A New Resolution: A Modern Match-Maker Romance

by Ryder, Rocklyn

  "Shut the fuck up," Tim tells me, "nothing like that and you know it. I'm just saying we hung out with her a few times and she's got a total other side to her."

  I nod. Totally get what he's saying.

  "But that Norma," Tim laughs and shakes his head, "She's the reason we moved on and got to know Court. If Norma hadn't started telling us stories about Courtney when she was growing up, I do't know if we'd given her a chance."

  "Huh." I don't know how I feel about finding out that my own team almost overlooked my perfect woman. I mean, sure, I would have too, but that's exactly why I went with a professional match maker and an arranged marriage-- because I thought these assholes would be better at seeing what I wouldn't.

  "So really, man, you disappeared for 2 days, you gotta give up some details. You owe me." Tim brings it right back to the beginning again just in time for our captain to announce that we're beginning the descent into our airport.

  Evie's movie is over and she she pulls the ear buds from her ears."

  "So, are you going to tell us about your weekend or do I have to wait till Courtney's actually kin and hear it from her?" Evie cuts straight to the chase as she packs her few things back into her purse and prepares for landing.

  I shake my head and grin, refusing to give in.

  My wife can tell her cousin-in-law anything she wants once we're hitched.

  Courtney

  "No, he's going to meet me there," I cradle the phone against the side of my face while I talk so I can continue packing.

  "No, not yet," I sigh a little heavier than I intend to with my answer and hope Kelly doesn't notice, "yeah, we have...no, not really...yes, I know..."

  Kelly makes a noise that makes me think I know exactly what face she's making, but she doesn't keep pestering me.

  Instead, she changes the subject and starts telling me about the guy she just started dating.

  I'm grateful for the shift in conversation and for the chance to concentrate on picking out the clothes I'm taking to Mom and Dad's for the holiday weekend.

  I'm also grateful to this David guy that has my bestie so love-struck that she's more interested in talking about her own love life more than mine for a change.

  Somewhere between laying out the new outfit I bought to wear for Thanksgiving dinner at my folks' and adding a back up outfit in case I'm not feeling brave enough to wear the baby blue cashmere sweater in a house where running children and mashed potatoes will be co-existing, Kelly tells me she's going to David's parents for Thanksgiving.

  My gasp is unintentional but completely sincere.

  "What?" Kelly demands, sounding defensive.

  "No," I start back-peddling, "it's just that you guys have only been hanging out for like 2 weeks, right?"

  "So what? You're marrying a man you've only known for 2 months."

  Inwardly groaning, I acknowledge her point and try to sooth her ruffled feathers.

  My bestie has never been the serious relationship type. She doesn't move fast, she doesn't settle down, and she sure as hell doesn't take a week off of work so she can fly to some po-dunk town in Ohio to eat turkey with a man's family.

  Frankly, yeah, I'm a little surprised. At least that gives me something else to think about.

  "You're really going to meet his family?" I sit down on the edge of my bed, forgetting about my jeans verses leggings dilemma and wrinkling the sleeve of the crisply ironed blouse that I'd just carefully laid out.

  "Is that really so weird?"

  On the other side of the phone, Kelly sounds genuinely hurt.

  "I like this one, Court," she confesses in a hushed tone, "I think this could go somewhere, you know?"

  "No, Kellz," I assure her, "it's not weird, it's just that I don't think I've ever seen you so into a guy before. I think it's great."

  She sounds relieved and goes on about David for another 15 minutes before she decides she sounds silly, insists she's not in love, and then ends our call in a flurry of "good luck/have fun/call me" in order to talk to him when her call waiting goes off.

  I smile to myself thinking about how much our lives have changed in the last year while I get back to my packing project.

  I almost forgot to pack my hair dryer.

  So I run into the bathroom, unplug it, and walk back to the open suitcase on my bed while wrapping the cord around the barrel.

  As soon as I find a corner to shove it into I make another trip back to the bathroom, this time for the straightening rod.

  I stare at the thing laying across the stack of clothes in the suitcase and frown.

  I'm not sure I really need it. Mom will have a curling iron if I decide to get fancy with my hair.

  Frowning at the hair dryer, I pull it back out of the case along with the straightener.

  Mom will have a hair dryer too.

  I'm over thinking this.

  Taking a trip back home has never given me so much trouble before. I've always been able to open the suitcase, throw in a bunch of season-appropriate clothes, close the suitcase and know that Mom will have whatever I forgot or I can always go pick up a replacement at the store.

  I'm just nervous.

  Mom knows Blake, maybe even better than I do still, and I know she's kept Dad filled in along the way. But Dad still hasn't actually met the man I'm planning to marry-- and neither has anyone else in the family.

  Introducing my fiance to my family isn't what has my stomach in knots and my mind in a fog, though.

  Blake and I discussed how we were going to deal with the "how did you meet" questions and pretty much everyone on both sides of our families already know the truth.

  Kelly's question echoes in my mind, bringing all my insecurities back up and reminding me of what's really stressing me out.

  No. The problem is that I keep calling him my "fiance" but I still don't have a ring on my finger.

  Blake

  This is so much harder than I thought it would be.

  I'd planned to put this ring on Courtney's finger before I kissed her goodbye that very first weekend we met.

  Somehow I never got around to it.

  Not that weekend when I was too busy falling in love with her to remember to officially propose to her, not the next time we saw each other, not when she flew out here to see my place and meet my folks.

  Almost 3 months have gone by and the damn thing is still riding around in my pocket.

  Courtney and I have talked about what we'll say when people ask how we met. We've discussed where we're going to live, how long it'll take to make that happen, and what she wants to do to my kitchen once she gets settled in. We've talked about kids and schools and whether we should buy a new car once we start our family or if we should find an old wagon that I can restore.

  My fingers caress the smooth velvet box in my pocket absently.

  I pulled it out of my carry-on bag when we landed, considering surprising her with an impromptu proposal when she got off the plane.

  I had the whole scene in my head during my flight: the way I'd feel when I saw her in the crowd of people flooding the airport when her plane debarks, the way her eyes would light up when she saw me standing there, the way everyone would stand still and wait for her to answer me when I dropped to one knee in front of her.

  As soon as I saw her, my stomach did break out in butterflies. Her face did light up when she saw me standing there with the bouquet of flowers from one of the over-priced airport shops. But somehow, we ended up getting carried along with the crowd of holiday travelers as we all rushed to baggage claim so we can all get to our respective homes and families without any further delays.

  Including waiting for some yahoo to propose to his girlfriend in the middle of the airport.

  Instead, I decided to stick to my original plan.

  My fingers brush the bare spot where I've rubbed all the velvet off on one corner of the little box in my pocket, reminding me that I've carried it with me on far too many of our dates and that I've let even more opportun
ities slip through my fingers just so I could do this right.

  "Ready?" Courtney asks me as we load our luggage into the back of the rented SUV.

  No, I think but don't say. Instead, I give her a big grin and insist that now is as good as any time to meet her entire family.

  "Relax," Courtney laughs as she waits for me to buckle into the passenger seat, "I've been driving since I was 12."

  That makes me laugh and it actually does help me relax a little.

  "I'm secure in my masculinity," I joke, "I'm perfectly comfortable being driven by a woman."

  Courtney slaps my thigh and laughs at me. Then she leans over and kisses me before slipping the car in gear and driving us out of the rental car company's lot.

  "Everyone already loves you, Sweetie," she tells me as she knits her fingers through mine while she drives with the other hand, "you're going to fit right in."

  I squeeze her hand lightly and enjoy the feel of it in mine.

  She knows me so well already, it's like we've known each other a lot longer than just a few weeks of long distance relationship.

  I can't wait to make this woman my wife, to pack up her place in the city and move her into my house, to fill her with babies and turn my place into a home for our family.

  It's about an hour and half drive to get to Courtney's parents' place. She pulls into the drive way of a modest house on a tree-lined street in the kind of neighborhood that people only grow up in on TV.

  A couple of kids are out front, making a mess out of what's left of the autumn leaves that probably started off neatly raked into piles around the trunks of a couple of trees in the yard.

  They stop what they're doing and swarm the car as soon as they see who just arrived.

  "Oh," Courtney shuts down the car and turns to me with a worried expression on her face before she opens the door to the kids outside, "this part might be painful though."

  She means the kids. Her head jerks just slightly toward the smiling faces waiting for the door to open.

  "I can't vouch for the monster brigade, they might tear you apart. Tread cautiously," she warns with a huge grin on her beautiful face.

  Courtney's smile always takes my breath away. I can't forget that first time I saw her, how wrong my first impression of her was, with all that makeup on making her look like a fashion model in one of those women's magazines that reek of perfume.

  It turns out, she's as down home a girl as I could have ever wanted. Most days, she wears her makeup natural, letting her natural beauty take center stage.

  Today she's left her makeup in her luggage, her short hair is pulled back in the shortest pony tail I've ever seen, and she's looking like a million dollars in her jeans and sweater.

  With that grin on her face as she opens the car door and throws me to the wolves waiting outside, all I can think of is getting her alone later.

  "Don't hurt him!" I hear Courtney call after the kids as they whisk me away toward the back yard, excitedly introducing themselves and asking me a million questions about myself and what I'm doing here with their favorite aunt slash cousin slash whatever Court is to them.

  "You must be Blake!" Some guy grabs my hand in a firm shake and pulls me shoulder to shoulder for a quick bro hug before slapping me on the arm.

  "Mom won't shut up about you, man," he tells me as he releases my hand and continues toward the front yard as an 8 year old tugs impatiently on my hand, "I'll catch up with you later, looks like you have more important things to do right now," the guy tells me with a nod at the kid.

  I let myself get dragged into the back yard where the younger generation of Courtney's family has taken over an old garden shed that's been cleared out and made into a makeshift play house and willingly accept the plastic tea cup that a little girl hands me as she dubs me "Mr. Neighbor."

  The kids seem to have accepted me into the clan without hesitation. Before I know it I'm wearing a feather boa and giving piggy back rides to what seems like an endless supply of 5 and 6 year olds.

  It reminds me of the holidays with my own family and I forget all about being nervous to meet the rest of the clan while I let myself be used as a human jungle gym until we hear a woman's familiar voice calling us in for dinner.

  There are a lot of future in-laws to meet this weekend, but only one of them has the power to send all my plans crashing to the ground.

  I scoop little Miss Kendra up in my arms, pretty sure there's a 4 year old hiding somewhere inside all that poofy princess dress and glitter crown, and follow the sound of Mrs. B's voice back to the house.

  Courtney

  I lost Blake as soon as we got here. The kids took off with him and before I could chase after them, Austin was helping me with the luggage. The rest of the day has been spent between the kitchen helping Mom with tonight's dinner while she prepares for tomorrow's big meal, and helping Shannon chase a surprisingly fast toddler around a not-entirely baby-proof house.

  "So I can't help but notice..." Mom's voice trails off with a raised eyebrow in the direction of my left hand as I cut potatoes into chunks to boil for the mashed potatoes tomorrow.

  We've been talking about Shannon and Austin's plans to move their wedding date since they found out they're expecting a new baby of their own, how big Kelsey has gotten since last year, about Mom's attempts to get Dad to lose 20 pounds, and about my timeline for quitting my job in the city and getting my apartment packed up.

  I'd kinda hoped she wasn't going to mention the obvious.

  "Is everything still going OK?" Mom asks when she watches my facial expression, which betrays my insecurities more than I'd like.

  "I think so," I say, "everything is great, he just hasn't actually asked me yet."

  "Well have you talked to him about that?" Mom asks nonchalantly as she takes the chopped potatoes from me, "you know, the way you two did this is pretty unconventional, maybe he doesn't realize you're expecting it?"

  Leave it to Mom to make it all sound like no big deal.

  She seems unconcerned about the lack of bling on my finger and for some reason that makes me feel better.

  Mom was instrumental in finding my Mr. Right for me and she probably knows Blake even better than I do still. If she's not worried about it, I'm not either.

  * * *

  "You should have called me, I'd have come rescue you."

  I hadn't realized Blake had been stuck in the playhouse with the kids all day and now that he fills me in on his big adventure I feel bad for abandoning him.

  "It was fun, I didn't even realize it had been so long," he tells me with a grin that tells me he really didn't mind.

  "That's why I love you," I tell him with a kiss as we get ready for bed.

  "Wait till you meet my clan," he says, "you think this is chaos? You've got nothing on the McAllistar brood."

  "I can't wait," I say.

  Blake climbs into bed beside me and pulls me into his arms.

  "Blake," I whisper, "it's my parent's house."

  My protest is only half-hearted as his hands start to roam.

  "Besides, aren't you cheating on your new girlfriend?" I giggle as I push him away weakly.

  "It's true, you do have competition," he tells me playfully between the little nibbles he's placing along my neck.

  I've been teasing him since dinner about Kendra's crush on him. She didn't let him out of her sight all evening and she was truly not impressed with sharing Blake's attention with me.

  Kendra disappeared with Blake again as soon as he let her drag him away from helping me and Shannon clear the table after dinner. I've barely had any time with him since we got here and it turns out, by the time my niece finally crashed out and I got my man back, Blake had met everyone already.

  Of course, Blake has been a hit with everyone, but Mom isn't the only person who's noticed that I keep referring to him as my "fiance" despite a distinct lack of bling on my finger.

  Explaining the situation to my soon-to-be sister-in-law-- and her highly unmistaka
ble ring-- only served to bring it back to the forefront of my mind.

  Blake is great, I know he loves me and that he plans to marry me, but I'd wanted to be married by the end of the year and I'm not even engaged yet.

  "Babe," I try to turn his attention away from my breasts and start a conversation, "you know Shannon and Aus--"

  A playful nip against the button on my night shirt let's me know he'd prefer the thing wasn't in his way.

  I consider standing my ground and insisting on talking about our engagement-- or lack thereof.

  Blake's hand moves up my thigh and his thumb finds the sweet spot that convinces me that anything else I was planning on saying can wait.

  Maybe Mom's right? Maybe Blake doesn't realize that I still want the official proposal? A real engagement ring? Maybe I need to sit down with him and explain that just because we met in a non-traditional way doesn't mean I don't want a traditional engagement?

  Tomorrow...Blake's hand moves with more purpose and I melt into the sheets, trying not to moan too loudly...I'll make sure to find some time to get him alone and tell him all this tomorrow.

  Blake

  "Hey Mr. Barnes," I say as I approach Courtney's dad when I finally find him out in his workshop at the far end of the back yard, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Courtney's dad leans to one side and peers around the wooden rocking horse on the work table that's blocking his view.

  His glasses are perched on the end of his nose and he squints at me as he looks over the gold wire rims.

  I'm not sure he looks pleased to me and I hope that's just because he wasn't expecting the interruption and not because the interruption happens to be me.

  "Blake?" Mr. Barnes's voice echoes in the quiet shop filled with wood working tools and projects in various states of completion, "What can I do for you?"

  Following the sound of his voice till I find my way to where he's standing at his work table with a piece of worn sandpaper in his hand, watching me approach with a look on his face that makes me nervous as fuck, I finally stop a few feet away and clear my throat.