by R. J. Lee
“Hallelujah. Well, at least you know you won’t have any in-law problems,” she said, as they both laughed. “There won’t be any awkward introductions for me to make, or my father worrying about whether the man I’m marrying is good enough for me. He’s always been way ahead of the curve.”
Then they sat down and resumed their lunch. But things were already different between them. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as they chewed and sipped in silence. There was probably much more that could have been said, but neither of them felt like saying it at the moment. There would be plenty of time to get to that in the months ahead. This was the time to contemplate each other as future spouses while the glow of commitment was at its most radiant.
Later, as they were clearing the dishes together, Wendy finally broke the silence. “I hope you’ve saved room for a slice of my pecan pie. I don’t like to brag, but I think it’s a killer.”
“Oops,” Ross said, putting his plate in the sink. “Maybe a bad choice of words, ya think?”
“You’re right. We don’t want to invite any more trouble. We’ve had too much to deal with already.”
Over their slices of pecan pie, which both of them were savoring slowly because of the sugary richness, Ross decided to make an awkward confession. “You know, I was beginning to think you would never say yes to me. I was willing to respect that independent streak of yours, and I thought to myself, ‘You’ve done everything you could, Ross. Let it go and walk away.’ ”
“I think that’s a bit overdramatic. We’ve never stopped seeing each other, you know. It was just me making sure I could do my new job at the paper, that’s all,” she told him. “I came around when I’d proven to myself that I actually could. But it didn’t happen overnight. It’s taken the better part of a year.”
He raised an eyebrow but was careful to keep a smile on his face. “Now I coudda told you that. You’re not the type to fail at anything you try. So if I knew that, then why didn’t you?”
She was up to his challenge and shot him a skeptical glance. “So you came out of the academy with nothing to prove to yourself? There’s no such thing as a rookie in law enforcement? You were a finished product? Tell me you weren’t actually that sure of yourself.”
Ross looked slightly embarrassed. “Touché.”
“Anyway, we’re on the same page at this point in our lives,” she said. “Six or seven months from now, we’ll be walking around the streets of Rosalie hand in hand as Mr. and Mrs. Ross Rierson; and if you want my informed opinion, I think we’re gonna make one helluva good team.”
“I can’t disagree with that,” he said. “But you know what? I think Rosalie caught lightning in a bottle when you decided to come home to use that journalism degree of yours.”
“I hadn’t thought of myself that way,” she said, beaming at him. “But you might be right. All the time I was taking all those courses in school, I dreamed of winding up in New York or Washington, D.C., for my beat. I was going to make my reputation in one or the other and never look back. But here I am where I grew up, and Rosalie seems to be bringing out the best in me. Go figure.”
Wendy decided to keep the rest of her thoughts to herself, however. She was wise enough to realize that she was not in control of everything. There was this thing that kept happening every time she sat down to play a serious game of bridge, you see.