Page 114 of Play Pretend

“I’dneverdo something like that,” I teased. He tapped my ass as I passed him, and I yelped.“Oh, and talk to my babies while you water them.”

His laughter followed me into the kitchen, and as I pulled the fridge open to start dinner, I felt my usual doubt creep up inside me. But then I looked at the bags, at the cat tree, at the bowls on the floor, and pushed those voices away. I wasn’t bracing myself for the other shoe to drop or for things to crumble.

Ronan was everything he promised to be and more. And tonight, he proved that. Heshowedme he was in this, and his actions soared over all the pretty words and broken promises I’d heard over the years.

He was unlike anyone I’d ever met, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t scared of him leaving.

willow

Iwrung my hands together as we made our way up the walkway to Ronan’s childhood home. There was a massive oval window in the white front door, golden light seeping from it. Shadows danced across the glass, and I dug my feet into the concrete, forcing us to stop.

“How many people are in there?” I asked, my voice shaky and quiet. I hadn’t thought this through. When I’d agreed to meet his mom, I’d expectedjusther. Maybe Trinity, too. But there were more than just two people in that house, and I was starting to freak out.

Okay, actually, I’d started freaking out about an hour ago when I was trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. Ronan was in jeans and a black T-shirt, looking stupidly handsome as always, and I settled on a blue baby doll dress with knee-high cowboy boots. Which I was now regretting because I’d never worn these boots before, and I already felt blisters forming.

“I think it’s just Trin, Brynne, and Mom,” he said. My bottom lip slid between my teeth. “It’ll be alright, shortcake. My mom is gonna love you.” He gently tugged my lip out and smoothed his thumb over the teeth marks.

“And you’re sure that’s all the stuff she likes from the bakery?” I asked, gesturing to the basket he held, and he nodded. Gracie and I spent all afternoon baking everything for her, making sure it was perfect.

“I’m positive.” He laced our fingers together and gently squeezed. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath, my lungs aching with it. No, I wasn’t ready, but I had to be. I nodded and we made our way to the door. Ronan pushed it open, and the warmth of the house hit me first, followed by the savory scent of something cooking.

The ceilings were high, photos lined the white walls, and a mirror sat above a small bench. Shoes sat beside it in a messy pile, likely from Trinity, and her purse was on top of them, like she’d walked in and just dropped it.

It felt safe and warm. Like stepping into ahome, not just a house. I moved closer to the photos and grinned when I saw one of Ronan in high school. He was no older than fifteen, kneeling on the football field with his helmet clutched under his arm. He was so gangly and awkward, but there was that same softness in his eye I’d come to know and—love.

My heart surged into my throat as those four letters snaked their way into my mind and took root. Roughly, I cleared my too-dry throat and forced them away.

“I didn’t know you played football,” I rasped, trying to cling to anything other thanthatword, and he snorted.

“I warmed the bench,” he muttered, stepping behind me. He rested his hand on my hip and stroked his thumb back and forth. “This is my dad.” He pointed to a photo of a much younger version of himself standing beside a middle-aged man. They looked exactly the same, like his father had copy and pasted himself. But then I looked at the rest of the photos of him and his brothers and realized that all the Caldwell boys looked identical to their father.

“What was he like?” I asked. Voices and laughter carried to us, but Ronan wasn’t in any hurry. He just scanned the photos with a soft smile on his face.

“Loud,” he laughed. “He could talk to a brick wall and become best friends with it. He was hilarious, too. Could make anyone laugh at the most inappropriate times.” He chuckled to himself, and I smiled as I turned to look up at him. “At my grandma’s funeral, he got up to speak. My mom was begging him to just sit down, but of course he didn’t. Instead, he got up there, and in front of a room of crying people, he made them all forget they were sad. I wish I was like that—he was a really good man.”

I rested my hand on Ronan’s chest. “You’rea good man, Ro. He’d be proud of you.”

Ronan’s eyes met mine, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “Thanks, baby.” His chest rose as he took a deep breath. “I think everyone is in the kitchen.”

It was enough of an invitation, and I nodded. We walked deeper into the house, and I took it all in. It was decorated in the usual coastal vibe I’d found almost everyone had in their homes here. Multi-colored pastel rugs lined the light hardwood floors as we walked down the hallway. It opened into a large living room with a cream-colored leather sectional, with a massive seafoam green rug beneath. A TV with a muted football game playing hung above the fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows sat on either side of it, covered in willowy white curtains.

Someone screamed from deeper in the house, and I jolted at the sound. Ronan tried to keep his pace slow and at my side, but I could feel the excitement rippling off him. He wasexcitedto see his family; he wasn’t dreading it.

What was that like?

Not everyone had family like I did—they didn’t make them miserable or dread every visit with them. Ronan seemed to genuinely love his family. He washappyaround them—thatmuch was obvious from the amount of time he spent with his little sister.

My hand tightened around his as we walked through the archway into the kitchen. Trinity and Brynne sat at the island on barstools. A man I faintly recognized as one of Ronan’s brothers stood in the corner with a drink in his hand, and an older woman with graying blonde hair pulled a roasted chicken from the oven.

“Willow!” Trinity shouted, leaping off the stool and racing for me. I was too stunned to move, so I just stood there as she threw her arms around me. “How are you doing? How’s your new kitty? Did you bring him?”

“He’s still at the vet,” Ronan grumbled. “I told you that.” He turned his attention to his brother, grinning. “What are you doing here?”

“Trent lent me his private jet for the weekend,” he said, grinning. He shoved off the counter and made his way across the kitchen.

“You’re such a tool,” Ronan laughed. They did one of those bro-hugs that only men did before he turned toward me.

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