“You are?” she asked, her voice rising an octave. “Best present, eve r.”
“How’s everything?”
“We’re over at Dad’s. James just won another hand of poker. I’m starting to worry.”
“He’s your son, Pidge. Does it surprise you that he’s good at cards?”
“He beat me, Trav. He’s good.”
I paused. “He beat you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you had a rule about that.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I know. I don’t play anymore, but he had a bad day, and it was a good way to get him to talk about it.”
“How’s that?”
“There’s a kid at school. Made a comment about me today.”
“Not the first time a boy made a pass at the hot math teacher.”
“No, but I guess it was particularly crude. Jay told him to shut up. There was a scuffle.”
“Did Jay beat his ass?”
“Travis!”
I laughed. “Just asking!”
“I saw it from my classroom. Jessica got there before I did. She might have . . . humiliated her brother. A little. Not on purpose.”
I closed my eyes. Jessica, with her big honey-brown eyes, long dark hair, and ninety pounds of mean, was my mini-me. She had an equally bad temper and never wasted time with words. Her first fight was in kindergarten, defending her twin brother, James, against a poor, unsuspecting girl who was teasing him. We tried to explain to her that the little girl probably just had a crush, but Jessie wouldn’t have any of it. No matter how many times James begged her to let him fight his own battles, she was fiercely protective, even if he was eight minutes older.
I puffed. “Let me talk to her.”
“Jess! Dad’s on the phone!”
A sweet, small voice came over the line. It was amazing to me that she could be as savage as I ever was, and still sound—and look—like an angel.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Baby . . . did you find some trouble today?”
“It wasn’t my fault, Daddy.”
“It never is.”
“Jay was bleeding. He was pinned down.”
My blood boiled, but steering my kids in the right direction came first. “What did Papa say?”
“He said, ‘It’s about time someone humbled Steven Matese.’”
I was glad she couldn’t see me smile at her spot-on Jim Maddox impression.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to defend your brother, Jess, but you have to let him fight some battles on his own.”
“I will. Just not when he’s on the ground.”
I choked back another swell of laughter. “Let me talk to Mom. I’ll be home in a few hours. Love you bunches, baby.”
“Love you, too, Daddy!”
The phone scratched a bit as it made the transition from Jessica to Abby, and then my wife’s smooth voice was back on the line.
“You didn’t help at all, did you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Probably not. She had a good argument.”
“She always does.”
“True. Listen, we’re pulling up to the airport. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
When the driver parked next to the curb in the terminal, I rushed to pull out my bag from the trunk. Sarah, Thomas’s assistant, just sent through an email with my itinerary, and my flight was leaving in half an hour. I rushed through check-in and security, and made it to the gate just as they were calling the first group.
The flight home seemed to last an eternity, as they always did. Even though I used a quarter of it to freshen up and change clothes in the bathroom—which was always a challenge—the time left over still dragged by.
Knowing my family was waiting for me was brutal, but the fact that it was my and Abby’s eleventh anniversary made it even worse. I just wanted to hold my wife. It was all I had ever wanted to do. I was just as in love with her in our eleventh year as I was in the first.
Every anniversary was a victory, a middle finger to everyone who thought we wouldn’t last. Abby tamed me, marriage settled me down, and when I became a father, my entire outlook changed.
I stared down at my wrist and pulled back my cuff. Abby’s nickname was still there, and it still made me feel better knowing it was there.
The plane landed, and I had to keep myself from sprinting through the terminal. Once I got to my car, my patience had expired. For the first time in years, I ran stoplights and weaved in and out of traffic. It was actually kind of fun, reminding me of my college days.
I pulled into the drive and turned off the headlights. The front porch light flipped on as I approached.
Abby opened the door, her caramel hair just barely grazing her shoulders, and her big gray eyes, although a little tired, showed how relieved she was to see me. I pulled her into my arms, trying not to squeeze her too tightly.
“Oh my God,” I sighed, burying my face in her hair. “I missed you so much.”
Abby pulled away, touching the cut on my brow. “Did you take a fall?”