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Donny’s future in-laws.
Rory and I aren’t there yet.
Are we?
I’m twenty-four years old.I’mnot there yet.
Only then do I notice Rory’s wineglass.
It’s still full. She raised her glass and clinked with the rest of us, but she must have only pretended to take a drink.
Tension flows through my body, but I try to relax. What if sheispregnant? Is it the worst thing in the world?
No. I love this woman.
And if I ever have children, I want her to be their mother.
God, this is crazy thinking coming from me.
But I mean it. I mean it with all my heart.
Rory seems focused on Donny and Callie at the moment, for which I’m grateful. The wordweddingfloats around. I squeeze Rory’s thigh again. My touch seems to relax her.
It relaxes me as well.
After dinner, I find myself outside on the Pikes’ small redwood deck, enjoying a brandy and a cigar with Donny and Frank. Rather, I’m enjoying the brandy, but I hate cigars.
“How do you like your cigar cut?” Frank asks me.
Since I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about, I say, “However you do yours is fine.”
He snips off the end of the cigar with some kind of blade and hands it to me. I light it, take a puff, taking care that no smoke goes anywhere near my throat or I’ll choke up my guts. I take a sip of my brandy.
“It’s great to have you two here,” Frank says. “I know Maureen is tickled.”
“We’re happy to be here, Frank,” Donny says.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Of course.”
“Brock, don’t let Maureen scare you away. We know you and Rory are just at the beginning of your relationship. No one is expecting anything.”
An odd comment, to be sure.
“Oh?” I take a shallow draw on the cigar.
“Maureen and Rory,” Frank continues, “they have a…sometimes difficult relationship. In so many ways, they’re very much alike, being the great beauties of the family and all. But in other ways…not so much.”
Rory’s bisexuality. He may as well say the words. They’re clear as day.
“You mean her bisexuality?” I say.
Donny shoots darts at me with his eyes.
But why? Why should we not speak about it? It’s part of who she is, and it’s part of what I love about her.
“Well…a bit,” Frank says. “It doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, I liked Raine Cunningham. I liked her a lot.”
“And Maureen didn’t?” I ask.
