Are you gonna tell me where we’re heading?” she asked after hours in the car. He’d been quiet and she’d allowed him to hang onto his thoughts while she’d read, but finally impatience made her restless.
“Bakersfield.”
She’d seen the road sign for it just a few miles back, and tried to recall the mileage on there. It hadn’t been more than twenty left.
“And what are we gonna find there?”
He gave her a brief smile, and then focused back on the road. “Dinner, I hope.” His voice sounded light, but his features told her a whole different story.
She entwined their fingers and pulled them up to her lips. “What is it? I feel like I need to be prepared.”
Ryan sighed. “When I married you, even before that, I felt like I need to get my life in order. I thought about work, about my occasional nightmares, about life in general. I wanted to do everything right with you, for you. I thought if I had a good life to offer to you, you’d want to stay forever and ever. You’d see I’m good for you. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard—or that there’d be another aspect of my life I’d want to fix, too. I mean, I didn’t know what I was missing until earlier.”
She waited, but when he didn’t continue, she knew he needed a prompt. “What happened earlier, besides me falling asleep because you’re so fluffy and soft?” She winked and he chuckled; exactly the reaction she’d aimed for.
“I called my dad. I haven’t felt the need to talk to him in… six years.”
She’d been wondering about his parents since they’d talked a little more, but because he’d never offered or even mentioned them, she hadn’t wanted to push it.
“Okay.” She figured noncommittal was the best thing to go for.
“It’s…I…we fought a lot. I visited him several years back, but never really wanted to talk to him much because after my mom died he was…he started gambling and just was aggressive. And when I called, most of those talks ended in fights, too. At some point I didn’t bother calling anymore.”
Aimie watched him from the side, wishing she knew what to say. “But when you reached out today, it didn’t end in a fight?” she assured herself and he nodded.
“It ended in limbo. He didn’t ask for forgiveness, and I didn’t offer it. He said he sent me letters. I wonder what was in them. I wonder what changed. He sounded like the man I remembered from before my mother lost her life in a car accident.”
A car accident, so the death had been sudden, probably harder on his father than an expected death would’ve been.
Then again, when was the death of a person you loved ever easy?
“Well,” she finally said, “I cannot wait to meet him.”
And it was true. The way he spoke about his father made her think his dad had a lot to do with the person he was—devoted, driven, lonely.
“Good, because we’re here.”
She’d not even realized they had reached a city, and even less that he’d parked the car. Reaching for the door handle, she realized Ryan wasn’t moving. Turning back to him, she drew his facer closer, resting her forehead against his.
“I’m here, Ryan, and no matter what’s coming, we’re going to do this together.”
“I know.” He sighed heavily then got out of the car, not reaching for the bag they’d brought.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Taking his side, she pushed her hand into his.
“Last time I was here it looked a lot more rundown. The color faded and dirtied over time, and the windows were grimy. I cleaned the first few times I was here, but stopped the last few times. I…this is…the garden was overgrown. He fixed it. He fixed it all. And the house got a new coat of paint.” He stared and shook his head while she looked at the single-story house, the garden filled with flowers that, although lined with weeds, were kept in a straight line. The roof seemed to have been replaced too, the shingles shining. The front door was dark wood and suddenly swung open.
Ryan looked like his father, except the older man had graying hair making his dark eyes stand out even more.
“He gained weight. He looks good,” Ryan muttered, frozen to the spot. She nudged him, wanting him to go forward, but he didn’t. Instead he stared so Aimie took a deep breath, and then crossed the space between her and Ryan’s father.
“I’m Aimie Jennison…I mean…” She blushed.
The corner of Mr. Spencer’s mouth lifted. “Aimie Spencer, I’m Landon Spencer, your father-in-law. I’m very happy to meet you.” He reached out and shook her hand, his grip soft yet firm.
His eyes went past her to his son. “She’s beautiful, Ryan. Good choice.”
That seemed to propel Ryan forward and he wrapped her in his arms, drawing her to his side. “She is. Hey Dad. I hope it’s okay we’re here.” She wondered if they’d spoken about it before, but Landon Spencer just smiled.
“It’s more than okay. We have a lot to talk about, but before we do that, let’s get inside and have food. I made your teenage favorite…your mom’s lasagna.”
Aimie smirked, hiding it by lowering her head. She loved lasagna; they were off to a great start.
* * *
More times than not, Ryan had nothing to say when having dinner with his father. Aimie filled the silence, talking about her books, about the inspiration she’d found in the Monterey cafés and even the hospital, and about how she tried hard to have Ryan home more often.
His father was enraptured by her. There was no doubt. He smiled throughout the whole talk, his demeanor relaxed and so much more in control than Ryan remembered him.
“Okay, since we’re done, how about I go and do the washing up while you two talk?” Aimie offered, her blue eyes imploring.
“Let me help you carry the dishes out,” Ryan offered, jumping up. He needed a second with her, to hopefully have her help him overcome his speechlessness.
Landon Spencer was the way Ryan had always wanted his father to be.
“Stay, I’ll get it. And I have a dishwasher. I’ll be right back and you better kiss your pretty wife. She can’t stop glancing at your mouth,” his father announced and then got up, carrying his plates away.
“I’m staring at your mouth because you need to speak,” Aimie muttered the moment the other man was out of earshot and Ryan chuckled, then turned serious.
“I feel like I landed in a parallel universe, and I just don’t know…how do you get over six years of no-contact and years of fights?”
She placed her hand on his, leaning in. “You listen to apologies and see if maybe you can find forgiveness in your heart. Or maybe you realize there’s nothing to forgive, but just things to forget.”
“What if I can’t? What if nothing he says will—”
“What if you have faith? You drove three hours out here to see him. You’re already on your way to forgiveness. And you wanted this, remember? Wanted to fix everything, so let’s do it.”
He closed his eyes, nodding briefly when his father returned, sitting down at the table and placing a bowl of chocolate mousse in front of them.
“You two eat, and I talk,” he ordered and Ryan arched a brow.
“I’d rather just listen.”
He saw Aimie reach out from the corner of his eye and then he focused back on his father.
“I was an alcoholic. It started probably around the time you were last at my place. The gambling hadn’t been enough to distract me and I thought alcohol could change that. You know, it was stupid, and it was just two or three beers at first, which was why you probably didn’t notice. Plus, we didn’t exactly get into each other’s personal space anymore, so you didn’t smell it, I assume.”
Ryan hadn’t, yet as a doctor he should’ve seen the signs. Then again, three beers weren’t something causing too many signs within a person.
“When I started to slur words, you and I weren’t talking much anymore, and you usually called me when my worst bouts of intoxication were over. I started drinking early in the morning, and by nine at night I was almost sober again….certainly enough to not have you realize it. I was ashamed, and I lashed out because I couldn’t handle the thought of disappointing you. Losing your mother was hard on me, but losing you was harder. You were still alive and I didn’t know how to mourn my wife and take care of your pain, too. It made me feel like a failure. It was a vicious cycle.”
Ryan couldn’t believe his ears, and he stood, needing to move his feet. His father’s dark eyes were on him. He felt them with every step, with every word he didn’t say.
“I should’ve been there, should’ve seen the signs and helped you before it got too bad,” Ryan finally stated, conviction burning through him. He’d neglected his grieving father because he hadn’t been the way Ryan had longed for.
“You couldn’t have. Many people tried. My friends tried. My colleagues tried. I didn’t want help. I wasn’t ready for help. In fact, I didn’t think I had a problem.”
Addicts never did.
Ryan gritted his teeth, surprised when Aimie stood and leaned into him.
“What changed?” she asked and his father shrugged, focusing on something on the table.
“There was this little girl. She fell, right in front of the house, and she was bleeding. I grabbed my first aid kit and wanted to bandage her knee. I crouched down and she pulled away. I’d never before seen her, had never talked to her, but she scrunched up her nose. She said she wasn’t allowed to talk to drunkards after her mom’s friend moved out. It was obvious what she was saying, but I stared at her. It was eight in the morning. I’d been up for an hour. I assured her I wasn’t a drunkard and she told me she smelled it on me.”
God, Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more, but Aimie sat back down, this time in his chair, and touched her father’s hand.
“You wanted to help her,” she offered gently and Ryan stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I wanted to. I hadn’t drunk a sip yet. I’d meant to when I saw her. What she smelled was the alcohol on my breath from the night before. It made me realize how much I’d had, and that for a normal human it would’ve ended in a huge hangover. I didn’t have one. I just craved vodka. And it fucked me up in the head. I left the first aid kit, went inside, emptied my bottle of vodka, called a few friends and asked them to help me. I got sober. I got a job again. And I got regrets. Loads of them. You were one.”
His father met his eyes and Ryan sighed.
“I wish I would’ve known. I wish I had helped you. I wish…” Too many things, but when he looked at his old man, he realized it wasn’t too late. His father hadn’t died of alcohol poisoning, and they could still make it right. “Do you still have the letters you wrote me?”
Landon Spencer nodded. “Sure do. I also have a guest room you can stay in, or a hotel room I booked for you. Your choice. Just know if you stay here, there’ll be orange juice and water in your future.”
There was a frail smile playing over his dad’s lips, but Ryan couldn’t help himself, chuckling.
“Aimie goes crazy on water. We need to be careful.”
His wife kissed his hand still on her shoulder, and he knew she trusted him to make a decision for them, supporting him no matter what.
It meant the world to him, especially because he had no idea how he’d feel once they settled into his father’s guest room for the night.
At least she’d be there if he suddenly started to regret his decision.
Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “I don’t wanna drive anymore anyway, so thank you for the bed you offered. We’ll happily take it.”
At least he hoped ‘happy’ would be what he felt at the end of the night.
* * *
Aimie couldn’t help but enjoy being around Ryan’s father. He was attentive, caring, sweet, and sometimes even funny. She didn’t have any doubt that Ryan and his father had a lot of work to do to make it up to each other, but it was obvious Landon Spencer would do everything in his power now that he’d gotten his son back.
They’d retired to the living room, and Ryan had pulled her onto his lap, as if he couldn’t handle the whole thing if she wasn’t close. His phone vibrated in his pocket and Aimie glanced at him.
“It might be the hospital,” she whispered and he nodded.
“Might be, but I’m too far away to do anything, so…”
She knew he meant well, knew she usually expected him to be present when they were together, but she also knew he’d be wondering all night what was going on and if he could’ve done something, so she slipped form his lap.
“Go, we’ll be okay.”
“What’s up, son?” his father asked and Ryan pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen as if to confirm their suspicion, then sighed.
“It’s the hospital. I have to take this.” He kissed her cheek and then left the room.
Landon’s eyes stayed on him, his expression thoughtful until Aimie cleared her throat. “It’ll take time. I think it’s harder realizing a person is not an asshole per se…excuse my language.” She bit her lip for a second while Landon laughed.
“Please, feel right at home, so use the language you’d usually do,” he invited her, and she nodded.
“What I’m trying to say is, it would’ve been easier to accept six years of no contact if you’d been just another douche, but clearly that isn’t the case.”
He shrugged. “Or, it isn’t the case any longer,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Aimie conceded. “Either way, I think Ryan is a little overwhelmed knowing things could’ve been different. A lot different. I wish there was something I could say to ease his mind.”
Ryan’s father smiled to himself, clasping his hands together in his lap. “I met a couple of his girlfriends in high school, and I met some he had later on. Not many of them made a big impression on me. They liked dating soldiers later on, liked the way a lot of people respected him. Then came the ones enjoying dating a doctor. I never understood why he dated the people he did because…I loved his mother more than my life. I loved her with every beat of my heart, and I whisked her away for a wedding that was small, fast, and final. I wasn’t going to let her get away. I wanted her, and I wanted to grow with her. She was content staying home to be a mom, and things worked perfectly for a while there.”
Aimie almost smirked. No wonder Ryan hadn’t been ready to do things officially, the big way. “Did you think she was going to run away if you gave her an engagement and a few months before the wedding?”
Landon chuckled. “Don’t you always? Fear they’ll run away, I mean? I figured if I married her, she knew I was serious, knew I wanted things with her. It wasn’t until after her death that I truly failed her, and by failing her, I also failed my son. He should’ve seen that I’d have continued living for him and myself, because it’s what she would’ve wanted. You see, when men die, the women stay back, and they grieve, but they pick up the pieces because they know we want them to be happy. Men? They fall apart, unless they didn’t really love you. I loved Annie more than my own life. I didn’t think there’d be more out there for me, but there is. And I failed Ryan because he never realized that it was good having loved in the first place. I think he didn’t really look for anything lasting because…what would it have brought him, huh? Nothing. And all the shifts he’s doing, the busy weekends, everything…I think it was an escape from an empty life.”
Aimie gave a non-committal shrug, then cleared her throat. “He married me. You’d think things changed, but it takes a while, really, and patience to see the changes. I think your theory has some holes. However, whatever happened, happened. Now it’s time to make sure he knows you’ll be there for him no matter what.”
“Are you pregnant?”
She gaped at him, the question so out of the blue she choked on the sip of water she’d just taken. “Excuse me?”
Landon blushed, but chuckled nonetheless. “Don’t get upset with me. I was just thinking about the way he treats you, as if you’re breakable, as if something could happen. He looks at you that way, too. As if there’s something the world isn’t privy to. It reminded me of when Annie carried Ryan. I feared she was gonna drop dead any second.”
Aimie instantly shook her head. “No, I’m not pregnant. I’m very certain of that. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it can’t be that.”
Landon scratched his skin thoughtfully, his dark eyes calculating and so much like Ryan’s, Aimie had to lower her eyes.
“Thank you for having us,” she said into the sudden silence and Ryan’s father stood.
“Thank you for being here.” He pointed at her glass, asking her if she wanted more water, but she declined, rubbing her temples as he vanished and Ryan came back in.
“River’s stalker. She got escorted out of the hospital, and I was called to see if I’d mind working under more security. Stupid to call for something like that, especially when it’s about safety.” He paused for a moment, and whatever he saw on Aimie’s face made him arch a brow. “What did he say?”
She chuckled. “Nothing. He thought I’m pregnant because you supposedly treat me extra soft. Come and sit. You doing okay?”
He took the spot next to her, and she loved the way he took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. “I am. Surprisingly I am. It’s weird, and I wish I’d have known to help, but this is actually nice. Weird, but nice. And you’re here, which means the world to me.”
She let him kiss her, savored the feeling until her heart tripled its speed, then she let go.
“I brought you a beer, son,” Landon announced and Aimie saw Ryan tense. “No worries. All that will be left you’ll take with you. And I don’t mind people drinking around me. I got them from the store when you said you’d be coming.”
Ryan nodded, tight-lipped. “Thank you.” He accepted the beer and then stared at his father as he held out a piece of paper. “What’s that?”
“The receipt so you see I’m not lying.”
“Dad,” Ryan started, but Landon just shook his head.
“No. I want you to believe me. I know you never saw me during my bad times, but I figured you’ve worked with enough alcoholics to know what it’s like. I’m fine. I’m in control.”
There was something on Landon’s face and Aimie couldn’t help but think there’d been something guarded about the other man all night. As if he was hiding something else.
“Okay, so you manage to stay sober while being alone? I know you’re strong-willed, but…” Ryan shrugged and Landon blew out a long breath.
“You know I loved your mother like no one else in this world, right? And I will continue to love her,” he started and Aimie couldn’t help her surprised gasp.
“What?” Ryan asked, clearly not catching on.
“Your dad found someone new. He has a girlfriend,” Aimie said gently and her husband swallowed. She wasn’t the least bit surprised. There was just too much going on at once.
“She’s right. I met her during my first therapy session. She was there with her brother, as support. She knows everything about me, us, the family. I…yeah.” For the first time since they’d arrived, Ryan’s father looked uneasy and Aimie wished she could do something. The problem was, only Ryan could something to ease his dad’s mind, and it seemed that for a while, he was rendered speechless yet again.
* * *
Ryan stared at his wife, then at his father before finally smiling. “I’ve wanted you happy, Dad, for such a long time. After Mom’s death I didn’t think you’d ever find your way back to yourself. I wasn’t sure I’d find my way back to being me, either. I have Aimie now, and we’re on a good path. So…congratulations.”
And he meant it with every beat of his heart. Maybe things between them could be really good again, and he’d have his family back…and maybe, one day in the future, his own to extend the existing one.
“Thank you. Her name is Christine, and I want you to meet her. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow, and—”
“Yes, sure we can, but afterward Aimie and I need to get back.” He still wanted some time with his wife before he was back in the hospital again.
Said wife surprised him by standing so she could hug his father. “God, I cannot wait to meet her. You’re practically glowing.”
It was true, Ryan noted. His father had been kind and welcoming since they’d arrived, but now he looked truly happy.
Aimie yawned next to him and Ryan pulled her back onto his lap. “Maybe we should get to bed,” he suggested. “After all, we can still talk tomorrow.”
His father nodded, blushing. “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you up that long. I mean, to keep you that busy. I know how rarely doctors take time off,” he uttered. “And newlyweds need a lot more time together.”
“We’re not exactly newlyweds any longer,” Aimie pointed out, her voice filled with regret and something different, something Ryan couldn’t quite place. Was it lost hope? Or just the realization that the honeymoon phase was technically over?
His father winked. “Ryan’s mom and I acted like newlyweds for—”
“—always,” Ryan interrupted, remembering all the kisses and hugs that had made his fourteen-year-old self gag. “They were the worst when it came to P.D.A.” And while he loved holding Aimie, he couldn’t deny that he held himself back a lot of times. He didn’t wrap his arms around her when she was cooking because he worried he’d be in her way, and he didn’t demand that they cuddle up on the sofa when watching TV.
Most of the time he longed for it, but he figured if it was what she wanted, too, she’d make a move.
“That’s good. My parents really love each other, but let’s face it; they are less cuddly whenever people are around.”
Maybe that was why she wasn’t as much into it as he was.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” he mentioned and she met his eyes.
“Your parents never came up, and I thought maybe they’d both died or something, and I didn’t want to open wounds. I couldn’t have known things were just…complicated.” She shrugged and he couldn’t say that she was wrong.
“That would be my fault,” his father stated, his voice filled with regret. “I didn’t know how else to reach you. We could’ve made this right years ago had I remembered the info you’d given me.”
It was indeed something Ryan regretted, because he couldn’t get around all the ‘what ifs’ in his mind.
However, what was done was done, and from here on there were only new chances for them to take. For the moment though, he wanted a moment alone with Aimie.
“Good night, Dad, and thanks for having us,” he said, hesitating because he wasn’t sure if he should hug his father or not. Before his mother had died they’d been huggers. He’d always been taught that guys, too, could hug without having to worry what people were thinking.
In fact, he was one of those people who thought a hug could change a lot.
Okay, maybe they needed more than one, but it would be a start in his mind.
“Come here, son,” his father demanded, his voice filled with emotion, and Ryan went willingly, exhaling slowly as his father’s arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. “It’s good to have you back in my life. You were the only thing missing.”
Ryan smiled against his father’s shoulder. “Agreed, Dad.”
They let go then and Aimie hugged the other man, too, then they made their way up the stairs.
They’d gotten their clothes earlier and much to Aimie’s disappointment she’d realized that the room they slept in never had been Ryan’s, because they’d lived five states over before his mother had died.
In other words, she was disappointed about not having caught awkward teenage pictures and weird posters.
“You know, I still wish I could see your room. The one you used to live in,” Aimie admitted as they walked into the guest bedroom. She opened the door to the en-suite and started her evening routine. He had to admit he liked watching her when she took off her makeup and put on her creams and lotions, brushing her teeth and just humming softly.
“There wouldn’t have been much to see. I used to be out most of the time, hanging with the cheerleaders and my friends. I didn’t have any need for unreachable women on my wall. And I wasn’t exactly fan of the music back then, either, so I didn’t want those posters on my wall.”
She’d paused in her toilette, watching him thoughtfully. “I cannot decide if you had a sad childhood without embarrassing girl band posters, or a good one because you were so cool.”
He chuckled and then stood, wondering if she’d tell him to move if he wrapped her in his arms.
She still had a cotton pad in her hand, and some cleansing liquid, and watched him in the mirror for a moment while he rested his head on her shoulder.
“What?” he challenged and she kept her expression neutral until suddenly she smiled.
“Nothing. I like having you this close. I like you just being there. Unless you expect me wipe your face clean?” She held out the pad and he shook his head, although the scent was fresh, clean, and definitely pleasant.
He also recognized it from their nights together. “Huh,” he made.
“Huh what?” she asked.
He kissed her cheek, rosy from her ministrations, and grinned. “I always thought it was your night lotion smelling like that, but now I realize it’s that face cleanser stuff.”
She arched her brows at him. “And that’s interesting because…?”
It wasn’t, not in the grand scheme of things, but still he couldn’t deny that he liked having learned something new about her.
“It isn’t. Just…I guess knowing your routine gives me a feeling of…” He searched for the right word.
“Familiarity? Intimacy?” she suggested and he nodded.
“Yes, exactly. It’s exciting not knowing a person, but…there’s so much to find out about someone you love, and being here, around my dad, reminds me of how much I wanted what they had, but then I never bothered searching for it.”
She put her pad down and then turned in his arm. He had no idea what she was trying to clean off her face because in his eyes she was perfect, but he didn’t say that.
“You remembered you wanted unconditional love even after death? And it took you until we were here?”
He couldn’t place her tone and figured he was better off treading carefully. “After Mom was gone, I wasn’t sure I liked the pain, and then the memory of the painful life after her was more present than everything else,” he explained.
She smiled softly. “All I wanted to hear was ‘yes, it took me until now’ and I’d have told you I’d have brought us here earlier if I had known it would change you and make you all cuddly.”
He kissed her lips softly, briefly, and then sighed. “I was always cuddly, but I wasn’t sure you’d want me to touch you all the time. I’m a big believer in giving people space, thinking they’d tell me if they wanted something different.”
She licked her lips, annoyance crossing her face. “Or you could’ve just reached out for them, because maybe they weren’t sure if you were all for hugs and shit, and gave you the room they thought you needed,” she huffed and he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she agreed.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he blew out a long breath.
“I want you to touch me. Hold me whenever, Ryan. Kiss me. Hold my hand if you feel the need. Please. Never be shy around me, okay?” she begged and he took her hands in his, kissing her fingertips before pressing her palm against his cheek.
“Promise,” he assured her. “And please, the same goes for you. I want this to work, and if you want to touch me, act on it. I will, too.”
He had a feeling he’d be touching her a lot from now on, and didn’t mind the slightest bit.
* * *
Lunch was a fun and boisterous affair. Christine was outgoing and fun, a petite redhead about half the size of Ryan’s father. She was bubbly and entertaining, and Aimie loved her almost instantly.
She had a feeling she was the polar opposite of Ryan’s mother, but couldn’t exactly ask him about it while Landon and Christine were around.
“I wish I could’ve been there. I love weddings. Like…so much! It’s something to remember forever,” she announced and Aimie blushed crimson.
“Yeah, weddings are a great thing if you have the right woman. That moment she walks down the aisle…I bet it touched you deeply, Ryan,” Landon said proudly.
She noticed that there didn’t seem to be any doubt within the other woman that Landon loved her, too, after losing what he’d considered the love of his life, and yet the other man’s feelings couldn’t be more obvious in the way he glanced at Christine over and over, or smiled when she did.
“Vegas wedding. The aisle wasn’t that long, and Aimie’s dress wasn’t really so bridal.” Aimie wished the ground would swallow her up, or that Ryan would change the subject, but she had no such luck. “I kinda overwhelmed her. Knew I couldn’t let her go again and then made her marry me when she was slightly intoxicated.”
Christine pulled a face. “Uh-oh, morning after explanations?” she asked sympathetically, causing Aimie to wonder if she’d been through the same.
The woman leaned in until the men couldn’t hear her. “Lost my sister to a Vegas wedding. Never got her back.” She winked.
“How long ago was that?”
“Twenty-two years.”
They’d made it. Christine’s Vegas-wedding couple made it. Hope blossomed in her chest although she was almost positive with how crazy Ryan and she were about each other, they’d make it, too. It was nice hearing though that Vegas weddings could end up happily-ever-after.
“What are you two women whispering about?” Landon asked loudly and Christine giggled, patting his hand.
“Nothing, darling. Just women’s talk. You know, emotions and all that.” She gave Aimie another wink before focusing back on Landon.
Ryan drew her in, kissing the side of her head. “I like her,” he whispered.
“She is good for your dad,” Aimie said as a way of agreeing.
He nodded. “I like how they talk about Mom, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.” So he had noticed, too.
“Right? It’s touching. I cannot believe how many people get jealous of a dead person. I mean…of course they wouldn’t be together if your mother hadn’t died that day, but then Christine and your dad probably would’ve never met anyway. She seems to know that life is about moving forward and not looking back. Plus…she’s a little crazy.”
“Crazy is good,” Ryan pointed out. “It makes life interesting, and let’s face it, who wants normal when they can have smiles and sunshine and ice-cream in the rain?”
She liked that idea, liked the positive outlook he suddenly seemed to have on relationships; maybe it should’ve surprised her that one day had changed so much about his attitude, but it didn’t.
Instead she couldn’t help but think he’d put himself in a cage, had kept himself busy to not long for things he’d seen lived when growing up.
“Is that what we’ll have? Ice cream in the rain?”
“Or pizza to go if you’d rather have that,” he explained and then kissed her again. It was as if he’d found new determination between coming home after seeing the soldiers die, and that moment right there.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more,” he replied and when he cupped her cheek and kissed her as if his life depended on it, she almost believed it was true.
Then again, she was sure there was no ‘more’ in a relationship, but rather a ‘differently.’