Page 110 of Easy Reunion
Ry pulls back, staring at me for a moment or two before he bursts out laughing. He begins to swing me around in circles in the front of his family’s yard amid the enormous oak trees whose leaves are just starting to change color.
Clutching Ry as tightly as I can, I give thanks for time, strength, perseverance, and miracles. I figure you need all of those to get not only through life, to find love, but to withstand a high school reunion.
All of which we both seem to have done brilliantly.
Lowering me back to my feet, Ry keeps an arm around me. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I think Mom’s going to burst something if she doesn’t get a chance to meet you.”
“Wait!” I exclaim just before Ry starts to pull me toward the house. “There’s something I need to do first.” I let go of his hand and step back. “I figured out the name of the next book,” I declare.
His face softens. “Already? Have you been writing 24/7 since I’ve been gone?”
“Pretty much,” I admit. Unable to break away from the intensity of his gaze after being so long without that powerful connection, I blurt out, “It’s calledCourage. After all, I think it’s time for Pilar to see there’s more than her own pain swirling around her…”
I no sooner get the words out of my mouth before I’m being swept up in Ry’s arms and he’s pressing my back against one of the trees. The hold he has on my neck is firm, ensuring his lips can possess mine as his head descends. Over and over for long minutes, our teeth, our tongues, our souls clash in that kiss. His hands holding my head tighten in my hair, sending sizzling sensations to places that have long been denied his touch.
I whimper when I’m finally let up for air, the world spinning around me where the only thing to make sense to hang on to is Ry. So I do.
“I missed you, sweetheart. I missed your brilliant mind, your generous heart, and your beautiful face.”
And with those words, weeks of wondering and worry disappear. I aim a cocky grin up at him. “Then don’t you think we should go to meet your mother? If I were her, I’d be rating the show you just put on.”
The red color riding Ry’s cheekbones disappears as he begins to shake his head desperately. “No. She wouldn’t. I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake.” His voice is rising.
I lay my finger on his lips and murmur, “If my son brought home a woman, you can damn well believe I’d be doing the same thing.”
Lowering his head, his next words start my heart beating in triple time. “And imagine when it’s our daughter? Forget about it.” Without any indication that he’s just shaken my world to its very foundation, he steps back and holds out his hand. “Come on, love. Let’s introduce you to my mom.”
Twining my fingers in his, I walk alongside him, thinking silently for a few moments before I ask the question, “Where should I tell Nana and Pop-pop to come for Thanksgiving?”
Just as the front door opens to reveal Ry’s mother, who has a beaming smile of welcome on her face, Ry tips my face up to his. “Tell them to come to New Orleans. If they don’t feel up to it, we’ll all”—he nods at his mother to indicate his family as well—“fly to Jacksonville to celebrate a day meant for family.”
“A day to give thanks for all of our blessings,” I add on. I squeeze his hand. “I do that every day.”
“Me too, sweetheart.” Helping me up the stone steps, he presents me to his mother. “Mom, I’d like to introduce you to…”
Ry doesn’t get to say my name before I’m engulfed in a mother’s hug. It’s different than Nana’s and Angel’s mothers, but no less warm and welcoming. “You hug just like him,” I blurt out.
A warm laugh washes over me, “I hope so, Kelsey. I’ve been doing it almost thirty-four years,” Roberta Perrault says warmly. “Welcome to our home.”
And as I’m ushered inside with Ry, I realize that’s exactly what it is. Home.
* * *
“So,Mom, if Kelsey’s grandparents are up to it, Thanksgiving at my house this year?” Ry tosses out casually over dinner.
“Sure, honey. Will it be just the five of us, or is Cade going to show now that he’s finally admitted he’s in love with Lisa?” Roberta asks calmly, the news about her children clearly not surprising her.
I choke on the bite of olive I’ve just swallowed. Two sets of male hands come out to whack me on the back. “I’m okay,” I wheeze out.
Roberta looks on in concern. “Are you sure?”
I flap my hand. “Fine. It’s just I thought she would have told you they moved in together.”
There’s a silence around the table before Pierre bursts out into laughter. “Well, that explains the twenty-seven voicemails she left,” he muses.
“It’s how we got my desk in the loft,” I explain before clamping my hand over my mouth as all the attention focuses on me.
“So, you moved in with him?” Roberta’s face holds dreams of weddings and grandchildren. My eyes dart to Ry, whose expression clearly states,You’re on your own.
