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“Hey,” my cousin says in a low tone. “We have to talk.”
“No, you don’t. I can explain. As a former PR specialist, I offered to help Ryan out?—”
Ryan glances at my father to his left and his best friend to his right. “No, we have to talk. Mr. Owens, Brandon.” He tips his head toward the garage and they all march in that direction. Even Uncle Eddie joins them.
My sisters flock toward me and ask a dozen questions before I’m able to explain what just happened. “Remember the game? We just upped the ante.”
“You upped something because I was afraid those four were going to come back with black eyes and split lips. Instead, they’re smiling like old bros,” Harper points.
To my shock, she’s right.
Yet, Ryan is still breathing, and no one has blood on their hands.
“Everything okay?” I ask while Luke rests his head on my shoulder and twirls a piece of my hair.
“Everything is a-glazing,” Brando says.
I narrow my eyes with suspicion.
The corner of my dad’s mouth lifts with a smile. “Congratulations are in order.” He gives me a hug and Luke wiggles into his grandpa’s arms. Those two are best friends.
Desperate to find out what Ryan said to them, I try to get him alone to ask, but the rest of the day is like an engagement party with everyone hanging out, playing games in the yard, and swimming down at the beach. Ryan and the kids build a giant sandcastle. Luke loves splashing in the water while secure in my arms. There are fierce rounds of corn hole, we search for seashells, and eventually, a football appears and Harper and Heather’s husbands are like two kids on Christmas morning. They all hit it off and I hardly see Ryan until the children prowl around for dinner.
“It’s been such a fun day, why don’t you stay and eat with us, Ryan?” Harper asks.
I try to give her a sisterly look because she didn’t consult me. It’s not that I want him to leave. Quite the opposite, but between our impromptu dough-posal this morning and his subsequent conversation with my father, I want to know why everything seems so, well, normal.
“We’re testing a few new recipes for the restaurant,” Harper adds.
Ryan glances at me as if checking in.
“The more the merrier,” I say.
If anyone thinks that was a strange response coming from me, the sassy brat, they don’t say anything. The thing is, my family loves Ryan. The kids, the guys, everyone. It was only ever me that had a problem and that was spotty at best. It was a love-hate kind of situation.
Ryan was right. As glazy as we drove each other, I’ve always been dough-nuts about him.
But there’s still one adorable matter. All day, I’ve been taking care of Luke, my son, but haven’t officially introduced Ryan to him. I haven’t mentioned that I’m his mom. Ryan chats with theguys as they clean up the grill and corral a pint-sized cleanup crew outside with the promise of sparklers if they do a good job.
While inside, changing Luke’s diaper, I whisper, “That’s you someday, Lukey-boy. Before long you’ll be running around with the big kids.” He coos and gurgles and repeatedly shouts, “Ma, Ma, Ma.”
I’m proud to say those were his first words. Setting him down, I let him cruise around the room, gripping the edge of the bed and a low table to help him stand up. My sisters keep stats about when their children started walking and speculate about when Luke will take his first steps. Heather says soon. Harper places her bets on after his first birthday, which is in less than a month.
The floor creaks behind me and I sense the approaching footsteps belong to the biggest guy in the house.
“I’m grateful you helped me handle this PR mess. But I’m glad I spent the day with you and your family, completely ignoring it all.”
“Remember, I’m just a waitress now,” I say.
“We both know you’re much more than that,” Ryan says.
It’s time to tell him the whole truth, which will make things extra complicated.
His phone buzzes, interrupting. Glancing at it, he says, “The headlines read,McGregor Moved On to Sunnier Shores,The Bachelor Party Bolt Leads to Dough-nuts Proposal. Ah, here’s another,McGregor on the Move, but Not on the Field.” Lifting his gaze to me, he says, “But is He Ready to Quit Playing the Field?”
I search his face, but his eyes are glued to Luke. “Does he usually do that?”
Spinning around, my heart hammers with worry.
