A KISS FOR A KISS

by Hunting, Helena

  I give her a kiss and a hug, and she takes her place at the altar. I sniff once and clear my throat, trying to keep my emotions in check. I’m not much of a crier, and never have been. But she’s my baby girl, and it doesn’t matter that she’s an adult. I’ll always remember the first time I held her in my arms, so tiny and new, and how she seemed like an impossible miracle.

  I blink a few times and fish a tissue out of my pocket, just in case. My gaze catches on Hanna, standing with her bouquet of flowers in front of her, ducking her head every so often to dab at her eyes.

  She meets my gaze and I quirk a brow, a silent, “Are you okay?”

  She tips her chin down and gives me a quick wink, signaling that she is indeed okay, before she refocuses on King and Queenie. And I do the same.

  Watching my daughter and her son join their lives together.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Little Too Real

  Hanna

  I’M ONLY HALF-tuned into the conversation happening to my right. Soon, I’ll have to get up and give a speech. I feel like a bit of a fraud. Not because I don’t believe I belong at the head table as one of Queenie’s bridesmaids. She and I have grown close. At first when she asked me to be part of the wedding party, I thought she was being nice by trying to include me, to give me a role in the wedding, when the one I truly wanted to be able to claim wasn’t mine to take. But I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. That the request had been genuine.

  I accepted regardless of motive, but in the months leading up to the wedding, I found myself taking on a new role in her life. Not just as a friend, but as a sort of maternal figure. Queenie came to me for wedding advice, and my unique relationship with Ryan gave me a special kind of insight.

  Ryan and I were raised as siblings, but the truth is, he’s not my brother. An accidental teen pregnancy threw my life into upheaval. When my parents found out, they were upset at first, but they weren’t about to leave me to fend for myself. I wouldn’t consider terminating the pregnancy, so that meant I could either raise him on my own—the father was in college and not interested in being involved in Ryan’s life—give him up for adoption, or the third option my parents presented. They would adopt him and raise him as their own. I’d been young and scared, and allowing my parents to adopt Ryan had seemed like the best choice.

  But today has tested my emotional limits in ways I didn’t expect. And maybe I should have. It’s an odd position to be in—sitting up here as one of the bridesmaids. Being part of the wedding party for Queenie and Ryan, who most people here believe is my much younger brother, when in reality, he’s my son.

  That’s been the most difficult part of today—the realization that I’ll always experience the landmarks in Ryan’s life from the vantage point of his sister, even though in my heart I’m more than that. I’ll forever be in this strange middle ground between sibling and parent. I thought I’d come to terms with that long ago, and for the most part I have, but today hasn’t been easy. When I was younger, I didn’t have the same perspective I do now. I couldn’t see, in the same way, all the things I would have to take a back seat on.

  I sip my wine, doing my best to keep a smile on my face and stay engaged in the conversation. I haven’t been able to stomach much for dinner, which is a pity since what little I’ve managed to eat has been delicious.

  My mother approaches the head table. She pauses to talk to Queenie and Ryan before she makes her way down the table to me. “Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Of course, Mom.” I set my napkin on the table and push my chair back, meeting my mother on the other side of the table.

  She threads her arm through mine and leads me away from all the guests. When we’re a safe distance away, she puts her hands on my arms and gives me a warm smile. “You were fabulous today. I’m so glad you and Queenie get along so well. She seems like a good fit for Ryan, doesn’t she?” It sounds like she’s asking for confirmation more than anything.

  “They’re perfect for each other,” I assure her. And they are. Queenie is full of life, effervescent, and willing to take risks and think outside the box, which is exactly what Ryan needs in a partner.

  “Good, good. That’s good. You look so lovely in this dress. Such a perfect fit for the bridal party.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Is there something you need or...” I let it hang.

  “Oh. Right. Yes.” She adjusts my hair and the strap of my dress. “I wanted to tell you that you’re not obligated to give a speech tonight if you don’t feel comfortable. I know it’s awkward for you, so if you don’t think it’s something you can handle, don’t push yourself, dear. I know today is emotional for you.”

  That’s mom speak for don’t embarrass yourself. She continues to talk around my relationship with Ryan, and the fact he’s not actually her son. It’s been a real challenge. And one I really don’t need shoved in my face today. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that under advisement.”

  The master of ceremonies for the evening steps up to the mic and gives it a tap. The feedback is extreme and loud.

  “We should probably sit back down since the speeches are starting,” I tell her.

  “Oh yes, of course.” She kisses me on the cheek and heads back to her seat and I do the same.

  If I wasn’t trying my damnedest to hold it together before, I sure am now.

  Thankfully, the emcee is Ryan’s best man, Bishop Winslow, whom I’m sure is going to provide some much-needed comic relief. He’s an interesting choice, in part because he’s clearly not comfortable speaking in front of people, despite half of them being his teammates. And also because he has the bedside manner of an agitated polar bear.

  “Why does he have to touch it every single time?” Stevie pushes her chair back and hikes her dress up so she doesn’t trip on the hem as she rushes to the podium. Her heels are under the table, so her feet are bare.

  When she reaches Bishop, she bats his hands away.

  He makes a face. “Why are you slapping me, bae? What am I doing wrong?”

  She huffs, “Just let me help.”

  He steps away from the podium and clasps his hands behind his back, letting her adjust the mic for him while giving the crowd a shrug. Everyone chuckles, especially when he rocks back on his heels and starts whistling the Jeopardy theme song.

  Stevie shakes her head at him and turns her attention to the waiting guests. “Sorry about that. Shippy doesn’t usually do public speaking.”

  His mouth drops open and he holds his hands up. “Whoa, whoa. What the he—H-E-double hockey sticks?” He manages to censor his language.

  She shrugs. “What? I’m not wrong. You never do.”

  “You called me Shippy in front of a hundred people, bae.” He motions to the guests sitting at the tables. “Not cool. You’re gonna pay for that later.”

  She rolls her eyes and spins around, but she’s smiling as she walks away. “Whatever.”

  “You say whatever now, but later you’ll be saying—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence unless you want me to toss your ass into the pool, Winslow!” her brother, Rook, shouts from a few seats down.

  Bishop cringes. “Oh shit. I mean, shoot. Right. Sorry, grandparents and anyone with young children. I’m not the best at keeping it PG with my words, which I’m gonna have to get better at since Stevie has already told me she wants a bunch of little Bishops running around. Hopefully, they have her personality and not mine.” He sends a wink Stevie’s way.

  “And her ability to watch her language,” Ryan adds.

  That gets another chuckle from the crowd.

  Bishop shrugs and thumbs toward Ryan. “I told them I’m not the best at this whole speech thing. I failed it back when I was in middle school, probably because I ad-libbed with swear words. Anyway, as you all know by now, I’m the best man and Ryan’s best friend. We’ve known each other for a lot of years. When we were teens, we played for the same team when we were in the minors. Ryan is basically the reason I stayed o
ut of trouble, not because I was particularly good at following rules, but when you’re like me, and you have the personality of a rabid porcupine, not a lot of people will put up with you.”

  “You’re more like a declawed panther, Shippy!” Stevie heckles.

  He gives her a look and shakes his head. “I’m coming for you later, bae.” He brings his attention back to the guests. “She’s such a beautiful distraction, isn’t she?” He runs his hand nervously over his tie. “Anyway, where was I?”

  “You were talking about your winning personality and your bromance,” Rook reminds him.

  “Right. Yeah. So Ryan, being the stand-up guy he is, decided I was worth all the headaches. And an unlikely friendship began. Sort of like a bunny befriending a grizzly bear.” Bishop pulls some paper out of his pocket. It’s lined school paper. He unfolds it and sets it on the podium. “Anyway, I wrote a bunch of shit—I mean stuff—down, mostly jot notes and things I wanted to touch on.” He clears his throat and smooths a hand over his tie, then takes a sip of his drink.

  “For those of you who don’t know King very well, I can tell you, he’s the most responsible guy I’ve ever met in my life. He drives like a ninety-year-old on Sunday afternoon. Sorry if there are any ninety-year-olds out there, but man, you better not be in a rush to get anywhere if you’re riding with King. Aside from his excessive caution when driving, he’s a pretty great guy. And loyal. You’ve never let me down, buddy, except for that time you let Rook take shots at me.”

  The head table chuckles, and a few people look around at each other, not understanding the reference. “You see, this guy right here is the reason I’m married to Stevie. If it weren’t for his advice, and his patience, I don’t think I would have gotten my head out of my butt long enough to figure out how to get her to date me. Man, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” He tugs at his tie again, his face starting to turn red, possibly from embarrassment.

  “Back to King. He’s a rule follower, through and through, but when he met Queenie, well . . .” He waggles his brows and smirks. “Let’s just say, for the first time in all the years I’ve known him, I watched him struggle to follow those rules he likes so much.”

  He takes another sip of his drink. “I wanted to talk about the way these two actually met, because everyone believes that was when Queenie started working for the team, but their first introduction came six weeks before the start of the season.”

  I glance down the table at Ryan, whose cheeks are on fire. Queenie’s cheeks have gone pink as well, but she’s hiding a grin behind her hand. She whispers something to Ryan, who arches a brow and calls out, “You might want to move this along unless you’re planning to relinquish your best friend status.”

  That gets us another round of giggles.

  Bishop smirks. “Don’t worry, King, I won’t give up all your best secrets. Anyway, I can tell you that Queenie must have left a lasting impression, because King is the most even-keeled guy in the universe. Not much ruffles his feathers, but Queenie lit a fire under his a—butt.” He smiles, and it’s no longer a smirk, but something softer. “Queenie, you came into King’s life at exactly the right time. He needed someone to shake things up, and you did that in just the way he needed. You made a great guy an even better man. If there were ever two people who are meant for each other, apart from my bae and me, it’s the two of you.”

  Queenie hugs Ryan’s arm and mouths thank you to Bishop.

  “You took my milk-drinking, khaki-wearing, straight arrow of a best friend and you pushed him outside his comfort zone. So thanks for that.” Bishop lifts his drink, which is mostly empty, and toasts the couple.

  More speeches follow, and when it’s my turn to speak, I freeze and only manage to say how happy I am for Ryan and Queenie and how they’re made for each other. It feels slightly disingenuous to talk about my relationship with Ryan as my brother, even though that’s how most of our lives have been spent. Jake and my parents are the last to speak before Queenie and Ryan.

  Jake takes his place at the podium and sets his glass of water to the side. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m going to make it through this without a few voice cracks.” He clears his throat. “King, you are such a lucky man to get to love my daughter.”

  Ryan smiles and kisses Queenie’s temple.

  “Queenie, what a phenomenal woman you’ve become. I’m always so impressed by your resilience, your compassion, your zeal for life. From the moment you were born, I knew you were destined for great things. You have this light, this way of making people fall in love with you.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and clears his throat. “There were times when I wasn’t sure if I was doing this whole parenting thing right, Queenie, and I feel like we learned a lot by trial and error, especially when it came to things like hiding all the Sharpies and only leaving the Crayola markers lying around. That was a rough lesson.”

  “For you, not for me,” Queenie quips.

  Everyone laughs.

  “We’ve been through a lot together, you and I. Lots of up and downs. Every boo-boo we put a Band-Aid on was a life lesson for me. I couldn’t protect you from the world, no matter how hard I tried, so I did my best to make sure you always knew I was going to be there to help you up when you fell. You’ve become a strong, independent woman, and I’m so damn proud of you. And you’ve picked such a great partner.” His gaze shifts to Ryan and he blows out a breath. “King, I know you’re going to love my daughter the way she deserves to be loved, without reservations or conditions. You make her happy in a way no one else ever has. It’s been a joy to watch you two grow together.” He raises a glass. “To a love that knows no boundaries.”

  Glasses clink and then my parents get up to speak.

  “Ryan, you were such an unexpected surprise, and we’re so glad you came into our lives when you did. You were exactly what our family needed. Your kindness and your gentle soul enriched all of our lives so much.” My mother dabs at her eyes. “Raising you was an honor and delight, and it’s so humbling to see what a wonderful man you’ve become. You’ve made us so very proud. I have faith that you will be a dedicated husband, and eventually a father, exactly the way you are in every other part of your life.”

  It’s a real battle to keep my emotions in check as my mother continues to talk about all of Ryan’s accomplishments.

  And I know that without their support and their guidance I would never have had the opportunities I did, and neither would Ryan. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that if it had even been a few years later, I would have been able to raise him instead of handing over the reins to my parents.

  Once the speeches are finished, I breathe an internal sigh of relief, thinking that we’re through the hardest part. At least until the father-daughter and mother-son dance.

  And that’s when the reality of today truly hits me.

  I will never have this moment with my son. I will never walk down the aisle beside my own child. And it stings.

  I slip out of my chair, excusing myself to the bathroom as the song is coming to a close, unable to keep my emotions in check. I don’t head for the pool house, which is closer. Instead, I slip around the edge of the yard and carefully make my way back to the main house. Once inside, I toe off my heels and walk down the hall, ducking into the spare bedroom. I close the door behind me with a quiet click and will the tears away.

  But it’s too much.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A Shoulder to Lean on

  Jake

  “WHAT’S THIS ABOUT you and King meeting before you started working as my personal assistant? And how come this is the first I’m hearing about it?” I ask Queenie as I move her around the dance floor. Mostly I’m digging for information. Queenie and I don’t keep much from each other. She usually tells me what’s going on in her life, and the only times she’s kept things from me that I would consider important are when she’s worried I’d be upset—or disappointed.

  But this little piece of inform
ation and King’s reaction, which was to turn the color of a beet, make me curious.

  Her smile grows wry. “We met at a bar.”

  “King doesn’t go to bars. Not unless he’s with the team.”

  “It was the night he found out about Hanna.”

  “Oh.” I pull back so I can see her face. “That must have been hard for him.”

  Queenie smiles. “It was. I didn’t know he was one of your players, and he obviously didn’t realize I was your daughter. He was trying to get drunk.”

  “King was trying to get drunk?” I glance across the dance floor where Ryan is expertly waltzing with his mother. Like he’s taken lessons. He probably has. It seems like something he’d do.

  Queenie throws her head back and laughs. “I know, right? To be fair, trying is the operative word. He had six drinks lined up in front of him and they were all full because he genuinely doesn’t like the taste of alcohol. He said he was a fan of milk, so I ordered him a White Russian. We traded secrets and promised to keep them for each other.”

  “And that was it?” I arch a brow.

  “The rest is history, isn’t it? All you need to know is he was the gentleman he always presents himself to be, even while slightly intoxicated.” She pats me on the chest. “Anyway, fate seemed to have plans for us with the way it kept throwing us into each other’s paths, and now here we are, starting the rest of our lives together.”

  “He’s a good egg.”

  “The best.”

  With each rotation on the dance floor, I catch a glimpse of Hanna sitting at the head table, a small pile of tissues sitting on top of the pale purple linen. Her gaze is fixed on the other side of the dance floor, and it looks as though she’s struggling to keep it together.

  I know today has been hard for her. I could see it on her face when her mother and father spoke about what a remarkable man King’s become and how he came into their lives at the right time.