The mention of the card games caused Ryan to remember her own grandmother, who would play War with her for hours at a time. The thought made her smile inside.
“It was hard on the boys when she passed. Especially because my brother had died a few months prior. She was relatively healthy before she lost her only son. He was the baby in a family of four girls and six years younger than my youngest sister. Ben was named after him actually.”
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry. It must have been such a difficult time for everyone.” Ryan wanted to ask what happened, how that happened to someone who would’ve been so young at the time. But it wasn’t her place. Beverly had already shared so much with her.
Ryan turned to look at Beverly when she felt her hand squeeze her shoulder. “It was. But we got through it. People survive much worse.” Her lips were tight as she gave Ryan a small smile that was somehow comforting. For a woman who seemed so independent, so assertive and strict, Beverly’s maternal instincts were equally as strong.
And as the two sat, Beverly continuing to tell her family’s story while Ryan flipped through the years of Ben’s childhood like cards in a deck, Ryan realized that the gap between her upbringing and Ben’s was closing with every passing page. It didn’t matter how much money they had or that their family was still intact. The Williamsons’ road hadn’t been paved with gold either. Theirs had bends in it too—twists and turns and forks that left them wondering if their path had been the right one.
As Beverly closed the last of the albums, Ryan had an overwhelming sense of rightness. That despite all the bumps in her own road, this right here was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning brought sunlight streaming into the spare bedroom of Ben’s childhood home and muffled chatter from downstairs. Ryan rolled over, right into Ben. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was bored.”
“So you decided to climb into bed with me? I really don’t think we need to give your mom any reasons to dislike me.”
“Stop worrying. I already saw her this morning. She knows I didn’t sleep in here.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
She rocked her body into him in a sort of full-body smack. “So look.”
Arm tightening around her, Ben gently rubbed his facial hair against her face. “Moving against me like that is not the way to get me to care about the time.”
Ryan giggled. “You’re such a perv.”
Ben sighed and gave her a small kiss at her temple before rolling onto his back and reaching for his phone. “It’s seven thirty.”
“Ugh, too early.”
“Not in the Williamson household. We better get up before my mother comes looking for us. You want the shower first?”
“I thought you said not to worry. And no,” Ryan answered as she burrowed under the comforter.
“So cranky in the morning,” Ben muttered as he got out of bed. Ryan heard him moving around, and then the sound of him opening and closing the door. Ryan let herself lie there and drift in and out of sleep for a bit. She rolled over and opened her eyes to see if Ben had returned yet. What she saw made her squeal and sit up quickly in bed. Holding a hand over her pounding heart, Ryan said, “You scared me.” As her pulse returned to normal, Ryan took in the intruder: a little girl who looked to be about four. She had smooth, dark skin with honey-colored eyes and black hair pulled up so that it looked like she had a mohawk of curls. She was perhaps the most adorable child Ryan had ever seen. “What’s your name?” Ryan asked.
“Tia,” the small girl replied.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tia. I’m Ryan.” When Tia remained silent, Ryan added, “Is your mommy around?”
“She’s downstairs yelling at Aunt Natasha to eat more breakfast. But not at me because I ate all mine.”
“Oh. Well. That’s good. It’s important to eat breakfast.”
Tia nodded seriously. “That’s what my mommy said. She told Aunt Natasha that carbs aren’t the enemy and that she’s going to faint as she’s walking down the aisle if she doesn’t start eating some soon.”
Ryan nodded too. “Your mommy sounds like a smart lady.”
“She is. She’s a doctor.”
Of course she is. Ryan wondered if anyone related to the Williamsons—either by blood or marriage—did anything that required less than a master’s degree. Besides Ben, she supposed. They were probably the only family she’d ever meet who considered being a professional athlete an underachievement.
“What’s your job?” Tia asked.
Christ. Lying to a four-year-old wasn’t exactly how Ryan pictured her day starting. “I’m a librarian.”
The little girl’s eyes lit up. “Like Miss Prendy! She reads to us whenever we want. She’s the best.”
Unsure of how to respond, Ryan decided to smile back at the little girl.
But Tia wasn’t done yet. “Do you have a favorite book?”
Ryan felt the smile vanish from her face. “Um, yeah. I mean, of course.” Ryan racked her brain to remember a title—any title—of a book she’d loved when she was younger. “Amelia Bedelia books are my favorite.”
Tia’s face screwed up. “I don’t know those.”
Ryan managed to keep herself from grimacing. “Well, maybe I’ll be able to find one and read it to you sometime.”
That seemed to make Tia happy again as she jumped a little. “Yeah!”
Laughing, Ryan said, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
They were interrupted from any further conversation by Ben bursting into the room wearing only sweatpants and rubbing his hair with a towel. When he saw Tia, he visibly startled. “Hey, Ti. What are you doing up here?”
“Hiding.”
Hiding? That was news to Ryan.
“Who are you hiding from?” Ben asked.
“My mommy.”
“Why?”
“Because she keeps messing with me.”
“Oh, I see.” Ben smirked. He opened his mouth to say more, but his voice was cut off by someone yelling for Tia.
“Oh no, they found me,” Tia yelled as she tried to climb under the bed.
Ryan looked down and saw Tia’s feet poking out from under the bed. She couldn’t help but smile. The kid was a trip.
“Tia Louise?” a voice called again, closer this time. Then Beverly appeared at the door. “Have you all seen Tia?”
Ryan pointed down while saying, “Nope. Haven’t seen her.”
“Hmm,” Beverly hummed. “That’s funny, because those look like Tia’s shoes under your bed.”
A giggle came from under the bed. Beverly smiled but her voice was firm when she spoke. “Okay, Tia. Time to come out. Your mommy’s looking for you.”
“But I don’t want her to do my hair anymore,” Tia whined.
“She won’t, honey. We’re getting ready to go see Aunt Natasha’s dress. So come on.”
Tia wiggled out from under the bed and stood. “Bye, Ryan. I gotta go now.”
“Bye, Tia. I’ll see you later.”
Tia skipped out of the room, but Beverly remained. She raised an eyebrow at Ben, who was still shirtless and holding a towel. “Is your own shower not working properly?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, which told Ryan the question was more of a statement about etiquette than an inquiry into the bathroom’s plumbing issues. “Ryan, I thought you might want to come to Natasha’s final dress fitting with us. We could get to know each other a little better.”
“Oh, uh . . .” She looked at Ben, but he just stared blankly back at her. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“Great. We’re going to leave in about forty minutes. Can you be ready by then?”
“Absolutely.”
Beverly smiled primly. “Wonderful. See you downstairs, then.” She retreated before Ryan could reply.
Once she was out of earshot, Ben said, “Well, that sounds like a lot of fun.” His tone was dry
and a smirk played on his lips.
“I hate you,” Ryan replied as she pulled herself out of bed and started gathering her toiletries and clothes from her suitcase.
“Ben?” a voice called from the hallway.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“You about ready to go?”
Ben’s shoulders slumped a little, but he kept his voice bright when he replied. “Yeah. Be there in a few minutes.”
“Great. We’ll meet you out front.”
Ryan stood and walked over to Ben. “Well, that sounds like fun.”
“I hate you,” Ben said, echoing her earlier words before dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t let my mom intimate you. She’s like a shark. She can smell fear.”
“I thought that was dogs.”
Ben shrugged. “Dogs, sharks, whatever. Be yourself and she’ll love you.” Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, which caused him to add, “You know what I mean.”
“So that wasn’t you giving me permission to tell your mother I’m an escort?”
Wrapping his arms around her, Ben pulled her close. “No, it was not.”
Ryan laughed and tried to pull away, but Ben held onto her. She looked up at him to see his brow furrowed and his lips twisted to one side as if he was contemplating something.
“You know I’m okay with who you are, right?”
That was . . . weird. “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word.
“I just . . . I want to make sure you know that I like who you are. I don’t want you to feel like, since we made up a whole persona for you, that I wish you were different or somebody else. Truthfully, I don’t think I could do this with anyone but you. So, thank you . . . for being you.”
The admission was awkward and rambling, but it was also sweet and heartfelt. It was exactly what Ryan had needed to hear even though she hadn’t realized it until he’d said the words. “Thank you for being you too.” Their eyes stayed locked on one another for a few more moments until Ryan pulled away so she could be ready in time.
She showered, dressed quickly, and shot Camille a “I’m alive and not in a ditch” text. But the men had still already left by the time she arrived downstairs. It was awkward to enter a room full of women she barely knew, but Ryan tried not to let herself be intimidated. She’d been in rougher situations than this one. A few unfamiliar females should be a piece of cake. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Ryan walked into the kitchen.
There were seven women and Tia in the room, all trying to talk at once. At least until they noticed Ryan standing there. Then they all fell silent and stared at her. Ryan gave them a self-conscious wave.
Thankfully, Beverly filled the quiet. “Ryan, come and get some breakfast, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Ryan moved toward the island where food was laid out and put some fruit on a plate before joining Beverly at the table.
“You met Natasha already.”
Natasha nodded at her with a friendly smile, which Ryan returned.
“This is her mother ,Clara, and her sister, Renee, who’s Natasha’s matron of honor. And Tia’s mom,” she added with a smile at the little girl. “Then there are the other bridesmaids: Jasmine, Deirdre, Sascha, and Joy. And you already met the flower girl,” Beverly said as she pointed at Tia. “Everyone, this is Ryan, Ben’s girlfriend.”
They all exchanged hellos and quickly resumed whatever conversation they’d been in before Ryan had come in. They seemed to be debating the pros and cons of a French manicure, though Ryan zoned out to give herself a mental pep talk as she ate her fruit. She could do this. They were only people, and Ryan had worked with people most of her life—mostly in the capacity of serving them drinks and being nice when she didn’t necessarily want to be. So this really shouldn’t be all that different. Not that Ryan didn’t like the people she’d met in the last twenty-four hours, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t have to like them. She only had to pretend she did and make them like her in return. Easy.
A little later, Renee clapped her hands and declared it was time to leave. They all walked outside where a limo awaited to take them to the dress shop. Ryan thought it was overkill to hire a limo to take them to try on a dress, but whatever rich people wanted to do with their money wasn’t her concern. She took a seat next to Beverly and Tia squeezed in on the other side of her.
“Can you read me Emily Bedily now?”
“You mean Amelia Bedelia?”
Tia nodded. Ryan was about to reply, but Clara broke in. “Tia, Ryan doesn’t have any books with her right now.”
Tia’s face fell and she sat back in her seat, pulling away from Ryan a little. A thought struck Ryan, and she dug her phone out of her purse and opened Google. She did a quick search and then showed the phone to Tia. “I found one online. Is this one okay?” It was Play Ball, Amelia Bedelia, which had always been one of Ryan’s favorites. She could almost hear her grandmother reading it to her as they sat together in the rocking chair on their porch.
Nodding vigorously, Tia tucked herself into Ryan’s side so she could see the pictures as Ryan read. Since she was supposed to be a librarian, and she figured she should be animated when it came to reading to children, Ryan let herself get swept up in the story, changing voices for different characters, and asking Tia questions about the pictures as they went. Ryan got so engrossed, she didn’t even notice that everyone was quiet as they watched her read to Tia until she finished the story. She looked at everyone sheepishly as she put away her phone. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”
“No need to be sorry,” one of the girls—Sascha, Ryan thought her name was—said. “I was enjoying it. It’s been years since I’ve read one of those books.”
The other women murmured assent, and Ryan was happy to see Beverly smiling warmly at her. Ryan’s reading must have sparked a hint of nostalgia for everyone because they started discussing memories and favorite pastimes.
Ryan let herself get swept up into the conversation, even going so far as to share fond memories of her own that she was surprised she had in common with the other girls. If anyone had told her she’d be in a limo bonding with a group of wealthy women over Easy-Bake Ovens and Malibu Barbies, Ryan wouldn’t have believed them. But here she was, doing just that. And as Ryan sat there soaking in all their stories, she was filled with a feeling she’d had only fleetingly in her adult life: acceptance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben trudged into the pro shop behind his father and brother, who were discussing drivers and trajectory. Despite always having taken to physical pursuits well, golf was something Ben had never excelled at. It was one more thing that his dad and brother had in common and Ben didn’t.
He needed to rent clubs while his brother and dad walked outside to wait for him. The pro asked him a few questions in order to match him with the perfect set of clubs. Ben wanted to tell the guy that the only way they could be perfect was if they played on their own, but he kept his remarks to himself.
By the time Ben walked out onto the green, David and their dad were waiting in a golf cart. “Took you long enough,” David groused.
Ben rolled his eyes and climbed on the back of the cart.
“Hang on,” his dad called.
Ben resisted the urge to sigh heavily. What was his dad worried about? That he was going to fall off the back of a golf cart going ten miles an hour? They drove toward the first hole, his dad and brother talking about something Ben had no clue about, and Ben contemplating putting his dad’s warning to good use and jumping off the cart.
Ben zoned out on the conversation and took in the landscaping of the beautiful course as his dad drove them across it. Ben’s family had belonged to this club for over twenty years. They were also the first black family to become members, which had been both a source of pride and a source of discomfort for Ben growing up. While being the first hopefully opened the door for more minorities, it was also difficult for him to always feel like he stood out. There was always an “otherness”
that seemed to cloak him and his family. Ben had clung to David in the beginning—relying on his brother to keep him safe and help him feel less lonely.
Though Ben had found his own crowd and his own way—mostly through hockey—he’d never fit in as seamlessly as David had. It was like David was a chameleon, able to adapt to any situation he found himself in. Ben had always envied him because of that.
“Find much time to play down in Philadelphia, Ben?” his dad asked, startling Ben back into the present.
“Oh, uh, no. Other than a charity game in the fall, I haven’t played since the last time we went together.”
His dad scoffed as if he couldn’t believe anyone would be able to stay away from the game for that long. “That was well over a year ago. If I remember correctly, there are a few nice courses down in that area.”
“Yeah, there are. Golf just . . . really isn’t my game.” It was yet another thing that lengthened the divide between him and his dad. His father lived for golf. Ben could appreciate the talent it took to excel at it—as he could for every sport—but it was a little too slow and leisurely for him.
Ben’s dad shook his head as he stopped the cart at the first hole. “You never did enjoy relaxing things. It was always full throttle with you.”
While the words weren’t necessarily a dig, the tone they were said with let Ben know his dad, at the very least, didn’t understand why anyone would prefer things that way.
Ben was a physical guy, but he wasn’t reckless. However, that seemed to be his slot in the family. David was the responsible one, and Ben was reckless. With his body, his career choice, his attitude, everything. It didn’t matter that Ben was more down-to-earth than most of the guys he knew. His parents would always view him as the one who was contrary.
They played for a while, David and their dad talking and Ben mostly pretending to listen and contributing enough so he couldn’t be considered rude. On the fourth hole, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw a selfie Ryan had taken of her and Tia. It looked like the two of them were hiding in a rack of wedding dresses. Ben found himself smiling at it before typing “Cute pic” back to her.
The Proposition Page 18
