battle zone a few hours prior. Even Robbie had gotten the memo, smiling as Renn pulled me into his lap to share a mug of hot chocolate, tossing marshmallows into the air and catching them in his mouth.
Around eleven, Archie left, and we all went to bed. I startled when Renn reached for me almost immediately, but my initial hesitancy faded as I realized I was as eager as him to convince myself we were okay. When we woke in the morning, I felt able to put the previous day behind us. The boys were excited to open presents, including my humble offerings, and we ate breakfast. Besides a feast of eggs, toast, pancakes, and bacon, there were pop-top cinnamon rolls.
“Renn said we had to get these for you,” Gage explained. “Because that’s something you do on Christmas.”
“My grandma used to make these for me.” I pulled off a sticky piece and handed it to him, popping another in my mouth. The gesture reminded me why I fell in love with Renn.
We had agreed to exchange gifts privately, so later in the day Renn presented me with an oil painting he had done of me and Zach. It was the two of us, younger, heads together behind the bar at Hal’s around the time we first met.
“I asked Zach for a photo, and he told me this was one of your favorites. I’m not a great painter, but I tried.”
“It’s beautiful, Renn.” It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was certainly a solid rendering of the photograph. “I love you did this for me.”
“I thought he could hang it up in the bar, you know, if it’s good enough.”
“I’ll ask him. It would be nice next to the picture of Marshawn Lynch in a hoodie.”
Renn laughed. “A solid pairing, for sure.”
I handed him a little red gift bag. “It’s not much,” I warned. “I saw it at a swap meet in La Mirada and wanted you to have it.”
Renn opened the bag to find a silver chain-link bracelet with an ouroboros charm.
“You gave me an ouroboros,” I whispered, running a fingertip over my tattoo. “So, I wanted to give you one, too.”
Renn undid the clasp and put it on his wrist, shaking his arm a bit until the charm rested in the middle. “I love it.” He grabbed both my cheeks with his hands and kissed me solidly on the mouth. “And I love you.”
It was a great ending to what had threatened to be a disaster of a holiday. I wouldn’t soon forget Renn’s outburst, but I’d also been around him long enough to appreciate it was a rarity, not indicative of the warm and loving man I knew him to be. We all lost our shit sometimes. Giving him grace was a no-brainer.
Still, the tension between Pete and Renn continued to fester.
I came home with Renn once to find Pete at the kitchen table playing a game with Gage, whereupon his uncle had simply stood up and left without a word. They had taken to working out most logistics and need-to-knows via text since in-person exchanges were so fraught. There was always an underlying combustive energy, the powder keg Archie had alluded to.
Yet, inexplicably, they still operated under the general principle that Pete was family, Renn unwilling to banish him completely. Even with their utter inability to communicate. There were terse thank-yous when Pete agreed to babysit and more aggressive-than-passive arguments when plans had to change. Along with these mild everyday strains, I witnessed two more major blow-ups. One happened at Studio Obscurum when I came by to meet Renn. They were discussing purchasing new equipment, and Pete brought up Thomas’s vision for the shop, refusing to stop talking about Renn’s dad even after Renn exploded. Another happened at the house. During one of his ever-more-rare appearances for a family dinner, Pete asked Robbie to clear the table. This launched a shouting match over who had the right to boss who around, to which Pete added gasoline to the fire by stating that Thomas and Mary would have wanted Robbie to be more responsible.
Pete seemed more determined than ever to be his own worst enemy. But as I watched him navigate each interaction, I wondered if it was by design. No one could be this dense.Was he bringing up Thomas on purpose? To what end?I couldn’t guess at his reasoning. What was undisputable was that the situation grew more untenable by the day. Something had to give.
CHAPTER
Twenty
Late February 2016
It was afew days after my blessedly uneventfulthirty-sixth birthday when I told Renn I wanted to approach Zach and Teddy about being their DIY surrogate. I had done a ton of research and finally felt prepared to have the conversation. I also had a renewed sense of urgency due to the fact that Zach and Teddy had surprised the hell out of us by coming back from Mexico married. They’d said there would be another ceremony for friends and family later, but their main objective hadn’t been romance. It had been to make their relationship legally official, providing a better chance at adoption. Seeing them so laser-focused on the goal of parenthood made me even more sure of my decision.
The opportunity to discuss my offer arrived organically in the form of dinner plans we’d made weeks ago with Zach and Teddy to celebrate Renn’s twenty-fifth birthday. I’d asked Renn if he minded having his celebration overshadowed by such a heavy conversation. He’d shaken his head with a wink, observing that all life-altering decisions were easier to make with Rosita’s homemade salsa bar nearby.
As we prepared to head to the restaurant, I felt surprisingly relaxed, confident in both the veracity and practicality of my proposal.
“You told them to get me a present, right?” Renn joked as he changed into jeans and a black sweater. I’d met him at his house so we could go to dinner together. He was stretching out his hands and groaning a bit, the result of a six-hour tattoo session that day.
“Thank God it’s your birthday.” I reached out to massage his palm. “I’m glad to put an end to this one week where I’mtwelveyears older than you.”
Renn extended his other hand behind me to zip up my powder blue mini dress, obviously pleased to see my tattoo on full display. He put his lips on the top of my shoulder. “Mmm…my sexy Mrs. Robinson. You are the best quarter-life crisis any guy ever had.”
“Shut up. That’s not funny,” I said, laughing. But my laughter died as his hand continued up my thigh, drawing circles with his thumb and making me shiver as he scratched his nails lightly over my ink.