Page 201 of Not Another Yesterday
I look at my watch. “Any second now.”
“Alright, get in the car. I’ll drive,” Ronan says with a sigh.
I giggle at him. “I just kept calling. And eventually, a few weeks ago, I told him the whole story. About you. Why you sold it. What it meant. And, well… I can beverypersuasive.”
“Oh, Iknowhow persuasive you can be,” he says, flashing that mischievous half-smile I love.
“I’m serious. Yesterday, when you thought I was at my parents’ all day? Stevie and I actually drove up to New Hampshire to get it and bring it back. Tada!” I throw my arms out.
“You are fucking amazing, baby.” Ronan scoops me into his arms. “But how in the world did you pay for this?”
“I sold my own car. It wasn’t quite enough to buy your Mustang back—”
“You don’t say.” He grins.
I pretend I didn’t hear that. “—so your dad, Stevie, Shane, and my parents all chipped in,” I say with a huge smile. “I told them that I was sure you’d let me have your RAV4.”
“Done.” Ronan fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them to me. “It’s yours. I’ll sign the title when we get home.”
“Are you happy?” I ask, curling my fingers around his.
“Are you kidding me? Fuck yes, I’m happy. Baby, this isinsane.I don’t deserve y—”
“Nope!” I press my hand over his mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence. You do deserve me. And I deserve you. Got it?”
He smiles against my palm.
“Nod if you understand, Mr. Soult.”
He nods.
I drop my hand and he immediately kisses me again—deep, consuming, perfect.
We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. When he finally tucks the Mustang’s key into his pocket, he reaches for my hand again.
“Let’s go,” he says softly, lacing our fingers together.
We head back inside to join our families, where everyone is eagerly waiting to hear Ronan’s reaction to the most epic Christmas present he’s ever gotten.
Ronan
Cat has absolutely outdone herself.
I can’t believe my eyes when I open the garage door and find my Mustang—myMustang—parked there like it never left. Pristine. Perfect. I take one look at it and immediately know: she pulled off something major. And when I find out she sold her car, and then hustled not only my dad, my brother, and Shane, but got her parents to pitch in, too? I mean, I know I’m not supposed to say it out loud, but nobody can stop me from thinking—until the end of my days—that Cat isway too damn good for me.
Naturally, I handed her the keys to the RAV4 the second she told me.
Cat tells me about her little mission yesterday, how she enlisted my big brother’s help. She and Steve drove all the way to New Hampshire, picked up the car, and drove it back home to park it in my dad’s garage.
“The guy you sold it to hadn’t even driven it,” Steve chimes in. “He was a collector, Ran. Just kept it in a giant garage like some museum piece.”
I couldn’t have wished for better news. My Mustang is in almost exactly the same condition I sold it in—nochanges, no damage, just a little over 600 miles more on my odometer, clean, cared for, and waiting for me. Waiting forherto bring it home.
Cat and I spend much of the day hanging out in the living room, chatting with Steve, entertaining my brothers and Cat’s siblings. But my attention keeps drifting. My eyes keep finding Cat. I don’t know how to describe what’s happening inside me other than this: I’m completely overwhelmed by her. Always have been.
When she disappears into the kitchen to help her mom and take over for Penny, who had to bolt to the bathroom yet again, I go to help set the table for dinner. Something’s stirring inside me. I need something to do or I might combust from whatever is rattling around in my chest.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all gathered around the table, passing plates of food. Again, my thoughts drift. When Penny suggests my dad say something before we dig into the food, I stop him just as he’s about to open his mouth to talk.
