by Claire Raye
But, I want what Ryan has with his family, and I know I want to be with Ryan. I can see my future with him, and being the first girl he’s ever brought home to meet his family further enforces that he loves me.
After a few more minutes of letting my anxiety and nervousness talk me out of getting out of bed, I finally pull it together. Despite my shaking hands and racing heart, I toss on some clothes and whip my wild hair into a messy pile on the top of my head. With my hand on the doorknob, I take a deep breath and pull it open.
The voices grow louder and the laughter more pronounced, but I still force myself to walk down the stairs, my legs feeling like they could give out at any moment.
I have no idea what I’m so nervous about because the list at this point is endless. I can’t even begin to sort out what scares me the most; meeting his family, them finding out about my family, him never bringing a girl home, me saying something stupid, his sister not liking me, his mom not liking me.
I swallow hard and make my way toward the kitchen, my feet silently padding against the hard wood floor, but I stop just short of the kitchen. Trying to gather my thoughts and what I’ll say when I walk into their already established conversation and relationship. The calm and comfort they feel around each other is about to be disrupted by my nervous and awkward ass.
After all Ryan and I have been through over the past few months, I realize we’ve grown closer and that I can’t imagine my life without him, but I also know, I’m not the girl you take home to meet your family. I’m crass and vulgar, I say inappropriate things and I hate small talk. I’m just not sure about this whole situation and then I hear, “Fuck off, you asshat,” and I think I just might fit right in.
I step into the doorway of the kitchen and Ryan winks at me, but doesn’t say anything. His gaze quickly returns to his sister, as she gives him a defiant stare from across the room. I missed what was said, too wrapped up in my own thoughts, but whatever happened, neither looks like they’re backing down.
This is the first time since we arrived that I actually get a good look at Ryan’s sister Sarah as she stands leaning with her back against the counter and well, fuck me if she’s not gorgeous.
Tall and thin with blue eyes and blonde hair, absolutely stunning. And then there’s me; wild red hair, fair skin and green eyes. I look like fucking Strawberry Shortcake next to a Barbie doll.
I take my place by Ryan’s side and he slips an arm around my waist and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head, but I can tell he’s distracted. He lets out a long sigh and then leans down whispering, “good morning” to me and kisses me on the lips a little longer than necessary.
“Oh my god, Ryan, get a room,” Sarah yells and then smiles at me. “No offense, Erin,” she adds as she continues her argument with Ryan.
Turns out, it’s a long standing argument about which Red Sox pitcher is better, with Sarah choosing Pedro Martinez and Ryan taking Roger Clemens. The argument ultimately leads back to Clemens suspected steroid usage after he was traded to Toronto. I don’t say it out loud, but I side with Sarah on this one. Although, I could go head to head with these two, tossing in Greg Maddux when he played for Atlanta, as my top pitcher.
I kinda love Sarah and the way she doesn’t back down to Ryan. She reminds me a lot of myself, only crazy fucking hot.
“Good morning, Erin,” Ryan’s mom says pointedly, interrupting the argument and shooting both of them a nasty look as she motions for everyone to sit down at the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” I answer back, smiling as I sit down next to Ryan.
The table is covered in a massive spread of food that makes a buffet look like a snack stand. There are pancakes, fresh fruit, bacon, sausage, biscuits, coffee and juice; it’s the kind of breakfast that puts the sleeve of Chips Ahoy I would’ve eaten to shame.
“Do you do this every morning?” I ask, almost confused by the effort that goes into something this elaborate.
“Only when I come home,” Ryan states conceitedly, again glaring at Sarah as he says it.
“Bullshit,” Sarah mutters back shaking her head as she helps herself to the plate of pancakes. “Ryan likes to believe he’s the favorite, and shit like this happens only when he comes home.” She pushes back from the table and grabs a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. “Mimosa?” she asks, glancing at me as she pops open the bottle and adds the champagne to her glass of orange juice.
“Sarah, it’s eight-thirty in the morning,” Ryan says sounding appalled by Sarah’s offer and I nearly laugh out loud. I’ve seen Ryan drink a beer at eight a.m.
“It’s a mimosa, Ryan. It’s not like I offered her a glass of whiskey.”
“Yes, please,” I say to Sarah, confirming that I feel it’s okay for her to drink this early in the morning. And anyway, I’m gonna need it if I’m going to settle down. “And you,” I say turning to look at Ryan, “Like you’ve never had a drink before nine a.m.” I flit my hand in Ryan’s direction and give him a little scowl.
“Yeah, Ryan,” Sarah adds. “ I think I’ve earned my right to drink in the morning once in a while. I’m twenty-six, I still live with my parents and I bartend at the only bar in a town of two thousand people. Drinking at eight-thirty a.m. is as good as gets for me.” Sarah lets out a chuckle and holds her glass up. “Cheers” she calls out and taps her glass against mine.
A few seconds later Ryan’s mom and dad join us at the table with Ryan introducing me to his father, Tom who was already in bed when we arrived last night.
“To answer your question, Erin,” Ryan’s mom says, as she takes a few pieces of bacon from the platter. “I don’t do this every day. Only on days when my kids come home.”
“See, Ryan’s her favorite,” Sarah chimes in. “I live here and she never does this for me.”
“That’s because we’re trying to get rid of you,” Ryan’s dad says with a smirk on his face. “And drinking at eight-thirty? Come on, Sarah.” He gives her a dramatic eye roll.
The table laughs, with Ryan laughing the loudest. Even as adults these two seem to really like to give each other shit and I love every minute of it.
“Oh my god, I’ve got to get out of this house,” Sarah laments and both her parents echo her sentiments.
Trying to ease the humiliation and teasing that Sarah is being dealt, I add, “Why don’t to you come down to Rockport one weekend and stay with Ryan and me?”
“Sold,” she says and Ryan looks over at me, a small smile on his lips as his hand gives my thigh a little squeeze as if to say thank you.
The conversation dies out and the table grows quiet. It’s the quiet that makes me nervous. I can deal with Sarah being the center of attention and the conversation focusing on little things that don’t really have to do with me, but I can feel that’s not where we are heading.
“So how’d you two meet?” Sarah asks and I pick up my mimosa and down it in a few gulps.
We fucked in a public restroom in a bar after arguing like children.
Ryan leans over and kisses my temple and says, “We met through Beck, my ex-partner. Erin grew up with him and his fiancé, Kelsey.”
Okay, that was better than what I had floating around in my head. Clearly I need to get my shit together.
“Where are you from, Erin?” Ryan’s mom asks.
“Did you grow up in Rockport or Boston?” Sarah tosses in along with her mom’s question.
“Shit, that’s a lot of questions,” Ryan says, saving me. “Give her a second to answer.”
I take a drink of water and begin to answer their questions, trying to keep my answers as vague as possible, but something tells me this family doesn’t do vague.
“I’m from just outside of Atlanta originally, but I summered in Rockport. That’s how I met Beck and Kelsey.” Okay that wasn’t so bad.
“Is your family still in Atlanta?” Ryan’s mom asks and I stop and take another drink of water.
“Yes,” I say, p
ausing as Ryan looks over at me, knowing this is an incredibly difficult conversation for me to have, he begins stroking the back of my neck. “My mom still lives in Atlanta, I think, but I don’t see her much. And my dad…” I say, trailing off, but quickly adding in, “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
The table falls silent and all I can do is mentally chastise myself. I’m lying and I know it, Ryan knows it, but how do you explain that you saw your father recently, but it was in a prison visitation room, and the last words you said to him were, “fuck you”?
Nice one, Erin.
“Oh, that’s too bad, dear,” Ryan’s mom says, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I imagine that’s hard, but I’m sure there’s a reason things happened the way they did.”
It’s like this woman is an expert at families and making people feel less awkward, and without asking me another question, she changes the subject and the table is back to chatting mindlessly.
“So what’s on the agenda today, Ry?” his dad asks and I wonder if he’s told his parents the reason for his visit. I’m not sure how you explain that you’re avoiding the Boston mob by running up to small town Maine without it sounding bat shit crazy.
“I’ve gotta head over to Warren today to interview an inmate for a case I’m working on. It all just kinda came together and I thought it would also be a great time for you to meet Erin.”
He smiles at me and my stomach flutters a little as he takes my hand in his, pressing a small kiss to my palm.
“You don’t mind hanging out with Sarah today, do you?” he says, looking at me as he asks.
“No, not at all.” And I look over at Sarah and give her a smile. I’m looking forward to getting to know Ryan’s sister, because it means I get to know more about Ryan.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you visiting prisons on a regular basis,” Ryan’s mom says. “It still makes me nervous.” She shrugs her shoulders and gives him a look that says he’ll always be her kid no matter how old he is.
Her words make my stomach clench and I can’t help but think she’d hate the idea of her son dating the daughter of the biggest mob boss in Boston.
Ryan showers and dresses quickly with me following suit since I know he has an appointment at Maine State Prison soon.
I haven’t let myself ask it, but the thought has been swirling around in my head since he told me he had to visit the prison. I wonder whom he’s going to visit? A former associate of my father’s? Someone connected to Anthony? As much it consumes my thoughts, I can’t bring myself to truly want an answer, so I let it go, ignore it like I always do.
We meet up with Sarah in the kitchen. She’s still sitting at the table picking at a few leftover pieces of pancake on her plate as she scrolls through the screen on her phone. I’m going to guess she’s on her third mimosa and I honestly don’t blame her. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be back living with your parents after being on your own for so long. It’s my definition of a nightmare and her family is nothing like mine.
“You sure you’re okay staying here with Sarah and my mom?” Ryan asks again.
“Of course. Go do what you need to do and Sarah and I can get to know each other.”
Without looking up from her phone Sarah chimes in, “Yeah, she’ll be fine. I’m gonna take her on a historic homes tour and show her where the mayor lives. It’s going to be amazing.” Sarah’s tone is dripping with so much sarcasm it’s hard not to laugh. This town is pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
A few hours later Sarah and I are sitting in front the TV flipping through channels trying to find something to watch. It’s late in the afternoon now and our day was spent having lunch at the bar where she works and chatting, and later driving through town with Sarah filling me in on all the funny things that happened in their childhood.
With Sarah being the baby of the family and her sisters being quite a bit older than her, she spent most of her time with Ryan. The three-year age difference not mattering much until they were in high school. That’s when Ryan decided she couldn’t hang around with him anymore; too much of a distraction to his friends. I can totally see Ryan as the protective big brother.
Sarah stops on a movie channel just as the opening scene of the movie begins. “Oh shit, I love this movie. You wanna watch it?” Sarah asks beaming and giving my leg a little shove to show her excitement.
“Sure. What is it?”
“Casino.”
Fuck my life, she can’t be serious.
But she’s dead serious and ready to settle in and watch the whole damn movie as she hops up from the couch and returns with a few beers and a bag of potato chips.
When Ryan finally walks in, Sarah and I have eaten an extra large pizza and have drunk at least six beers apiece. Needless to say, we’re drunk and carrying on about the realism that Sarah seems to think doesn’t really exist in regards to the mob and the way they live their lives.
“Listen, listen, Sarah,” I say, my words slurring as I pat my hand on Sarah’s thigh. “These people didn’t do it right. They needed to keep a low profile, like buy a smaller house, live in the suburbs, stay off the drugs. Get into construction or antique furniture…Casinos were too much. Just put some air triggers on the stairs and sleep with a gun under your pillow…” I stop short of selling myself out when Ryan appears in front of me. His hands on his hips and his eyes trained on me.
“A little drunk, are you?” he says and Sarah and I both burst out laughing.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan
As I stare down at Erin and my sister laughing their drunken asses off, I can’t help but be relieved. Relieved that she’s obviously had a good time today and relieved that some of the fear and frustration she’s been feeling at everything that’s going on with her family and all the things I’m not telling her has finally disappeared for a bit.
And as much as I know she was dangerously close to outing her family’s mob connections just now, I actually don’t care if she does. Back at breakfast when the questions about her family had come up, I could sense the hesitation in Erin. I knew she was reluctant to share too many details and even though I hadn’t offered any up either, it wasn’t because I was trying to hide this part of her. I know my family won’t judge her for it and honestly, none of it is her fault anyway. It was more a case of me wanting to protect her; let her tell her story in her own time and in her own way.
“Don’t be mad, baby,” Erin says, crawling toward me.
I can’t resist grinning as I look down at her. “How can I be mad, Red, especially when you’re on your knees in front of me like this.”
Erin smirks at my words, her eyes half closed because she’s drunk, but somehow still managing to look extremely sexy. “You have something in mind, detective?” she asks, inching closer to me as her hands go to my hips.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake you two,” Sarah half shouts. “You do realize I’m right here, don’t you?”
My smile widens. “Come on, babe,” I say, pulling Erin up. “I think you need to come with me.”
Erin laughs as she falls against me, my arms wrapping around her waist as I half carry her out of the room.
“Hey, not fair!” Sarah shouts. “I wanna hang out with her.”
“Sorry, sis,” I say as I pick Erin up and throw her over my shoulder. “You’ve had all day with her, now it’s my turn.”
“Fuck you, Ryan” she says, throwing a pillow at us. “Thanks for stealing her away, dick.”
Erin laughs again, slapping me on the ass as I turn and walk us out of the living room and up the stairs to my old bedroom. As we walk in, I kick the door shut with my heel, walking straight to the bed where I gently lower Erin.
“So,” she says, smiling as she looks up at me. “Now you’ve brought me up here, detective, what are you going to do with me?”
I grin down at her as I kick off my shoes before pulling my sweater over my head. Throwing it on the floor, I le
an down, hands on either side of her head and say, “I think we might need to work on sobering you up, Red.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss me. “And how are you going to do that?”
“Oh,” I say, pressing a hard kiss to the side of her neck. “I have a couple of ideas.”
An hour or so later, Erin is fast sleep beside me, our sweaty bodies still entwined as my fingers run up and down her spine, her soft breaths brushing against my chest.
I’m glad she hasn’t asked me about how today went, although given the state she was in when I got home, I’m not sure if she even remembered what I was doing anyway.
It hadn’t exactly gone well, the little shit I went to speak to claiming to know absolutely nothing about Macklin despite his well-known mob connections. The guy used to run with Fitzgerald’s crew years ago, before eventually being busted for drugs, so it makes no sense that he wouldn’t at least know something about the chain of command. He’s also well known as one of the biggest snitches around, so the fact he’s keeping his mouth shut either means he legit doesn’t know anything or worse still, he’s scared shitless.
It doesn’t make sense. He’s ratted on so many people over the years, he’s lucky he’s still alive. As it stands, he’s been shanked a half a dozen times already and it wouldn’t surprise me if he gets a couple more before someone eventually succeeds. God knows if one of Fitzgerald’s men won’t do something to him after today.
Fuck, I just wish I knew where the hell Anthony Macklin was. It makes me pissed as shit knowing he’s out there somewhere and we have absolutely no idea where. How the hell am I supposed to protect Erin when I can’t find him, when I don’t even live in the same zip code as her.
I’m not even sure what the next move is. Short of going back to see Fitzgerald, pleading with him to actually give a fuck about his daughter and her safety, we are fresh out of options.
