Chapter Eighteen
Missy followed Ben up the path to his grandmother’s ranch home in Eastman, a little nervous to meet the woman who’d raised Ben after his mom’s death. She needed to make a good impression because she knew his grandmother meant the world to him. His grandmother had moved into the house Ben had grown up in so he’d have that stability. Missy wished her aunt would’ve done the same. It wasn’t easy to start over in a new home and new school while grieving her family.
They reached the concrete front porch, and Ben entwined his fingers with hers, gave her a quick kiss, and rang the bell. His easy affection was a nice distraction. One day she’d get used to it, she supposed, but now it gave her a small jolt of surprise every time.
The door swung open and Missy’s jaw dropped. Sweet Mrs. Walsh from church stood there in a red sweater with a big Christmas tree on it that blinked with tiny multicolored lights. She had a small red bow clipped to her white jaw-length hair. Ben stepped inside, swallowing his petite grandmother up in a hug. Missy followed behind, her mind whirling.
His grandmother pulled away from Ben and beamed at Missy. “I knew you’d be together by Christmas!”
“I didn’t know you were Ben’s grandmother,” Missy said, looking at Ben and then back to his grandmother. Of course, there was no family resemblance since Ben was adopted. Their last names were different too, so she couldn’t be faulted for not putting it together before.
“Proud to be,” Mrs. Walsh said. “Come in, come in, have a seat. Merry Christmas!” She muttered to herself as she hustled into her living room, where a plate of peanut butter cookies waited. Each cookie had a Hershey’s Kiss pressed in the center.
Missy took a seat next to Ben on the cushy beige sofa. Mrs. Walsh sat in a blue high-back chair next to them, looking delighted, a big smile on her face.
Ben took a cookie. “Thanks, Grandmom. Love your peanut butter Kiss cookies.”
“That’s why I made them,” Mrs. Walsh said. “Always take care of my cutie patootie.”
Missy bit back a laugh. Ben just grinned.
A bizarre thought occurred to Missy. “Mrs. Walsh?”
“Yes?” The older woman’s blue eyes twinkled with glee.
“Did you send Ben to the church bazaar specifically to meet me?” Missy asked.
Mrs. Walsh laughed. “I sent him to get his gift.”
Ben chuckled. “Which was Missy. I get it now.” He made a face at his grandmother and asked in mock anger, “Now what made you think I wanted to be set up?”
“You’re thirty-one years old, for crying out loud,” Mrs. Walsh retorted. “Single and wilting on the vine. Besides, Missy here is like you, a good person with a deeply compassionate nature. Good people. Two good people who belong together.” She smiled smugly.
Missy exchanged a wry look with Ben. They’d been had, a total setup, but both of them were too happy to care. Maybe they’d both wanted to believe in fate. You know what? Maybe some of it was fate. After all, it wasn’t like Mrs. Walsh knew Missy, like Ben, had been adopted and lost her parents. She’d never shared that kind of personal info with anyone but her sister. There was something unique about her and Ben’s common backgrounds that bordered on the mystical.
“Ha!” Mrs. Walsh exclaimed. “I’m not hearing any complaints. Of course, Ben here is slow to make his move—”
“I am not slow,” he protested. Missy laughed.
Mrs. Walsh continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “So I had to make a little more effort. Missy, when I saw you working as an elf at the mall, I sent him over the very next day for a watch battery. That watch has been dead for years!”
Missy grimaced. “I’m not sure seeing me as an elf actually helped my case. I looked utterly ridiculous.”
“You looked adorable!” Mrs. Walsh declared.
“And the short skirt helped too,” Ben put in with a wink.
Missy laughed and shook her finger at his grandmother. “You’re tricky. I never would’ve guessed it was you behind all those times I ran into Ben. I thought it was just because he and I worked in the same town and knew a lot of the same people.”
Mrs. Walsh held the plate of cookies out to Missy. “Eat. You’re too skinny.” The sweetness of the gesture made Missy’s throat catch. Mrs. Walsh was looking after her like family.
Missy took a cookie. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Walsh nodded once and declared, “I told Ben he’d marry a redhead.” Everyone at church had seen Missy with red hair for a short time.
Ben groaned. “Subtle.”
Missy took a bite of cookie, not commenting on the marriage thing. She knew Ben wasn’t on board with marriage, he’d told her that before, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea after her traumatic first marriage.
“See?” Ben said to Missy. “Fate is real.” He gestured to his grandmother.
“I’m fate,” Mrs. Walsh said with a cackle. “Admit it, Ben, isn’t the gift of Missy better than that itchy sweater? I told you to get your gift before someone else snatched her up. She’s quite a catch.”
Missy’s cheeks flushed, not used to compliments.
“Yes, she is,” Ben said with a smile. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Looks like you passed the grandmom test long ago.”
“What’re you whispering over there?” Mrs. Walsh demanded. “I can’t hear you.”
Missy smiled. “He says I passed the grandmom test.”
“You did! I picked you!” Mrs. Walsh rubbed her hands together. “So when’s the wedding? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
Missy choked on a laugh.
“We’re going to shack up first,” Ben said matter-of-factly.
Shack up? Missy turned to Ben, shaking her head that he’d talk to his grandmother like that. He gave her a wide-eyed look like what?
“Living in sin!” Mrs. Walsh declared with a scowl. Then Ben made it worse.
“Missy is the worst kind of sinner.”
“Ben!” Missy exclaimed.
He nudged Missy’s arm, looking at his grandmother. “She looks so angelic, but you should see her—ow!” Missy had elbowed him in the ribs.
Missy smiled sweetly at him. He gave her a kiss and nipped her lower lip in retaliation. A jolt of desire shot through her and she had to fight the urge for more.
“Who wants wine?” Mrs. Walsh asked. “I think we should toast to Ben finally settling down.” She stood, muttering under her breath, “Even if it is living in sin.” She headed into the kitchen.
Ben took Missy’s hand, his voice low and husky. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”
Missy sucked in air. “What’re you saying?”
He lifted her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, raising tingling goose bumps up her arm. “If you were open to getting married again, I would love to marry you. You’re my first love.” He paused, gazing deep into her eyes. Heart thundering, she held his gaze. “My last love. I want to spend my life with you.”
She burst into tears, overwhelmed with everything she felt for him, overwhelmed by his tender words.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “Too soon,” he murmured. “We’ll talk later.”
Mrs. Walsh walked in a few moments later with the wine tucked under one arm, holding a corkscrew, three wineglasses clutched by the stems in her other hand. Missy quickly wiped away her tears, but his grandmother caught the movement.
“Benjamin Oliver Wright!” Mrs. Walsh bellowed. “What did you do?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered.
Missy straightened in her seat. “He just said the sweetest thing, and it made me cry because I’m not used to sweetness.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Walsh handed Ben the bottle of cabernet and the corkscrew. “Well, that’s okay then. Ben can be sweet sometimes, though usually just with family. You’re the first woman he’s brought home.”
Ben opened the wine and poured, not seeming the least embarrassed to have his grandmother sharing so openly about him. He handed Missy a glass of wine, and she gazed at him in wonder. She had no idea this was such a special occasion. She’d assumed he’d brought home many girlfriends over the years.
“Is that true?” Missy asked him. “I’m the first woman you’ve brought home?”
“Yup.”
Her chin quivered, her eyes welling up because he was so special to her too. The only man that both excited her and made her feel safe.
He took her glass from her trembling fingers, setting it on the table. “If you cry again, Grandmom’s going to blame me.”
Missy grabbed both of his hands in a tight grip. “I will marry you.”
He flashed a brilliant smile. “You will?”
She nodded, beaming at him. He cupped her face and kissed her passionately. And she returned that kiss with all the love in her heart.
“Enough sucking face,” Mrs. Walsh finally declared, making them laugh.
They pulled apart, smiling at each other.
“Let’s have that toast,” Mrs. Walsh said, lifting her glass.
She and Ben picked up their glasses too, lifting them high.
“To me!” Mrs. Walsh exclaimed. “For bringing two wonderful people together who will soon make me a great-grandmother!”
Ben jolted. Missy just smiled and joined in the toast. She’d longed for children, but hadn’t wanted to be a single mom. If she was marrying Ben, building a life with him, then she’d love to make kids part of that too.
“No rush on kids,” Ben said, sending his grandmother a significant look. Mrs. Walsh smiled serenely.
Missy could just imagine his grandmother making inquiries into their reproductive life. Have you been trying? What position did you use? Hurry up and try again!
Ben gave Missy’s hand a squeeze, giving her a small smile, his dimples etched in his clean-shaven cheeks. “Down the line, kids would be great with me.”
Missy’s throat clogged with emotion, her eyes hot. All she could manage was, “Me too.”
“Now you’re going to make me cry,” Mrs. Walsh declared. “So much love.” She sniffled. “I’m so happy. This old woman needs a hug.”
Ben went and hugged her, and Missy followed quickly after him. They all settled into their seats again, and Missy told Mrs. Walsh about the Harpers’ Christmas Eve celebration. They all talked for a good while, sipping wine, warm and toasty, everything aglow. Or maybe that was just Missy glowing from all the love.
Later, she and Ben went into the kitchen to help with dinner. Mrs. Walsh kept up a steady stream of Ben stories that ranged from ridiculously proud to downright embarrassing. Missy loved it, frequently checking in with Ben, who merely smiled, not seeming bothered that she now had the most thorough background check on him a person could have. Forget the internet, nothing like a grandmother to spill the good stuff. Her absolute favorite was his brush with fame at twelve years old in a boy band that toured local malls. Ha! She told him she couldn’t wait to see those pictures and he definitely had to sing something for her. He promised he would, but he would exact payment for the privilege. Which they both knew was his version of dirty talk with a senior citizen witness.
Dinner was delicious and relaxed. She’d already gotten along with Mrs. Walsh before and felt even closer to her now over their shared love of Ben.
She gazed across the table at Ben as he bent his head to take a bite of spiced cherry pie. It was his grandmother’s famous recipe. She quickly took a forkful herself, popped it in her mouth, and then nearly spewed it out when Mrs. Walsh exclaimed, “Ben, you’ve got to get her a ring! It’s not official without the ring. Don’t delay.”
“I don’t need a ring,” Missy quickly said. “It’s okay.” She didn’t need a lot to be happy. She’d learned to live with the basics.
Ben held up a palm, shooting his grandmother another significant look before telling Missy, “You’re getting a ring and a formal proposal. I just wanted you to know right now how much I’d like to be married to you. You make me believe in marriage. I just…” He lifted one large shoulder. “I just want you forever.”
Missy’s breath caught at “forever,” her heart clutching, her body frozen. And then she let out a shaky breath and, with no thought other than to be as close to him as possible, she moved as if in a dream, leaving her seat to walk around the table to him. He was standing when she reached him, and she just wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tight. His arms came around her, filling her with radiant love.
He dropped a kiss on top of her head and told his grandmother, “I’m taking her home now.”
Missy pulled back and looked over at his grandmother, who was discreetly wiping tears away.
“Get out of here,” Mrs. Walsh said, shooing them away. “Go make babies.”
Ben chuckled. “Subtle, she is not.”
“Subtle doesn’t get the job done,” Mrs. Walsh said. “I get the job done.”
Missy couldn’t fault Mrs. Walsh for taking credit. The woman had a vested interest in their relationship and got them talking about marriage and kids. Missy was sure she never would’ve broached the topic for a very long time. It was almost too much to hope for. She would’ve been content with a committed relationship, but had to admit that marriage and kids were a welcome addition.
They said their goodbyes and drove to his place, already making plans for her to move in. For the first time, thoughts of the future filled her with nothing but joy.
But the moment they stepped inside his house, Missy had enough talking. She pounced on him, and they went for it right up against the foyer wall.
And again in his bed.
And in the shower.
Then they fell asleep, a tangle of arms and legs, all resistance gone, surrendering to fate, surrendering to love.