Chapter 48
48
NICKY
“T ake a right over here on Elm Street,” I tell Ronan from the passenger seat. “Then pull over up there.” I point through the windshield to the weed-covered driveway further up the street.
We’re on our way to my big family dinner, and I’m calling out directions as Ronan drives. But at the last second, I decide to make him take a detour.
Ronan eyeballs me suspiciously as we approach a little house with a For Sale sign posted out front.
“Uh. This isn’t where your Grammy lives.” In an instant, absolute terror comes across his eyes. “Are you taking me to an abandoned property to murder me? Come on, Peach. I made sure to not leave a hickey where anyone can see it.”
He waggles his brows at my sweater, to the place near my nipple where he actually did leave a mark.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you deserve at least a knee to the nuts for that one.”
“You liked it,” he taunts.
“Wrong answer.”
Pouting, he covers his family jewels protectively with one palm while still keeping the other hand on the steering wheel.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “Pull in the driveway. I promise I won’t kill you today. I want to show you something.”
“Alrighty,” he says. He’s still skeptical but at least he swerves into the driveway.
As soon as he puts the car in park, I climb out and walk up to the front porch.I grab Ronan’s wrist and drag him after me. “This is the house I really like,” I tell him. “I’ve been obsessing over the pictures for weeks. It makes me nervous, but I’m pretty sure I want to buy it.”
On a whim, I brought Ronan here. Partly to see if anyone’s beat me to buying it, and partly to show it to him.
He follows behind me, and I excitedly show him the big front porch I fell in love with at first sight.
I tell him all about the bedrooms and the antique fixtures and the square footage. I can almost recite the real estate listing by heart, that’s how many times I’ve pored over it.
Then, with a wistful sigh, I’m getting ready to head back to the car. It’s hard walking away from this place when I can see myself so clearly building a life here. I just hope that I can pull the downpayment together quickly. So that my dream of owning this house doesn’t end up on the pile of the dreams I have to force myself to grow out of.
All of a sudden, Ronan pulls a pocket knife out of his pants. I instinctively stumble a step backwards when he starts to pick the lock on the front door.
“Ronan! We can’t do that!”
He looks back at me over his shoulder. “Why not?”
“Because it’s illegal!”
“Come on. How illegal can it be?”
I roll my eyes.“Okay, jailbird. I’m too pretty to get incarcerated. Plus, I’m not missing out on family dinner tonight.”
I’m yanking him away by his sleeve when an older gentleman in a business suit opens the front door, file folder in hand. Ronan quickly conceals his lock-picking gadgets.
The man standing in the doorway smiles at us. “Are you here for the open house?”
Open house?
“Yes,” Ronan says confidently, his hand settling at the small of my back. “Sorry we’re so early. My wife was way too excited to wait.”
Wife?
Suddenly, my head is spinning.
“A little early,” the man says, “but that just means you beat the crowd.”
He introduces himself as Gary, the realtor, and he ushers Ronan and me inside.
“Are you two love birds ready for the tour?” Gary asks as we follow after him. He looks at me. “The couple who lived here before had twins. You’re going to absolutely love the nursery.”
I don’t know why, but when he says that, heat blasts into my cheeks and I stumble, stubbing my toe in the doorway. Ronan’s arms sweep around my waist, keeping me upright.
The sexy devil rubs my lower back, smirking. “Want to see the nursery, wifey?”
Oh, I’m squirming and he’s loving it.
Adjusting my scarf, I turn my eyes to Gary. “Do you mind if we walk around a little bit to check everything out?”
“No problem at all,” the realtor says. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Ronan and I guide ourselves around the empty house. I ooh and ahh , walking from room to room while he follows closely behind me.
“I know the kitchen needs some work, but it’ll be fun to put my own touch in here. I’d maybe paint these teal.” I point at the bar stools by the kitchen island. “Get some fancy new hardware.”
“Kitchen renos add up quickly,” he says warily, opening and closing cabinet doors, looking inside them. “Are you sure that’s in your budget?”
My shoulder lifts then falls. “Well, I might have to just work on one thing at a time…but I’ll figure it out.”
I take him to the main bedroom next, already imagining what color might look best on these walls.
“Isn’t this so roomy?” I spread my arms out, spinning around the empty space. It’s not as big as the bedroom at Ronan’s guesthouse, but it’s loads bigger than my old Chicago bedroom. “I think a whole California king could fit in here.”
Ronan frowns, looking around the space. “I don’t know, Nicky. Those cracks in the ceiling are a concern. You’d want to get the foundation inspected to make sure there’s nothing structural going on there.”
I can’t help but notice that he criticizes every stinking thing that I like about the house. I can’t tell if he’s just being a buttface, or if this is just his way of telling me that he doesn’t want me to leave his house yet.
But that would make no sense.
So I just chalk it up to his grumpy old man attitude, and make fun of him for it as we wander through the empty house.
I stick my tongue out at him. “You’re like an eighty-year-old man, just making up things to complain about. It’s like you secretly want to keep me locked away in your guesthouse forever.”
Grabbing my hand, he reels me into his arms.“I don’t think that’s a secret, Peach.”
My heart shouldn’t flutter the way it does. My cheeks heat up.
“What?” Ronan asks me, observing my face in that searching way he always does.
I hold his stare for a while, then I say, “I’m not sure this practice relationship is paying off.” I laugh. “It still makes me blush like crazy when you say those sweet, silly things to me. Shouldn’t it feel normal by now?” I frown, concerned. Exactly how broken am I really?
But Ronan is there with his patient self as always, saying exactly the right thing. “If you need more practice hearing nice things about yourself, I’m always here to help. Here goes.” He gets into his practice boyfriend character right away. “I don’t want you to move out.” He kisses my forehead. “I want you to stay with me.” He kisses my nose. “Because I like when you’re the first person I see in the morning.” He kisses my eyebrow. “I like skating with you in the afternoon.” He kisses my jaw. “And I definitely like the things we do at night.” He kisses my lips, sweeping his tongue inside and making me dizzy in the process.
When we pull apart, I’m in a haze. I blink up into his eyes. And he’s a really good actor because the way he’s looking at me seems so convincing.
“Wow. You’re good, Hockey Guy,” I say, my voice cracking with desire. “You’d get all the brownie points for saying that to your real girlfriend one day.”
There’s a bittersweet quality to his smile. “Yeah, well. Practice makes perfect, right?”
“Right.”
We finish up at the house and thank the realtor on the way out. Then we make the short drive to Grammy’s house.
I had no idea what to expect with this dinner, but it’s going surprisingly well. Everybody’s here. Like, everybody . My brothers and their wives. My parents. My cousins with my uncle and aunt-in-law. I even get to meet Grammy’s adorable boyfriend, Sherwin, for the first time.
The meal is loud and rowdy and just an oh so typical Westbrook family dinner.Ronan gets welcomed right into the fold. Of course he does. He has the kind of personality that pulls you in.
There is absolutely no-one in this world like Captain Ronan Brighton. I can’t imagine his twin ever overshadowing him, but I believe him when he says it’s something he’s struggled with his whole life.
Everyone at dinner is chattering and laughing. But it’s not show-n-tell, like the last time Ronan sat at this dinner table.The conversation stays away from hockey and no one puts Ronan on a pedestal. Tonight we just talk about… life. And Ronan isn’t some big celebrity sitting in our midst. He’s just one of us. He’s just part of the family.
While I’m so, so, so proud of his career and the progress he’s made over the season, I’m enjoying this down-to-earth version of Captain Brighton tonight.
We’re halfway through dinner when Ronan looks toward Emma. “Hey, I was wondering, will there be a sequel to His Blazing Bedsheets ?”
My bestie blinks. And then she blinks again. “Um, yes. There will be a sequel. I’m in the middle of my first draft now.”
Ronan nods, grinning. “Good. Good. I just feel like Marissa and Jose deserve their happily ever after, y’know? I mean, especially after all they went through with the whole kidnapping subplot.”
“Totally agree,” Harry pipes up from across the table and Nadia nods along with him.
Emma smiles broadly. “A lot of readers have been saying that in their reviews.”
“Cash thinks that Marissa should dump Jose and move on with that shady character from the accounting firm.” Meghan look to her husband for help. “What’s his name again?”
“Rawlings,” Cash throws in. “He’s a way more intriguing character. I find Jose pretty one-dimensional. Marissa deserves better than that.”
“Okay, come on guys. I’m only at chapter seven. You’re ruining all the spoilers,” Dad says, looking a little pissed off.
Grumbles spread around the table but Emma discretely makes eye contact with me. I love him for you!!! she mouths across the distance. I pull my lips into my mouth to keep from smiling.
Toward the end of the meal, Simon shows up. I’m guessing he stayed late at Jasper’s mechanic shop to close things down for him.
Ugh. Awkward.
He comes around to give Grammy a peck on her cheek, and as he does he gives me a weak smile.
I smile back then turn away.
Standing at the sink, I’m clearing plates at the end of dinner. Simon finds me alone in the kitchen. He approaches, but keeps his distance, lingering by the counter.
“Nicky…?” he calls out to me.
I release a heavy sigh. “Yes, Simon.” I feel my lips flatten into a line.
“You, uh, you look good.” His eyes sweep over me from head to toe.
“Thanks.” I leave it at that.
It’s a little awkward, seeing him after all this time. But the weird part is, I feel…nothing. No patter in the chest. No sweaty palms. No butterflies in the tummy. I feel neutral. Simon and I are ancient history. This is confirmation.
He glances over his shoulder and then shuffles a little closer. “You think we could talk?”
“We really have nothing to talk about, Simon.” I state it calmly, with no emotion. It’s not my hurt feelings talking. It’s just the facts.
There’s a bit of commotion in the hallway and then Sparkle runs by. Emma hurries after the little girl on the way to the bathroom.
Startled, Simon quickly picks up one of the freshly-baked pies on the counter. He’s clearly only trying to make himself look busy in case anyone walks in on us.
A feeling of disgust rises in my tummy.
Still the same shit. Still trying to sneak around. Still trying to keep me a secret. This shit is so old. Glad I’m over it.
If there’s one thing that my practice relationship with Ronan has taught me, it’s that I don’t have to be treated like this ever again.I don’t have to be some guy’s dirty little secret.
At that moment, the man himself saunters into the kitchen. Ronan’s suspicious eyes bounce between us. And then his territorial stance comes out loud and clear.
“Need a hand in here, Peach?” He takes a few steps closer to me at the sink, all big and broad and possessive.
And even though I don’t feel threatened by Simon in the slightest, Ronan’s presence envelopes me in a kind of protection I didn’t know I needed.
A smile spills across my face even though I try to hold it in. “Yeah, I could use a hand.”
Neither of the men speak to each other. Simon only tips his chin in Ronan’s direction, giving him a respectful nod before walking away and taking the pie into the dining room.
Ronan sets a hand at the small of my back and presses his lips to my forehead. He doesn’t bother checking whether anyone will see. I lean into his strong chest.
I feel treasured. Like something worth defending. Something worth taking a risk for. Something worth sticking up for. Something worth going a little over the top to protect.
I like it here.