When did we all grow up?
“It was really good to see you again, Ryan,” says Jake, and what the hell?!
Given all that I’ve told him about Ryan over the years, he should not think it’s really good to see the man.
“Is it, though?” I ask with narrowed eyes, wondering if maybe Jake is just stalling while one of his friends TPs Ryan’s car outside. Is it wrong that I kinda hope for that?
Jake grins. “Of course. Anytime another guy helps protect my little sister, he earns my respect for life.”
I look between Ryan and Jake, wondering what I’m missing. “Protect?”
Jake gives Ryan a conspiratorial look. “I’ll let you tell her. I’ve gotta get going.” He kisses Sam, pats Daisy’s head, and then leaves.
I turn to Ryan with my hands on my hips. He doesn’t look intimidated (of course), so I tell Sam to do it too. Now he should be terrified. Ryan has two Broaden girls standing in the Wonder Woman pose, and we mean business.
He looks at Sam, and I can see the moment his chocolate eyes hypnotize my preteen niece. “Your aunt is ridiculous. You know that, right?”
Sam’s arms fall at her sides, and she smiles sheepishly from below her lashes. “Yeah. She’s pretty silly a lot,” says the little traitor, who will never get to borrow my pink lipstick again. And good luck having me cover for you when you’re sixteen and out late with a boy! No more cool Aunt June for you, missy.
I pick up a pillow and throw it at Ryan’s head. “Tell me what you did.”
He laughs, dodging my attack. “Let’s just say on your sixteenth birthday when your boyfriend’s tires mysteriously deflated, it wasn’t so mysterious to me.”
“I knew you did that! Especially after you were the one to show up out of nowhere and so kindly offer me a ride home, but you made Isaac stay and wait for the tow truck!”
“It wasn’t just me. Jake helped.”
“What?” Tension is growing in my shoulders. “Why?”
“Earlier that day, I overheard Isaac and his buddies in the locker room. They had all placed a bet on whether he could…” He pauses and looks down at Sam, who is hanging on Ryan’s every word like he’s giving the exact directions to Shawn Mendes’s personal residence. Ryan looks back up at me and adjusts whatever he was going to say. “Well, they bet on whether he could deflower you that night.”
My jaw drops, and thankfully, Sam is oblivious. “Why would your boyfriend want to take your flowers?”
Ryan smiles, and his dimple tells me he thinks Sam is adorable. “Some not nice guys really like to take girls’ flowers.”
“That sounds so mean.”
“It is. Stay away from those guys,” says Ryan, tousling the top of Sam’s hair. Heart emojis fill her eyes. She’s dropping into full-blown crush mode.
I stare at Ryan, and he must see the panic building in me, because he asks Sam to go into the kitchen and wash her hands because he’s going to show her how to properly cut a potato. She better get the same boring lesson I got.
“How did Jake come into play in all this?” I ask the second Sam turns the corner into the kitchen.
“I told him as soon as I found out. His suggestion was that we go beat the hell out of Isaac, but I convinced him to help me slash his tires instead so I could take you home before anything happened. Figured it would be less embarrassing for you than your brother beating up your first real boyfriend. And you broke up with him shortly after, so it all worked out.”
Mm-hmm, yeah, he’s just talking and going on and on like my perception of him isn’t suddenly turning on its end. I need to go lie down. There have been too many revelations today.
I fix my gaze on Ryan, and I take in his strong jaw, dark eyes, long lashes, and the small scar on the apple of his cheek from the pop fly that almost broke his cheekbone sophomore year. I trace a line from his straight nose to his lips and scruffy jawline (yet another sign that he’s no longer the boy from high school). I’m taking in every inch of his face because I feel like I’m finally seeing him for who he really is—seeing him—the whole picture of Ryan for the first time.
“What?” he finally asks, a cautious look on his face.
I smile and shake my head. “You never were the bad guy, were you?”
The air shifts when a mischievous glint sparks in Ryan’s eyes. I stay still as he crosses the room, stops in front of me, and leans toward my ear. I’m bracing for him to tell me I have toilet paper sticking out of somewhere it shouldn’t be when I feel his hot lips land on the area just behind my jaw, below my ear. Chill bumps roll down my arms.
And then he whispers, “I was definitely the bad guy. I just wasn’t against you like you thought.”
—
I feel Ryan’s lips on my skin for the rest of the day and on into the night. Like he left a tattoo on my skin. It’s there, tingling and reminding me that everything has changed.
During the rehearsal, I keep my distance from Ryan. But he looks amazing in his black suit pants and button-down linen shirt, so my eyes continuously seek him out from across the room. Every time we make eye contact, I instinctively touch the spot on my neck that I have vowed to never wash again. I’m going to wrap it in caution tape just so no one ever taints that patch of skin again. I’ve christened it as Ryan’s.
My stomach does barrel rolls when it’s time for me to take Ryan’s arm and practice walking down the aisle together. He covers my hand where it’s resting on his arm, and I curse myself a million times for imagining myself wearing a white dress and mouthing na na na, boo boo to every woman who’s ever given Ryan the I’m-all-yours look. You better believe I would invite them to our wedding. I’m a gloater.
Point is, this all feels like a dream where real life is hovering just beyond the edges, ready to overtake me at any moment.
Logan and Stacy practice the vow portion of the ceremony, and Ryan’s gaze is searing into mine. I want him to look away, but he won’t. I widen my eyes in the classic STOP LOOKING AT ME sign, but he just makes a goofy kissy face back at me. I’m so mad at him for making me laugh. For taking a sledgehammer to the cement walls I’d constructed around myself. For making me flush and giggle like a ding-dong in front of this whole wedding party.
After the rehearsal, Ryan tries to make his way to me at every turn, but I avoid, sidestep, and duck behind every potted plant I can find, because the more he makes me smile and blush and tingle, the more terrified I become. I KNOW that whatever Ryan feels for me is fake. Or maybe not fake, but temporary. His life is far away from here, and it’s going to call him back in two days. I just have to resist him for that long.
A heaviness grows over me during dinner, but I refuse to let it show, because this is Stacy’s big night, and I’m determined to make it as wonderful as possible for her. I will keep a smile on my face tonight even if I have to tape the corners of my mouth to my earlobes.
But the only time I genuinely laugh the entire night is when Stacy makes Ryan stand up during dinner. “Attention, everyone! Can we all give a round of applause for having our very own Michelin chef, Ryan Henderson, make all this delicious food for us tonight?”
Ryan’s face turns blood red, and I know that he’s dying inside at having his name associated with green beans and mashed potatoes. I snap a quick picture, because this is probably the only time I’ll ever see him embarrassed. Maybe I’ll have the photo enlarged and printed. It will hang over my mantel, and it won’t be creepy at all.
FINALLY, the night is over, and everyone begins to leave. I stand from the table and kiss Stacy’s glowing cheek, forcing myself to not focus on how much losing her is going to hurt.
