Page 90 of Tight End

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s back in the house, I have to laugh. “And by ‘help’ he means he wants you to put the puzzle together while he mixes up the pieces.”

“Trust me, that’s nothing.” She waves me off and points at Ryan. “This one had me running football drills with him in the backyard. I’ll take a puzzle any day.”

“Oh, fresh meat. I mean, new person.” My dad joins the group, and I really have to fight the urge to face-palm. Hard. He sure has a way with words. “How’s my future son-in-law doing? You ready to kick some Baltimore butt on Sunday?”

“Yes, sir.” Ryan’s grinning ear to ear. My mom is glaring between the both of them, and Ryan’s mom is ...smiling? Either she saw the video of Ryan declaring me his future wife or he mentioned it earlier today. I’m sure she’s in on the joke.

And my dad?

Clearly he’s not allowed on the internet when there is any upcoming family function. Or maybe it’s better if he skips the internet altogether. There’s nothing he needs on there anyway.

“Oh look, myex-husband coming in with the jokes. What a surprise.” My mom’s tone is droll, and if her face doesn’t give away her lack of amusement, her voice sure does.

Of course, my dad couldn’t care in the slightest. He simply shrugs, continuing to grin in her general direction. “It’s not my fault hell has voided your sense of humor. I’m sure you’ll get it back eventually. And it’s not a joke. We’ll be seeing these two walking down the aisle before you know it.”

“Dad,” I whisper-yell. He may think he’s funny, but he’s going to give my mom a coronary.

Thankfully Poppy and Kinsley have joined us, and after introducing themselves and Dad to Ryan’s mom, Poppy hikes a thumb at our parents, her brows in her hairline. “What’s happening here? It feels tense.”

“Nothing to worry about, pumpkin. Satan doesn’t find me funny, but that’s nothing new. Got to go. The grill calls. Nice to meet you, Nicole.” He gives us all a parting wave, humming all the way to the other end of the patio.

Not only is he banned from the internet, but they can’t be at the same function together. It’s been years, but apparently still too soon.

“Did he just refer to me as Satan?” Mom glares after him and Oliver, bless his little heart, comes out at the perfect time with two boxes of puzzles. Yay. Distraction.

“Hey, Ryan.” I nod toward the table where his mom is currently watching all this with an amused look. “How about we put together a puzzle? Seems fun, right?”

He coughs into his hand, slyly covering up a laugh. “Sorry, future wife, I’m going to chat with your dad for a few.”

I’m not amused.

There’s no way I’m not going to hear an earful later. It doesn’t matter if we’re no longer working together, she will find me. She will hunt me down to express her displeasure.

You’re terrible,I mouth before he can turn and walk away.

He shrugs and mouths back,Yeah, but you like me anyway.

He’s right. I don’t like that he’s right, but he is.

FORTY-FOUR

Ryan

If there’sone thing I love, it’s poking the bear, and June’s mom makes it too easy. It’s obvious she doesn’t care for me, as much as she loves my mom. But you know, she’s stuck with me and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she likes me or not.

She can think what she wants about football players, and if she’d rather keep her prejudice than actually get to know me, it’s on her. No sweat off my nuts.

I’m more than happy talking football with June’s dad while the girls chat and Oliver dazzles my mom. And by the sounds of it, he’s peppering her with all sorts of questions too. Everything from her favorite dinosaur, to the number of bedrooms in her house, to her favorite color.

She hasn’t stopped smiling since she got here, and I’m so grateful she’s got not only this moment with Oliver, but several years to come. And you know, if I’m lucky, maybe we can give her a few more grandkids in the future.

“Ryan, if you don’t mind, can you help me carry out someof the sides.” June’s mom’s voice sure as hell carries across the porch, and I barely suppress the cringe.

I know what this is. I may be a football player, but she’ll be surprised to know I have a functional brain. This is the talk. This is where she pretends she needs help in the kitchen to lure me away from the others, to get me alone so she can tell me—likely in detail—why I’m not good enough for her daughter.

Joke’s on her. I know I’m not good enough for her, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her go. She’s mine and I’ll be damned if I give her up.

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