by Various
He grabbed her arm and spun her back around, enfolding her in his arms. Too exhausted to fight her need for this small bit of comfort, she sighed deeply and wrapped her arms around him.
“Daisy had the baby,” she said into his chest.
“What?” He pulled back to look into her eyes.
“Daisy had the baby. A healthy baby boy.”
“That’s good. You’re an aunt. Congratulations.”
Her throat tightened. “She named him Bryce because a nurse told her it meant swift. He was in a hurry to get here.” She tried to laugh, but it turned into a sniffle. She brushed a tear away.
He looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve got to go.”
And this time, he let her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two days later, Ryan pulled a fancy envelope out of his mail pile and ripped it open.
You are invited to the wedding of Margaret O’Hare and Jorge Chavez
Saturday, September 19th at one o’clock
St. Joseph’s Church
179 Main Street
Clover Park, Connecticut
Bring your dancing shoes for the Happy Ever After party to follow!
RSVP by September 12th
__Accept with pleasure
__Decline with regret
Gran was really going through with this. He marched out the door, headed straight to Gran’s house to talk some sense into her. It’s too soon. He knew it in his gut. Gran hardly knew this loser.
He stopped on the sidewalk, switched gears. Maybe he should shake some sense into Jorge first. Where did that jackass live? Oh, right, with Gran. They were already shacking up. His hands tightened into fists.
He arrived at her house and checked for Jorge’s car. He must be at work. He knocked once and let himself in. She’d left it unlocked again.
“Gran!” he barked.
His grandmother appeared from the back of the house. “Lower your voice, Ryan. I can tell by the wild look on your face that you got the invitation, so have a seat and let’s talk.”
She wore a bright red T-shirt and jeans that were too tight for a woman her age. Who did she think she was fooling? She was a grandmother, not a teenager. She should be wearing one of her flowery dresses or something more…senior citizen friendly.
She gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs in the living room, and she took the sofa.
“Gran, you can’t marry this guy—”
“I can, and I will.”
He steepled his fingers. Remain calm. Reason with her. “But what do we really know about him?”
She met his eyes with a steady gaze. “I know all I need to know, and I hope you will get to know him better soon.”
Ryan leaned forward. “What’s the rush?”
“When it’s right, it’s right,” she said.
“How can it be right? The guy’s, what…twenty years younger, and you’ve known him for five minutes! It’s not happening.” He set his jaw, determined to get through to her. “You haven’t been the same since your accident. Someone has to look out for your best interests. You sure as hell aren’t thinking clearly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Ryan O’Hare! You will not speak to me like a child. I’m happy, and I’m doing this.”
He pitched his voice low and steady. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“You don’t,” Gran said firmly.
He blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know what to say. This just feels wrong.”
“Say you’re happy for me,” she said with a small smile. “Be our best man, because you are a great man. That’s how I raised you.”
He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes over the headache forming there. “Dammit,” he muttered.
The next thing he knew, Gran had her arms around him. “I love you.” She patted his back. “Now shoo. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
There was nothing he could do to stop the wedding. Or was there? He could run a background check on Jorge to see if there was any dirt. Then he and Jorge could have a little talk. Man to man.
He stood. “Okay. I’d better get back to work.”
She nodded and walked with him to the door. He’d just pushed it open when she said, “Your father will be at the wedding with his girlfriend, Gina.”
He turned around, and she shut the door in his face. End of discussion.
Great. Now he had his grandmother throwing her life savings away on some tango-dancing asshole, his drunk old man showing up after seventeen years with some bimbo, and the one person he actually gave a damn about too spooked over a pregnancy scare to see him. If he was a drinking man, this would be the perfect time. Instead, he went for a run and didn’t stop until he could think of nothing but the next step, the next breath, and the pounding of his heart.
~ ~ ~
That night Ryan waited in the shadows in the parking lot of the Jorge Chavez Dance Studio, refusing to step foot in that seducer’s so-called dance class. Major pick-up scene obviously. If he’d known that, he would’ve made sure Gran never signed up in the first place. The background check had come up with zilch, but that didn’t mean Ryan was gonna let the guy off easy. By the time all the students had left the dance studio, he’d worked up an even bigger mad. Just one good punch. That’s all he needed.
Finally, Jorge stepped outside.
“Yo, Jorge!” he called across the empty parking lot.
Jorge looked around, and Ryan stepped out into the light of a nearby streetlight, crossing the lot to the older man.
“Hello, Ryan, what brings you here tonight?” Jorge gave him an open, friendly smile, acting like nothing had ever happened that might piss someone off. “My dance studio is closed, but we reopen tomorrow at three.”
Ryan restrained himself. He wasn’t a bully. Still, the man was trying to pull one over on Gran.
“What’s the hurry to marry my grandmother?” Ryan demanded. “Hoping to cash in on her life insurance? Inherit a nice house?” He glowered at the older man, a look that had sent the guilty to confessing back in his cop days.
“I know what you’re doing,” Jorge said in a soothing tone. “Protecting Maggie, but it’s not necessary. I love her.” He put his hand on his heart. “I swear that’s all.”
Ryan grabbed the front of Jorge’s shirt and yanked him up close. “If you hurt her or take one cent from her, you’ll find yourself in jail so fast you’ll do one of those tango spins you like so much.”
Jorge swallowed visibly. “I lost my wife five years ago to cancer.”
Ryan dropped his hold. “I didn’t know that.”
Jorge straightened out his white button-down shirt. “I’ve learned to grab happiness where I can.” His eyes welled up. “I never thought I’d love again.”
Ryan felt an unwelcome pang of sympathy. “All right, shut up already.”
Jorge did not shut up. “Your grandmother’s so full of life. She might even outlive me. If anything does happen to her, I’ll make sure she leaves everything to you and your brothers.”
Now he felt like an asshole. Ryan wasn’t angling to get Gran’s inheritance. He just didn’t want this bozo to have it.
“Good.” Ryan turned and headed back to his car.
“It would mean so much to Maggie and me if you were our best man,” Jorge called across the deserted parking lot.
“Fine!” Ryan barked, not bothering to turn around. He hit the remote to unlock his car and slid in. None of this craziness would’ve happened if Gran hadn’t been in that accident and gone nuts about “living life to the fullest.” He lived life to the fullest, and you didn’t see him running off to marry Liz. And he knew her a helluva lot better than Gran knew Jorge. Liz was beautiful and kind and full of fire if you knew what buttons to push. And he did.
Not that she’d have you.
He hadn’t been alone with Liz in a week. He peeled out of the lot and blasted the radio. He just wanted to talk to someone who’d unders
tand the whole Gran craziness.
He wanted Liz.
~ ~ ~
School was starting in two weeks, and with the classroom prep and meetings she had to go to, Liz realized she wouldn’t be able to fly out to see Daisy and Bryce until after the first week of school on the long holiday weekend for the Jewish high holy days. Her mother would be returning just days before Liz’s first staff meeting. Daisy would be on her own for ten days, but hopefully with their mother’s help, she’d get the hang of the baby thing quickly. Liz entered the dates into the travel discount website to find a nonstop flight.
The doorbell rang. She peered through the peephole. Ryan! Shoot. She looked down at her yellow pajama pants with smiling monkey faces and matching pajama top and sighed. It wasn’t like she was trying to seduce him at this point. In fact, she wasn’t sure what to do about him. She still didn’t know if she was pregnant. So where did that leave them? Her life didn’t make sense anymore.
She opened the door.
“Hey, Liz,” he said in his deep voice that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine despite everything. “Can I come in?”
She stepped back. “Of course, what’s up?”
“Did you get the wedding invitation?”
Ah, Maggie trouble. Well, that’s easier than trying to figure out what to do about a maybe baby.
“I did,” she said gently. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take some water.” He sank down heavily on the sofa.
She headed for the kitchen. She missed him, missed his touch. But she didn’t want to sleep with him again before she knew what was what. Pregnant or not pregnant were two radically different paths for her future. She poured two glasses of water and joined him on the sofa, crossing her legs primly.
“So, you’re upset about Maggie getting married,” Liz said.
His eyebrows drew together, and he gave her a look that said she was Queen of the Obvious.
“Your grandmother’s happy,” Liz said. “And it’s her life. I think we should just give her this bit of happiness, even if it seems sudden.”
He threw his hands up. “There’s nothing I can do about it. She won’t listen. And Jorge practically cried telling me he loved her.” His lip curled on this last bit.
“Why would he cry?” she asked with growing alarm. Had Ryan threatened him? He was very angry that night.
He waved that away. “Wimp. I don’t know. Anyway, it’s done. I’m the best man. End of story.”
“Really?” She shook her head. “Wow. That’s wonderful. I thought…well, you seemed so upset—”
“I don’t have to be happy about it.”
“No, you don’t.” She smiled inwardly. He was putting Maggie first, even when that included things he wasn’t happy about. He was a good grandson. A good guy.
She took a sip of water and longed to just curl up against his side. “Do you want to watch TV?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Sure.”
She put on HGTV and curled up against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He slid an arm around her. They watched a series of House Hunters as young couples tried to choose between three different homes. Ryan inserted his opinion on the construction of the house while she shared her thoughts on the functionality of the interior. It was cozy.
Eventually, it got late. She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t want sex until she knew for sure she wasn’t pregnant. Maybe not even then.
She sat up and clicked off the TV. “I’m pretty tired.”
He stood. His fingers reached out and snagged her hand, pulling her up off the sofa. She looked down at their entwined hands.
“I really need my sleep,” she said, avoiding his eyes because then she knew she’d cave.
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I just want to be with you.”
She gazed into his eyes, read the sincerity there. Without a word, she led him to her bedroom.
Once there, she fled to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. She did a mad cleanup, hiding the tampons and pregnancy test she’d bought, scrubbing the toothpaste off the sink. She glanced in the mirror. Her hair was messed up on one side from leaning against his warm body, and she wore no makeup. She brushed out her hair. At least she could do that. After she’d finished brushing and flossing, she opened the door and handed him an extra toothbrush she kept on hand for guests.
“Thanks,” he said, looking at it with amusement. “This is mine from now on?”
He wants to keep a toothbrush at my place? That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Stop reading into things.
“Sure,” she said.
He disappeared into the bathroom.
She moved to her bed, placed the throw pillows to the side, fluffed up the sleeping pillows, and got in. She laid flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it meant when a guy wanted to spend the night with you knowing he wasn’t going to get any. She hated feeling like the old Liz, thinking so much about the relationship. But that’s what a possible pregnancy could do for you. Bring everything to a very serious—if unstable—level.
Ryan stepped out a moment later, whistling. He peeled off his T-shirt and jeans and dropped them on the floor. Before she could ask him to fold them neatly and leave them on the dresser, he slipped under the covers next to her. She felt his heat instantly through her thin, cotton monkey pajamas. She turned off the lamp on her nightstand.
He pulled her close. She lay in his arms, chest to chest, their legs tangled together. His skin was warm, and she inhaled his woodsy male scent. She allowed herself the pleasure of running her hands up and down his back.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.
“I’m not thinking anything,” he replied, kissing her hair.
“Really? Nothing at all?”
“A complete blank.”
“Oh.” She could feel his interest pressing hard against her leg.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
I’m worried I’m pregnant. I’m worried I’m not. I’m worried this was all a mistake.
“Nothing,” she said, rolling away from him.
He spooned her from behind, slipping one arm under her pillow, the other wrapped loosely around her middle. She snuggled into him, and he scooted her bottom away a bit. “Don’t move.”
She twined her fingers in his and sighed.
They lay there quiet in the dark. Unable to sleep, she listened to the even sound of his breathing until it seemed he’d fallen asleep.
In the silence, he suddenly spoke. “My old man will be at the wedding.”
She knew from Maggie that his father was a recovering alcoholic and that he’d abandoned Ryan and his brothers. “How long has it been since you last saw him?”
“Since I was seventeen. He was a drunk. I heard he sobered up, but I still don’t want to see him. What do I need from him? Nothing.”
She felt a rush of tenderness that he’d shared what was obviously a difficult subject for him. She knew he did need his father on some level. Even if it was just to tell him he didn’t want him in his life. Ryan needed that closure.
“You only get one family,” she said softly. “Only one father.”
“I have family,” he snapped. “Gran, my brothers. That’s what counts.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not saying you owe him anything. You don’t. But just talk to him at least once before the wedding. Maggie doesn’t deserve any drama on her big day. She deserves peace and happiness.”
He grunted in response.
She rubbed his arm soothingly. “Just do it for Maggie, okay?”
There was a long silence, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “Good night.” He held her hand in the dark.
The warmth of his body and the exhaustion of the past week caught up with her. “Night,” she muttered. Her last thought before
she drifted off was that at least things were good with them in the bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Liz woke early a few days later with some mild cramping. She was a day late for her period. Was it cramps or the implantation of the embryo? She’d done a lot of reading on early pregnancy symptoms online and found she had most of them: tender breasts, bloating, irritability. Of course, that could also be PMS.
She headed to the bathroom to check. She’d gotten her period. She let out a deep breath. Okay. Life could go back to normal.
She washed up, got back in bed, and reached for her cell to text the only two people in the world who knew about it. First Ryan: I’m not pregnant. Then Rachel: Not pg.
Rachel was already up and texted back right away: Hallelujah. Meet me for lunch. My treat.
Liz wasn’t in the mood, but she appreciated Rachel’s support so she texted back: OK.
Her phone rang a minute later. Ryan.
“Hey, Liz, that’s great news! We dodged a bullet there.”
Her throat felt tight. She just couldn’t be cheerful about the whole thing. “I guess we did,” she managed.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m just not feeling too well. I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Bye.” She hung up and curled onto her side, hugging herself while the tears flowed freely, as she mourned the loss of what might have been.
~ ~ ~
After a full day and night of grief, interrupted only by a quick lunch with Rachel, where Liz was no kind of company, it was with a measure of relief that she left her apartment and went out into the sunshine of a late August Saturday. She drove to Maggie’s house, as per her request by text last night, to help her find the perfect wedding dress.
They got into Maggie’s convertible, top down of course. Maggie’s outfit—black T-shirt with gold lettering that read Jorge Chavez Dance Studio, white pleather mini-skirt, and white Keds—had Liz wondering what she had in mind for her dress.
“Where to?” Liz asked. “Kelly’s Bridals? The Majestic Bride?”
“Let’s hit the juniors’ section at Macy’s. I liked the look of this year’s crop of prom dresses.”