Chapter 15 June
“Sooooo,” says Jake while reclining on my couch and stretching his arms over the back. “Do you want to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“No,” I say, glancing toward the back door, which Ryan, Sam, and Daisy just disappeared through.
Daisy is Sam’s seizure-assist dog and goes with her everywhere. This morning, they had a dentist appointment, and Daisy had to be on her best behavior, so Sam took her into the backyard to toss the ball and give her some fun after a long morning of working. Ryan said he loves dogs and wanted to go, too, but I think he was just trying to give me and Jake a minute to gossip behind his back. Why does he keep getting better and better?
“You two looked pretty cozy when I pulled up.” Jake is wearing a grin the size of the Grand Canyon.
“I said no. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, come on. How many times did you sing ‘Evie and Jake sitting in a tree’ while Evie and I were dating? I think I get to tease you a little. It’s my brotherly duty.”
“Where are Evie and Jonathan today?”
Jake laughs. “Nice deflection.”
I smile. “I learned it from the best.”
“Fine. I’ll let it go. She’s training a new group of volunteers that will help raise the newest litter of puppies. She took Jonathan with her.”
That’s how Jake and Evie first met. She runs a service dog organization called Southern Service Paws. Sam has epilepsy and needed an assist dog to help during her seizures, and Jake needed a woman to help him and Sam put their lives back together (though he didn’t realize it at the time). Evie helped in both cases. They got married a few years ago and had my little nephew, Jonathan, last year. Basically, they have the kind of life that you want to scroll past quickly on Instagram because they are so cute it makes you nauseous. And jealous. I love them.
“Cool, cool, cool,” I say, twitching with nervous energy as I keep glancing back toward the door. I think if Jake hadn’t interrupted us, Ryan and I would have kissed. We’d probably still be kissing, and I’m not sure what to do with that realization. I need to talk to Jake about all of this, but I’m too scared. It will make whatever is happening between me and Ryan real.
Jake eyes my bouncing knee with amusement and says, “You sure you don’t want to talk about him?”
“Definitely not.”
“He’s grown up since I saw him last.”
“Yep.”
“Gained a few muscles too.”
I shoot him an annoyed look.
He chortles. “All right, how did the meeting go yesterday?” He’s referring to the second interview Stacy had lined up with a potential buyer.
“It went great!” I say with over-the-top enthusiasm.
“Really?”
“Until he told me he’d pay a little more if I’d make out with him before he left.”
“Ouch. Did he bleed when you punched him?”
“I didn’t want to risk hurting my knuckles before the wedding, so I just left a nice slap mark on his cheek instead.”
Jake nods like he’s not even surprised. He knows me too well to be surprised by anything I do. “So where does this leave you now?”
“Square one. But I think Stacy is doing it on purpose—lining up bad potential buyers.”
Jake frowns. “Why?”
“She wants me to buy her half and become full owner.”
I resist looking at Jake. I know what I’ll see when I do. He’ll be all smiles and encouragement because I think he truly believes I’d be good at running Darlin’ Donuts without a partner. I wish I shared his confidence.
“Why don’t you?”
Thankfully, we get interrupted, and I don’t have to answer the questions that have been haunting me since Stacy first proposed it. Why don’t you?What am I so afraid of? Really, though, that second question can be applied to two areas of my life. And one of them is walking into my living room with a smile that makes my stomach swoop. Sam keeps stealing glances at Ryan, and I think her stomach is swooping too. Thank god he put his shirt back on.
Jake stands and says he’s got to get going. He’s leaving Sam with me for the afternoon because he needs to go into the office for a few hours. And THANK GOODNESS, because I do not trust myself to be alone with Ryan for several hours after the morning we had together.
Just before Jake leaves, he turns back to Ryan with a big smile, and they shake hands. It’s odd to me for two reasons: (1) Jake knows all about the lifelong feud between Ryan and me and looks much too pleased to be shaking his hand, and (2) the last time I saw them together was at graduation, and Jake looked so much older than Ryan. Now, they’re just two adults shaking hands.
When did we all grow up?
“It was really good to see you again, Ryan,” says Jake, and what the hell?!
Given all that I’ve told him about Ryan over the years, he should not think it’s really good to see the man.
“Is it, though?” I ask with narrowed eyes, wondering if maybe Jake is just stalling while one of his friends TPs Ryan’s car outside. Is it wrong that I kinda hope for that?
Jake grins. “Of course. Anytime another guy helps protect my little sister, he earns my respect for life.”
I look between Ryan and Jake, wondering what I’m missing. “Protect?”
Jake gives Ryan a conspiratorial look. “I’ll let you tell her. I’ve gotta get going.” He kisses Sam, pats Daisy’s head, and then leaves.
I turn to Ryan with my hands on my hips. He doesn’t look intimidated (of course), so I tell Sam to do it too. Now he should be terrified. Ryan has two Broaden girls standing in the Wonder Woman pose, and we mean business.
He looks at Sam, and I can see the moment his chocolate eyes hypnotize my preteen niece. “Your aunt is ridiculous. You know that, right?”
Sam’s arms fall at her sides, and she smiles sheepishly from below her lashes. “Yeah. She’s pretty silly a lot,” says the little traitor, who will never get to borrow my pink lipstick again. And good luck having me cover for you when you’re sixteen and out late with a boy! No more cool Aunt June for you, missy.
I pick up a pillow and throw it at Ryan’s head. “Tell me what you did.”
He laughs, dodging my attack. “Let’s just say on your sixteenth birthday when your boyfriend’s tires mysteriously deflated, it wasn’t so mysterious to me.”
“I knew you did that! Especially after you were the one to show up out of nowhere and so kindly offer me a ride home, but you made Isaac stay and wait for the tow truck!”
“It wasn’t just me. Jake helped.”
“What?” Tension is growing in my shoulders. “Why?”
“Earlier that day, I overheard Isaac and his buddies in the locker room. They had all placed a bet on whether he could . . .” He pauses and looks down at Sam, who is hanging on Ryan’s every word like he’s giving the exact directions to Shawn Mendes’s personal residence. Ryan looks back up at me and adjusts whatever he was going to say. “Well, they bet on whether he could deflower you that night.”
My jaw drops, and thankfully, Sam is oblivious. “Why would your boyfriend want to take your flowers?”
Ryan smiles, and his dimple tells me he thinks Sam is adorable. “Some not nice guys really like to take girls’ flowers.”
“That sounds so mean.”
“It is. Stay away from those guys,” says Ryan, tousling the top of Sam’s hair. Heart emojis fill her eyes. She’s dropping into full-blown crush mode.
I stare at Ryan, and he must see the panic building in me, because he asks Sam to go into the kitchen and wash her hands because he’s going to show her how to properly cut a potato. She better get the same boring lesson I got.
“How did Jake come into play in all this?” I ask the second Sam turns the corner into the kitchen.
“I told him as soon as I found out. His suggestion was that we go beat the hell out of Isaac, but I convinced him to help me slash his tires instead so I could take you home before anything happened. Figured it would be less embarrassing for you than your brother beating up your first real boyfriend. And you broke up with him shortly after, so it all worked out.”
Mm-hmm, yeah, he’s just talking and going on and on like my perception of him isn’t suddenly turning on its end. I need to go lie down. There have been too many revelations today.
I fix my gaze on Ryan, and I take in his strong jaw, dark eyes, long lashes, and the small scar on the apple of his cheek from the pop fly that almost broke his cheekbone sophomore year. I trace a line from his straight nose to his lips and scruffy jawline (yet another sign that he’s no longer the boy from high school). I’m taking in every inch of his face because I feel like I’m finally seeing him for who he really is—seeing him—the whole picture of Ryan for the first time.
“What?” he finally asks, a cautious look on his face.
I smile and shake my head. “You never were the bad guy, were you?”
The air shifts when a mischievous glint sparks in Ryan’s eyes. I stay still as he crosses the room, stops in front of me, and leans toward my ear. I’m bracing for him to tell me I have toilet paper sticking out of somewhere it shouldn’t be when I feel his hot lips land on the area just behind my jaw, below my ear. Chill bumps roll down my arms.
And then he whispers, “I was definitely the bad guy. I just wasn’t against you like you thought.”
I feel Ryan’s lips on my skin for the rest of the day and on into the night. Like he left a tattoo on my skin. It’s there, tingling and reminding me that everything has changed.
During the rehearsal, I keep my distance from Ryan. But he looks amazing in his black suit pants and button-down linen shirt, so my eyes continuously seek him out from across the room. Every time we make eye contact, I instinctively touch the spot on my neck that I have vowed to never wash again. I’m going to wrap it in caution tape just so no one ever taints that patch of skin again. I’ve christened it as Ryan’s.
My stomach does barrel rolls when it’s time for me to take Ryan’s arm and practice walking down the aisle together. He covers my hand where it’s resting on his arm, and I curse myself a million times for imagining myself wearing a white dress and mouthing na na na, boo boo to every woman who’s ever given Ryan the I’m-all-yours look. You better believe I would invite them to our wedding. I’m a gloater.
Point is, this all feels like a dream where real life is hovering just beyond the edges, ready to overtake me at any moment.
Logan and Stacy practice the vow portion of the ceremony, and Ryan’s gaze is searing into mine. I want him to look away, but he won’t. I widen my eyes in the classic STOP LOOKING AT ME sign, but he just makes a goofy kissy face back at me. I’m so mad at him for making me laugh. For taking a sledgehammer to the cement walls I’d constructed around myself. For making me flush and giggle like a ding-dong in front of this whole wedding party.
After the rehearsal, Ryan tries to make his way to me at every turn, but I avoid, sidestep, and duck behind every potted plant I can find, because the more he makes me smile and blush and tingle, the more terrified I become. I KNOW that whatever Ryan feels for me is fake. Or maybe not fake, but temporary. His life is far away from here, and it’s going to call him back in two days. I just have to resist him for that long.
A heaviness grows over me during dinner, but I refuse to let it show, because this is Stacy’s big night, and I’m determined to make it as wonderful as possible for her. I will keep a smile on my face tonight even if I have to tape the corners of my mouth to my earlobes.
But the only time I genuinely laugh the entire night is when Stacy makes Ryan stand up during dinner. “Attention, everyone! Can we all give a round of applause for having our very own Michelin chef, Ryan Henderson, make all this delicious food for us tonight?”
Ryan’s face turns blood red, and I know that he’s dying inside at having his name associated with green beans and mashed potatoes. I snap a quick picture, because this is probably the only time I’ll ever see him embarrassed. Maybe I’ll have the photo enlarged and printed. It will hang over my mantel, and it won’t be creepy at all.
FINALLY, the night is over, and everyone begins to leave. I stand from the table and kiss Stacy’s glowing cheek, forcing myself to not focus on how much losing her is going to hurt.
“Tomorrow’s the day,” I say, giving her one last hug.
“Tomorrow,” she repeats with a dreamy expression.
I look over Stacy’s shoulder and lock eyes with Ryan, sitting at a table across the room. Tomorrow takes on a whole new meaning in my mind. Tomorrow is the wedding—the end of the reason Ryan came to visit. Tomorrow, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin.
Ryan’s eyes beg me to let him take me home, but I shake my head.
Enemies or not, I am still June, and he is still Ryan. Our lives have taken different paths, and they don’t intersect. I refuse to let a man break me again. No matter how many figurines I could set on his ab shelves.