“So, Ryan, hun, what have you been up to all these years?” asks Bonnie from where she’s just sidled up next to my elbow by the stove.
I would scoot to my right to get a little space, but I can’t because one of June’s sisters is clinging to me on that side. She has three sisters (Jennie, Julia, and Josie) as well as her sister-in-law, Evie. And yeah, they are all surrounding me. I’m completely circled by Broaden women, and it’s making me sweat. I think that’s their goal, though.
“After high school, I attended culinary school, and I’ve been working as a chef ever since.”
“A chef! Goodness, boy. I had no idea. Based on how you and June used to duel back then, I would’ve thought you’d join the military.”
I laugh and aim a smile down at her. “Oddly enough, that career path never even crossed my mind.”
She uses her hip to bump me. “Probably ‘cause you were never actually fighting, right?”
“Well…” I tap the wooden spoon against the pot and set it on the counter before turning around to face all the women. “They do say love is war.”
Each of the sisters physically swoons and awwws in unison. Their choir alerts June that something is happening in here, because in the next moment, she’s rounding the corner into the kitchen. “I should have known you guys would be harassing Ryan. He’s cooking us all lunch. Let the man work in peace.”
“We’re not hinderin’ his work in any way, are we, Ryan?” Bonnie turns her eyes up to me, and I see now that we’re choosing teams for dodgeball. I definitely want her on mine, so I wrap an arm around her shoulder and say, “I love the company.”
June rolls her eyes and turns back around. “Don’t say I never tried.”
The moment she’s out of the room, Evie turns to me and flat-out asks, “So, Ryan…how many women have you been with?”
Shocked does not begin to convey how I feel after that question. My mouth falls open a little, but before I can answer, Jennie steps up to the plate. “Do you have a criminal record?”
Julia: “Why did your past relationships not work out?”
Evie: “Are you serious about June?”
Someone help me. They are closing in. How can four small women tower over me like this?
Josie: “Do you want a family?”
Jennie: “Is there a chance you already have a family that you don’t know about?” What the heck?
I glance back to the place where June just disappeared and consider shooting a flare up into the sky for help. Come back! I’m sorry! I’ll never choose your mom over you for dodgeball again!
But I’m a man. It’s time to grow a pair and give these women what they want. I roll my shoulders once and tilt my head side to side. Then, I take turns looking around the gang of women that I would never want to face in a dark alley alone.
I point to Evie first. “I’m not going to answer that because that’s a pretty personal question.” Boom. Moving on to Jennie. “A speeding ticket but no criminal record.” Julia. “Haven’t had a serious relationship because I’ve been married to my job.” Now I look at Mrs. Broaden as I answer the remaining questions, because I feel like her opinion matters most. “I’m more serious about June than I’ve ever been about anything in my life, and yes, I want a family. And no, there’s not a chance I have any illegitimate children floating around. Did I answer everything?”
They all stand stunned for a full minute, glancing back and forth between each other before smiles slowly crack across their devious faces, and we all laugh. Bonnie claps me on my shoulder. “I always knew I liked you, Ryan. You’re gonna fit in with us perfectly.”
“I think I have to convince June of that first.”
This is the part where Bonnie should smile and say something encouraging like oh you’ve got nothing to worry about, sugar. She doesn’t. She actually looks a little apologetic. “You’re right about that. And it won’t be easy. She’s pretty set in her ways. I love my baby girl and will support her until the day I die, but I’ve gotta be honest, Ryan…I hope you can convince her, because I’d kill to see what a baby between you and June would look like.”
We’ve jumped from getting past date number one to wheeling June out of a hospital with a baby in her arms. Moms truly are a force to be reckoned with. But here’s the thing, does it make me less of a man if I say I’ve been dreaming of the same thing? Last night, I pictured June in a house of our own, with a kid on her hip, singing and making pancakes. When I told her the other day that I’ve been having dreams that would make her blush, I’m willing to bet she had no idea they were the PG kind about our life as a family.
But I’m thirty-one years old. I’m ready for all of it. A family. Diaper changes. Late-night runs to get whatever insane thing June is craving from the store. The whole nine yards. I can see it perfectly. And although I know that even IF June and I make this work, we won’t actually be in a place to get married for a while, I can still easily picture it.
“Do you have any advice for me?” I ask Bonnie.
She tells the sisters to give us a minute alone and then turns to me and smiles. It perfectly resembles the sort of smile June gave me before she slipped a laxative in my coke in the cafeteria (I didn’t know it until later, of course).
“Fortify yourself,” she says ominously. “June has never been one to give up without a fight. Batten down the hatches, and if you really want her, prepare to hold on in rough waters, because mark my words, sugar, there will be rough waters ahead.”
“Not the most encouraging advice.”
She pats my arms. “‘Cause I like you, I’ll tell you something a little more practical to pair with the metaphorical. June doesn't like jumping into cold water. Never has, never will. In the summer, she proceeds inch for inch into the pool until, finally, before she knows it, she’s up to her hair.”
I squint. “This still feels metaphorical.”
“Don’t make her jump into the cold pool, Ryan. Inch her in and let her see for herself that the water’s fine.” She reaches up and pats my cheek, and it makes my stomach ache from how much the action reminds me of my mom.
Bonnie walks out of the kitchen, and I lean back against the counter, trying to let her words settle into my thoughts.
A minute later, June peeks her head into the kitchen. “You still alive in here?” Her brown hair is tied into a cute messy bun at the back of her head, and little wisps are hanging loose around her temples. Her face is free of makeup, letting me see all the freckles on her cheekbones and that her lips are naturally cotton-candy pink. I love cotton candy.
A few days ago, she never would have let me see her without her makeup on. Mrs. Broaden’s words poke me, and I wonder if the water is up to June’s knees or hips right now.
I extend my hand toward her, and she takes it hesitantly. I yank her in close and settle my hands on her hips. Her eyes pop up to mine, and I lean down, ready to have a full serving of cotton candy. I barely brush my lips over hers before she turns her head and whispers in my ear. “Betcha wish you could kiss me. That’s one point for me, sucker.”
She ducks under my arm and saunters out of the kitchen, only pausing to wink at me over her shoulder.
Five hours later (yes, five), June closes the front door behind her family. After spending the entire day with the Broadens, I feel like I’ve just finished a triathlon that I hadn’t trained for. I’m worn out, but in the best way. It’s been too long since I’ve been around family. I almost forgot what it was like. Years of non-stop work almost had me believing that I didn’t even need a family. Like my pots and pans would come to life Beauty-and-the-Beast style, and I’d have all the company I need in the kitchen.
Now I see how deprived I’ve been.
I’m a man who has been locked up with only bread for a decade and was just presented with an entire feast fit for a king. I want more of this. Going back to that stale bread sounds miserable.
June locks the door dramatically, puts her back against it, and sinks to the floor. The new I heart Nick socks Bonnie gave her are pulled up her legs, stopping mid-calves. “Gosh, I thought they were going to try to spend the night.”
I smile before going to sit down beside her. We’re shoulder to shoulder now, and every inch of me is aware of every inch of June. I look down at her, and my eye is drawn to the way her loose sweatshirt drapes off her shoulder a bit. I slip it back up into place. “Now I see where all the swag comes from,” I say, gesturing toward her socks.
June wiggles her toes, and two light-pink spots hit the apples of her cheeks as she looks down at her lap. “Yeah. Mama’s been giving me this stuff for years.” A chuckle rolls through her, and she looks lighter than she has all week. “It’s our inside joke that Nick Lachey is my perfect man.”
“Stiff competition.”
“Oh, there’s no competition.” She looks up at me dead pan. “He wins, hands down.”
Now we’re both laughing. It feels good. Right.
“How much of this stuff do you have?” I ask, bumping my knee against her Nick-covered calf.
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“I do. But only so I can decide if you’re too freaky for me or not.”
She sputters a laugh. “Oh, I am, for sure. I have closets full of this sexy swag.”
“You don’t.”
June’s eyes glint when she looks up at me. “Wanna bet? My mama has been giving me these gifts almost weekly for five years.”
“Five years?” I ask but then wish I hadn’t because I see that June catches on to the math I just did in my head, and her smile fades.
She pulls her knees up to her chest. “I can see you figured it out. She started giving me this stuff the week I called off my wedding.”
“Did you tell her Ben cheated on you?”
Her lashes fan across her cheekbones as she looks at her toes. “No. I only told her that it didn’t work out. I tried to tell her several times in the beginning, but it hurt too much to talk about…and honestly, I just felt embarrassed.”
Seeing June like this, in her goofy socks, vulnerable and open with her hurt on full display, it makes me want to go hunt Ben down and knock his teeth out one by one.
“Have you ever thought about telling her what really happened?”
June’s shoulders tense, and for a minute, I think that I’ve just popped the intimate bubble we were in. But then she picks a piece of lint off of one of her socks and says, “I have lately.”
I don’t know what it is about the way she said lately, but it’s as if she’s trying to tell me that something is different now. That something is changing her. Or someone. That she feels more comfortable to face her past.
I inch my fingers across the floor until they intertwine with hers. She blinks at our laced hands and looks up at me. “You look cute covered in Nick Lachey’s face.”
She shakes her head, but her smile grows. “You found the note I kept, didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah. Several days ago.”
And then, like magic, June leans her head on my shoulder. Honestly, I’m afraid to move. She’s an exotic bird that has just landed on me, and if I shift even an inch, she’ll fly away.
I slowly lean my head back against the door and breathe her in. Her hair smells like oranges again today, and my hand aches to run down her smooth legs. But I don’t move.
“Ryan?” I don’t like her tone. It feels like she’s about to take flight. “When do you leave for Chicago?”
“When I do.”
“Seriously. You’re going to leave soon. We need to talk about that.” I can see what she’s doing—trying to sabotage us before we even get going. But I’m not going to let her.
Batten down the hatches.
“No, we don’t. We’ll figure everything out as we go. No need to have all the answers now.”
“I don’t like that.”
“I know.” I can’t resist any longer, so I kiss her head. “Trust me.”
“I don’t like doing that either.”
“I know that, too.”
She takes a deep breath, and I feel her shoulders rise and fall against my side. We sit here, in this oddly peaceful state, for several minutes until her phone buzzes. It’s sitting on the floor beside her, so I’m able to see the name HUNTER FROM PARTY flash across her screen. My first instinct is to take a hammer and pound her phone into dust. But since that would make me look the tiniest bit domineering, I decide to swing heavily the opposite way instead.
“Go ahead.” I nod toward the phone. It’s clear by the way June is chewing the corner of her mouth that she does not want to open that text around me, so I do what I do best and taunt her. “Gone soft on me, June Bug? Surely you’re not worrying about my feelings?”
She flashes a glare at me from under her lashes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Is it working?”
She snatches her phone from the floor and swipes it open. “Yes.”
Our eyes both scan the words, and I try very hard not to find that hammer.
HUNTER FROM PARTY: Hey June! Sorry I’m just now getting around to texting you. The past few weeks have been insane from work, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you and wanting that date. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night and want to go to an art crawl with me?
“Who is he?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice neutral and calm.
She shrugs. “Just a guy I met at Logan's birthday party a few weeks ago.”
June isn’t smiling, and for some reason, that gives me hope. So much of me wants her to text this Hunter guy back and tell him to go jump off a bridge, but then I remember what Bonnie told me. Inch her in.
“You should go. Sounds fun,” I say, but I don’t move my hand away from hers. Whether she likes it or not, this hand belongs to me now.
“Are you kidding?” She looks up to me and searches my face.
I force myself to look nonchalant. No big deal. I’m the poster child for repressed emotions right now. “Not kidding. I think you’d have a lot of fun at an art crawl.”
“Well, yeah…but...” She lets go of my hand and turns to face me. Crossing her legs, she settles a scrutinizing gaze on my face. She’s hooked me up to a lie detector before she begins her questions. “Have you or have you not been trying to date me this past week?”
Okay, I see. It’s not a lie detector. We’re in the courtroom now, and I’m on the stand. “I have. And I will date you, just not yet.”
Her eyes narrow. I picture her wearing a sexy black pencil dress with a briefcase at her side, and it makes this whole thing more fun. “But you’re okay with me dating other guys in the meantime?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my sexy joke. “Why? This is another game, isn’t it? You have an ulterior motive in wanting me to go out with him.”
I smile and lift a brow. “Now why would I want you to go out with other guys if I’m into you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I lean forward slowly and rest my lips against the shell of her ear. “Let me know when you figure it out.” While I’m there, I decide not to waste an opportunity and kiss her neck before standing up.
June stays seated, eyeing me cautiously, but a faint smile hovers over her lips because she loves this. She loves the strategy. The dance. The calculation. It used to be fun in high school, but now that we know what the other person’s lips feel like, the game is twice as exciting.
I stick my hand out, and she accepts it, letting me pull her up to her feet. With her standing inches from my chest, I say, “Go ahead. Accept him.”
She twitches her head to the side a little and eyes me one last time. I’m not sure if she found the answer in my face she was looking for or not, but finally, she types out a quick response accepting Hunter’s invitation and hits send.