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“And here I thought I’d heard it all about your family’s rules.” I chuckle.
“Oh no, it’s never-ending, I promise you.”
“And what about Ryan? Why does he like Chad?”
Gina rolls her eyes, “Ryan is just...relieved.”
“What?”
Gina takes a deep breath before explaining, “I’m like a bad boy magnet okay; If there’s one within a ten-mile radius they’ll somehow find their way to me, I swear. Over time, Ryan’s had to deal with so many stalkers and crazies in my life that by the time Chad came along, Ryan was so relieved. He can’t wait to marry me off to him.”
“Oh, I get it now.”
“So, what do you think of Chad?” Gina presses.
I shrug, “Well, I think he’s a decent guy. He’s not hard on the eyes and worships the ground you walk on. He’s a lawyer too so you have that in common. But like I said, what really matters is what you think, Gina.”
She sighs, “He’s just a bit too boring.”
She sounds just like Bonnie. Like me too– a lifetime ago. “Is that why you feel the constant need to push him, to create drama?”
“Stella!” Gina exclaims with a mix of mock outrage and guilt of someone caught in a ruse.
“Wasn’t he the same guy who debauched you in the Fairchild gardens? How is that boring?”
“Debauched? Really, what are you, eighty?” Gina retorts, her tone light.
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I used that word. I blame Ryan. But honestly, it takes guts to make a move like that, especially at your parents’ place.”
“I think I pushed him past breaking point. That was the only time he’s ever lost control,” Gina reflects, a hint of pride in her voice, “otherwise, he might as well be made of stone.”
“Gina, that man I met at last week’s Thanksgiving dinner is head over heels for you.”
She gasps as if suddenly remembering something. “Speaking of Thanksgiving dinner... You and Ryan are something else,” Gina levels me with a knowing look.
“What do you mean?”
“You guys are just so shameless. Seriously? Spilling wine on your dress and then he ‘helps’ you clean it up? Classic move.”
“That was an accident,” I protest, feeling my cheeks warm. Who in their right mind would have sex in their parents’ house in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner?
Gina grins, “I think you’re perfect for him though. I’ve never seen Ryan like this with anyone, not even Ivy. You two just click, like a well-oiled machine.”
I pause in the middle of applying my glossy nude lipstick the moment she mentions that name.
“Ivy?” The name triggers a vague memory. The well-worn PJ top Ryan suddenly took off mid-conversation. The identical barely-worn gray top I saw hanging by itself in his closet the day I went snooping. The one that only had ‘Ivy League’ inscribed on it.
Gina hesitates, realizing she’s slipped. “You don’t know about her?”
Taking a shot in the dark, I venture, “League?”
Gina nods, obviously relieved that I know. “Yes, the Leagues are like the Tsars of coffee. They’re the producer of the Medal series.”
Oh shit. Ivy League is a person. No wonder he acted weird that morning when I read out the inscription on his PJ.
“I see.” I continue with my makeup, trying for casual. A part of me itches to change to subject, yet I can’t resist wanting the rest of the story.
There’s a pause, heavy with unspoken regret on Gina’s part.
