Page 74 of Easy Reunion
Chapter 30
Rierson
“Am I ever going to be forgiven for not knowing how to cook until I met you?” Kelsey grumbles good-naturedly to Angel. A few weeks after Kelsey gave me the frame, we’re gathered in the Macondos’ backyard for an impromptu barbecue after work. Kelsey’s been working on her newest book while I’m back to my ten-hour days. Typically she meets me at my house when I’m finished. Today, we wrapped early. I threw my entire team out. You could hear the war whoops as I walked up and down the Legal floor to ensure everyone got the message. Once I got back up to my office, I called to see if she could make it over early. Angel screamed through the phone, “Get your fine ass over here for the bestie inquisition, Ry. It’s time! Bring hamburger rolls.”
I laughed as Kelsey shrieked at her best friend before telling them I’d be over in an hour, which would give me time to change out of my suit into something more comfortable.
Kelsey opened the door red-faced. I handed her the bag from Whole Foods before yanking her into my arms for a kiss that lasted until Angel yelled about the burgers burning and, “I’m too damn pregnant to wait for food!”
Now, we’re gathered around the patio table as Kelsey sets down a platter of fixings before taking a seat next to me. “Here you go. Now dig in before you deprive my niece of nutrients,” Kelsey sasses.
Angel shudders before reaching for a bun, burger, and piles of lettuce. Kelsey, I notice, skips the bun. “Not a fan of bread?”
“I can eat more if I forgo the bread. It fills my stomach up too fast. And I know what we’re having for dessert,” she says smugly.
“Is it something decadent?” Darin asks eagerly.
Kelsey laughs. “It will taste that way. Courtesy of that one.” She nods at Angel, who has a hamburger wedged in her mouth like she’s just been gagged with it. “I actually know how to cook delicious and healthy. Everything Nana cooked was fried in both butter and oil. Or glazed in sugar.” Thoughtfully, she forks up a bite of her burger and chews. She swallows before adding with a slightly dreamy look, “I do have to admit, I miss her chocolate pecan pie.”
I glance over at Darin, who shrugs. I bravely open my mouth. “That sounds…”
“Fucking delicious. Do you know what I’d do to have Kelsey’s grandmother cook for me again? Jesus, she came out to visit in California, and I swear, half the basketball team was ready to propose,” Darin grumbles.
I raise a brow before taking a bite of my overloaded burger. “To her grandmother?”
“Hell no, man. To Kelsey. The guys figured they’d get her grandmother as a bonus,” Darin hoots.
I choke.
Kelsey rolls her eyes as she whacks me on the back. Setting down the burger, I loop an arm over her shoulder. “You weren’t interested?” I question her curiously. Surely by then, her self-confidence would have begun to repair itself from the machinations at Forsyth.
Blushing, she darts a look at me before she glares at Angel, who’s hooting louder than the barn owls you can spot in the predawn at City Park. “I had a thing for swimmers,” she mutters.
Angel’s wiping her eyes against her sleeve as she gasps, “Still do, sister.” My hand squeezes her shoulder in reflex at the apparent slip of her best friend’s tongue.
Kelsey narrows her eyes before turning to Darin. “So, Darin, tell me you made your extra-special margaritas since we have company.”
Angel sobers up quickly. “Now that’s just mean. Mean, I say. I’m pregnant for another million years…”
“Four more months,” both Darin and Kelsey correct her in unison. I lean back against the bench seat, amused at the byplay.
“Fine. Four more months. And here you all are talking about Darin’s Miracle Margaritas? That’s just low, sister. Even if I gave you up to your man.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Kelsey exclaims. She’s laughing so hard at her best friend, she’s dropped her utensils.
“Um, for those of us not in the know, what’s a miracle margarita?” I ask, hoping my lawyer skills might help diffuse whatever situation might be brewing.
“It’s a Kool-Aid margarita! Tell me you wouldn’t miss them if you were pregnant,” Angel challenges.
“Now, see that’s where your logic goes completely off the rails, my friend.” Kelsey picks up her water to take a small sip.
“Why’s that?” Angel throws back.
“First, because you’re presuming that Ry loves or hates tequila enough to disguise it enough with Kool-Aid.”
Angel gives Kelsey apshawgesture as if anyone wouldn’t want to drink that sickening-sounding concoction. “And?”
“And second, he’ll never be pregnant, so”—Kelsey shrugs—“there’s no chance he’ll ever feel your pain. Even if he was a tequila savant. Even if he lusted for the taste of green apple and Patrón mixed over ice with sugar…”
