Chapter 50
Fifty
I’ll Remember
Ryan
We spent the rest of the week holed up in the condo.
I don't think we put clothes on once. When we needed energy, I just threw on an apron to cook, bare ass hanging out.
Spence fucked me on every surface possible-bed, floor, shower walls, kitchen table, counters.
He even fucked me in the butler's pantry after walking in on me down on my hands and knees looking for a pan.
When my ass needed a break, Spence rode me until he was spent. Watching this buttoned-up man come undone on my cock is a kind of euphoria I don't have words for.
And now there's kissing in the mix. So much kissing. Sometimes that's all we do. Just kiss. Slow. Deep. Endless. It's glorious. I will never get tired of his lips.
Today is the first time we've seen the light of day since the benefit.
We're on our way to visit the Bettys before heading to Anthony and Chance's for family dinner, and Spence has one hand on the steering wheel, the other laced with mine across the center console.
This. This right here is what I knew I was missing.
This is what my heart was yearning for. Not fame.
Not football. Not money. This. A hand in mine.
Someone choosing me. Someone who looks at me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him.
I lift our intertwined hands and press a kiss against his knuckles. His head turns briefly. Even behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, I can feel his eyes on me. That crooked little smirk appears. God, he's beautiful.
“Eyes on the road, handsome,” I tease.
“Stop distracting me.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “I'm distracting?”
“Obviously.”
A few minutes later he pulls into the retirement village parking lot. My chest does that familiar warm thing it always does when we come here. The Bettys have become family.
After parking, we climb out and quickly find each other's hands again. I hold the door open for him. He lets me. Spence brushes his shoulder against mine as he passes, and my stomach flutters like an idiot. I can't wait to tell the Bettys about us.
The second we step inside; I spot Clara behind the front desk. Usually, she lights up the moment she sees me. Today she doesn't. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. My steps slow. Something's wrong. The warmth I'd been carrying all morning begins to cool.
Clara comes around the desk slowly. When she reaches me, she wraps both arms around my waist and squeezes. Hard. Much harder than usual. Then she rocks me gently, back and forth, like she's comforting a child. My stomach drops.
When she finally pulls away, I grip her arms and look down at her. Confusion and concern spread through me. “Clara?” The word comes out small.
She reaches over and rubs Spence's arm. “Hi, Spencer.” He gives her a polite smile, but he looks just as confused as I feel.
Clara doesn't answer my question. Instead, she walks toward one of the benches in the lobby and lowers herself onto it. Then she pats the seat beside her. “Come sit, baby boy.”
My pulse starts racing. My skin prickles. Something inside me already knows. I just don't want it to.
I walk over and sit beside her. Across from us, Spence remains standing. Watching—alert, and ready. Clara takes both my hands in hers. They're warm. Steady. Her eyes fill with sympathy. “Miss Betty passed last night, Ryan.”
Everything stops. My eyes close as pain punches through my chest. When I open them again, the world is blurry. A tear slips down my cheek. “Which...” My voice breaks. “Which one?”
Clara wipes away the tear with her thumb. “Betty with a Y, sweetie.”
The dam breaks. A sob tears out of me. I fold forward as tears spill freely down my face. Spence moves. Fast. He drops into a crouch in front of me without hesitation. One hand lands on my knee. The other rubs slow circles over my thigh, grounding me, keeping me here.
“Oh, honey,” Clara murmurs. She shakes her head slightly. “The heart on you, boy.” Her eyes soften. “Too good for this world.”
Spence squeezes my leg. “Don't I know it.”
That just makes me cry harder. I drag in a shaky breath. “What happened?”
Clara rubs my arm. “Old age, baby.”
A watery laugh escapes me. Of course. Still hurts. Still feels unfair.
Clara smiles sadly. “She went peacefully in her sleep.”
I nod. A fresh tear slides free. “That's good.” My voice shakes. “I'm glad.”
Clara hums softly. “I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. Like I said, she only passed last night, and we have protocols we have to follow.” She squeezes my hands. “I didn't know you were coming today or I would've—”
I immediately shake my head. “It's okay. I'm glad we're here.” I wipe at my face. “I want to see the others.” Another shaky breath. “Offer my condolences.”
“Of course, Ryan.” Her eyes glisten.
We both stand and I pull her into another hug, completely losing it again. The tears come hard, hot, relentless. Clara simply holds me, one hand rubbing my back.
“Shh,” she whispers. “It's okay.”
After a minute, I finally manage to pull myself together enough to step back. I scrub at my eyes. “I'm okay.” It's a lie, but it's the best I've got.
Then I hold out my hand to Spence. “Let's go see our girls.”
His eyes soften immediately. He doesn't hesitate, not even for a second. He just takes my hand, firmly, strong, supportive, sure. Exactly what I need.
Clara watches the exchange. A smile finally breaks through her sadness. She waves a hand between us. “This.” Her voice wobbles. “This makes my heart want to explode.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Mine too.”
Then I take a deep breath, tighten my grip on Spence's hand, and together, we walk toward the community room to see the remaining Bettys.
I push the doors open to the community room and I can feel the weight of the loss hanging in the air.
Everyone is gathered in small clusters, some sitting at tables nursing cups of coffee, others standing with hands clasped over each other's shoulders.
Quiet conversations drift through the room, memories and stories, people trying to comfort one another while grieving a friend they've known for years.
My eyes find Betti and Bette. Sadness is etched into both of their expressions. They're standing beside their usual table, Betti's hand wrapped tightly around the back of Betty's chair. Her chair. The sight nearly undoes me all over again.
I walk straight to them. Neither woman says a word. I don't either. I just wrap both arms around them and pull them into a hug at the same time. They fold into me immediately.
“Oh, Ryan,” Bette says softly, her voice cracking.
“I'm so sorry,” I whisper, squeezing them gently.
I feel both women nod where they're tucked against my chest. For a moment, none of us move. Then I reluctantly loosen my hold and step back.
Betti rubs my arm. “I'm so happy you're here,” she says. “She loved you so much.”
A lump forms in my throat. I offer a small smile. “I loved her too.” I glance toward the empty chair. “Who's going to give me a hard time now?”
Both women laugh. The sound is wet with tears but genuine. Betti points toward Spence. “Oh, I don't know.” Her eyes twinkle. “Seems you found someone to keep you on your toes.”
Spence smiles and shakes his head.
I chuckle and reach back, finding his hand immediately. I tug him closer until he's standing beside me. “I'd say he gives her a run for her money.”
The ladies laugh again. Bette wipes beneath her eyes. “You know,” she says, “she wouldn't shut up about the two of you after you first brought him by.”
I smirk. Of course she didn't.
Betti nods enthusiastically. “Yep. She's doing a told-you-so dance somewhere right now.”
I let out a laugh, because she's probably right. Betty had clocked us before either of us were willing to admit what was happening.
“I'm not sure if you knew, Ryan,” Bette says quietly. The humor leaves her face. “Betty didn't have any family left.”
My brow furrows.
“You were her only visitor.”
The words hit me like a punch. My eyes instantly fill again. “What?” I blink rapidly. “No. I didn't know that.”
Betti reaches up and pats my cheek. “Yes, dear.” Her smile is gentle. “She always looked forward to your visits.” She glances at Spence. “And Tyler's too.”
Spence and I exchange a look.
“We only brought him by the one time,” Spence says.
Bette smiles. “He's been coming back by himself.”
“What?” I ask.
“He brings fun hats and scarves that he made,” Betti says. “And he plays cards with us.”
Bette nods. “A good egg, that one.”
Spence blows out a breath through his nose. “I really shouldn't be surprised.”
I bump my shoulder into his. “He's had a good influence in his life.”
That earns me a look.
Betti reaches up and squeezes my forearm. “I have something for you.”
I look down at her. “What is it?”
“Stay put.” She pats my arm. “I'll be right back.”
“I'll be right here.”
She disappears down the hall.
A few minutes later, Spence heads to get coffee while I sit with Bette.
We spend the time telling stories, remembering Betty.
The time she pranked the residents she didn’t like by telling them it was ‘Disco Day’ in the community center—and to come dressed appropriately.
The time she hid another resident's hearing aids because he complained about her blasting Dean Martin at top volume. The time she threatened to take me out back and whoop me after I beat her at cards. By the time Spence returns with coffee, we’re laughing through tears.
When Betti returns, she's carrying a box. It's beautiful—turquoise with gold flecks swirling through it. She sits beside me and carefully slides it across the table.
I stare at it, confused.
“Open it,” she says.
My heart starts beating harder. I glance at Spence. He looks just as curious. Slowly, I lift the lid.
The first thing I see is an envelope. My name is written across the front in shaky handwriting. Below it sits a stack of recipes, handwritten on recipe cards, notebook paper and scraps of parchment. Dozens of them.
I swallow hard. Carefully, I lift the envelope out. Inside is a single recipe. The title at the top reads:
BETTY’S POLISH COFFEE CAKE.
A sob catches in my throat. Tears immediately spill down my face.
Beside me, Betti wraps her tiny hand around my wrist. “She gave us strict instructions,” she says softly, “that when her time came, these were for you and only you.”
I can't speak. I can barely breathe. I just nod, over and over. When I go to slide the recipe back into the envelope, a small folded note slips free and flutters onto the table. I unfold it carefully.
The second I read it, I lose it. Not with tears, with laughter. Big, loud, uncontrollable laughter.
The note reads:
Ryan, If you share this recipe with anyone, I will haunt you until the end of time. I love you, Queen B
Tears stream down my face as I laugh. I set the note on the table. Bette, Betti, and Spence all lean forward to read it.
A beat passes. Then all four of us erupt into full-bellied laughter—the kind that hurts, the kind that heals, the kind that comes from loving someone enough to miss them.
Around the room, several residents look over at us like we've completely lost our minds.
And honestly? I think Betty would have loved that.