Page 55 of Love You Too

“I had no idea you were such a hockey fanboy. When did this happen?”

“I like sports in general, you know that.”

“Yeah, but this is next level.” I wave to Ren, who’s coming our way from across the room.

Archer shrugs. “We all have our things.”

“Ha. I’d say you have more than one.” I’m thinking of his type A personality and his obsession with running, to name two. But I’m liking this side of my brother. Seeing him relaxed and enjoying the scene gives me a window into what Ren must see when I let my guard down and mess around with him.

Ren kisses me hard and wraps me in his arms. He doesn’t seem to care a bit about my brother sitting two feet away or thepeering eyes in the room. He hums as he backs away from my lips. “Best part of my day.” He keeps me in a tight grip and turns to Archer, who extends his hand to shake.

Ren wraps him in a bear hug, and the tips of my brother’s ears go a healthy shade of pink. “Thanks for coming, man.”

“Great game. You killed it.”

“Ha. Almost got killed, but that’s part of the fun.” Ren sits on a stool at our table, and I get a good look at him for the first time. He rubs at a spot half-hidden by the stubble on his chin, and I notice how swollen it is.

“You took a good one,” Archer says, proudly holding up his beer in a toast.

“Looks painful. Are you okay?” I ask, gently touching the spot. Ren takes my hand and moves it to his lips, kissing it.

I laugh as Archer grimaces. “Get used to it. I’m stuck on this one, so you’re stuck with me.” He says it so casually, so full of the usual Renaldi charm that I allow myself to believe Ren wants to be with me for the long haul. And the longer I sit here, watching his easy banter with my brother and thinking about him spending time with the rest of my family, the more I realize I want that too.

CHAPTER 22

Beatrix

You knowthose things you swore you’d never do again?

Spending time with Ren’s mom is one of those things. The woman didn’t like me back in college, and I can’t imagine things have changed much. She always worried I was a distraction for Ren, threatening his career. If I’m a distraction, I can’t imagine what she’ll think about a baby. Guess I’ll find out.

Ren’s mom is visiting for Thanksgiving weekend, so we’re meeting her for lunch in St. Helena. Seems harmless enough. But I’ve directed the long way around Napa, circling through Calistoga and coming down the other side. It’s at least fifteen minutes out of the way.

My excuse is that I want to take some photos of a farmstand produce place in Calistoga, but when we get there, Ren calls my bluff. “This is just a normal fruit stand, like about a hundred other ones. Why’d we need to come here?”

I mumble a fake answer he won’t hear as I hop out of the car and make a beeline to the persimmon display. They’re the most photogenic thing here, amid onions and blue kale. Still, I keep up appearances and shutterbug my way slowly from one end of the produce stand to the other. When Ren comes up behind me, I pretend to examine a purple onion like it’s a rare amethyst stone inside a giant geode. “So pretty, right?” I ask, unable to look Ren in the eye.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and Ren spins me around like I’m a hockey puck on slippery ice.

“You’re stalling. I know you don’t need pictures of purple onions.” He looks around at the sagging roof and the fading signage haphazardly placed near the wrong boxes of produce. “This place is a dump. Even I have enough of an aesthetic eye to know that.”

I let out a frustrated exhale. “I was hoping to find a dog treat for Truman. I’ll be sure to tell him you said to stop.”

“Something tells me he’ll be just fine after Fiona spoils him all afternoon.”

“Fine.” I stomp back to the car, and he follows.

Safely ensconced in the passenger seat, I’m tempted to lock the doors so he can’t get in and drive us the rest of the way to lunch. But I don’t, if only because he’s holding the car keys in his hand.

When he gets in the car, he picks up my hand and kisses it. I snatch it away and fold my arms.

“Wow, you are really worked up. Is this something that happens whenever you eat a real lunch, or is it just reserved for my mom?”

That earns him a glare. “You’re hilarious.” I push the window button, but he hasn’t turned on the ignition, so nothing happens. “Can you please let some air in here? It’s hot as hades.”

He obliges, and I roll my window all the way down and stick my head out like a dog on a joyride.

“Why do you think she hates you? Are you just saying that so the reality will be better than what you’re expecting?”

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