16. Spanish Omelet （Melissa）
Chapter sixteen
Spanish Omelet (Melissa)
“ I t brings us back to the entrance hall,” Griswold said, having finished giving me the tour of the entire mansion.
I had lost count of all the rooms, but I could distinctly recall counting fourteen bedrooms, four more than I had at my dad’s home.
My legs were on fire right now. In hindsight, I should have worn something more comfortable than these shoes.
But it was worth it, getting to see the house where Ryan grew up.
The grandeur of its scale was humbling. Some of the more vibrant rooms in the house included a small museum that had relics from all over the world, a movie theater with a two-hundred-inch screen and the comfiest recliners, an indoor pool, a viaduct that connected the north wing with the south wing, and a huge game room boasting rifles hanging from the wall, pinball machines, a big billiard table, and old school arcade games that were still functional.
That all paled in comparison to the kitchen.
Almost as big as a hall, the kitchen had enough equipment to cook meals for a party of more than a hundred people. In one quaint and cozy corner, Martha was busy tending to a sizzling wok. The aroma of the warm, spicy food made my mouth wet. I found myself involuntarily smacking my lips.
“I had a notion you’d be famished,” Martha said. “New York isn’t all that near as people make it out to be. Took me three hours to get there the last time I went to visit. Why don’t you come here and make yourself at home, girlie. I’ll treat you to some shrimp fried rice,” Martha said.
“That’d be lovely,” I said, my stomach grumbling. Hopefully, Griswold hadn’t heard it.
He stood there patiently, waiting for me to finish my impromptu meal, comprised of freshly baked warm bread, shrimp fried rice, and a pitcher of delicious lemonade.
“I overheard you praising my scones. That was kind of you,” Martha said as she handed me a box.
“Here. Try the croissants; they’re stuffed with chocolate and strawberry jam.
And the mini-peach pies. Just so there’s no confusion, the pie is tiny, not the peaches it was made from.
And a bunch of scones for good measure.”
“If I lived here, I’d never leave,” I said, stuffing a scone in my mouth.
“Stay for breakfast, try my Spanish omelet, and you may never leave,” Martha said, patting me on the shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“I will take you up on that offer,” I told her, then thanked her for all she’d done.
Afterward, Griswold decided to take me to the garage and show me all the cars that Ryan’s dad had collected over the years. It was just as impressive as Dad’s. Now, after doing a full round of the house, we were in the hall; it seemed like Griswold wanted to retire for the night.
“I trust you shall find your way through this maze of corridors?” he asked. “It’s so easy for anyone to get lost in a house this big.”
“Right down that corridor, take a right, and that’s where the guest room is, am I right?”
“You have a good head on your shoulders, ma’am,” Griswold said.
“Takes one to know one,” I said.
I watched him walk down the corridor. My ankles were hurting, and I finally stopped in front of the guest room door. I knocked thrice, almost expecting to be at the wrong door, but upon the third knock, Ryan opened the door, and I stepped inside.
“Well, you were gone for more than an hour,” Sara said.
“Griswold was giving me a tour of the house,” I said, putting down a box full of baked goods on the bedside table.
“Oh, good lord. And here Ryan and I were worrying that you were lost somewhere in the house,” Sara said, looking relieved. “And how did you find our humble abode?”
“More marvelous than I had imagined,” I said.
“Ryan,” Sara said, turning to him. “It’s getting late, and we have barely begun to scratch the surface. I want you to stay, both of you. Will you do that?”
Ryan looked uncertainly at me. I nodded.
“We can stay,” I added.
“And what about you, Ryan?” Sara asked. “I do not want to wake up in the morning and discover that my brother has been a runner yet again.”
“Of course, I will stay,” Ryan said, holding her hands. “As you said, we have so much to talk about!”
“Good! Then Martha will have breakfast laid out in the dining room at eight. You’ve got to try her Spanish omelet, Melissa. It’s to die for,” Sara said.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve heard,” I said.
“Goodnight, you two. I am going to my room and try to get over the incredulity of it all. My brother is back again,” she stated, her wheelchair halfway out the door.
“Did you know, once I had found out that you parked your car out of the house every other week, I waited for years on end to see when you’d finally come inside.
I’d sit by the CCTV screens, looking at your silhouette behind the wheel, and I’d talk to you.
‘Come in, Ryan. I’m waiting for you.’ Tonight, you did.
It just…” her voice broke a little. “it makes me happy down to my very bones.”
“I love you, Sara,” Ryan said, kissing her forehead.
“And I you, brother dear,” she said, squeezing his hand.
For some reason, I did not feel like an intruder during this very private moment.
I was a witness to it, sure, but I was also aware that it had happened because of me.
Seeing them together did not make me uncomfortable.
It only made me happy. Seeing Ryan reunited with his family, watching him exhibit emotions that I’d never seen before — and being with him as he overcame his fear and reconciled with the last living member of his family — not only made me understand him better, but it also made me appreciate him.
I could only see him in one light now. A warm, affectionate, empathetic light that made me want to love him more than I already did.
“Thank you,” Ryan offered as she closed the door and turned around to face me.
“I know we haven’t had the chance to speak in private since we arrived.
All night, I have wanted to thank you. You…
you didn’t push or coerce me. You just gave me the faith and courage I had needed all along to go in and meet Sara.
While you were out, I got another chance to apologize to her, and she got another chance to tell it to me straight that she had never held it against me.
It was about time I let it go. What really makes me hopeful is that she’s going to have another surgery earlier next year.
This time, they’re going to install a newer version of the implant that will allow her to stand and walk for longer. ”
“Ryan, you don’t have to thank me. If anything, I should be thanking you for letting me in on such a beautiful moment: to see you and your sister rejoined after three decades. Do you know how long three decades are? Even I am not that old enough!”
“I have been meaning to say something to you. I would have said it earlier, you know,” Ryan said. He was standing close to me right now, his fingers entwined with mine and his lips right next to my ears.
“I love you,” I said, unable to hold myself back. “There. I said it first.”
“Take it back, jeez,” Ryan said, frowning and smiling at me at the same time. “I was literally about to say it.”
“No takebacks, mister. I love you. There, now I’ve said it two more times than you have,” I said, smiling as he put his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I could feel the thick bulge of his cock against my thigh.
“I love you too,” he said, and then neither of us spoke for the rest of the night.
I had never experienced such passion from him before. Given that the total amount of times we’d had sex could be counted on the fingers of one hand, it wasn’t saying much, but it was still worth noting the way Ryan was charged with a current that I hadn’t ever noticed.
Shortly after we’d professed our love, he put his arm around my waist and pulled me to him with brute force. I was all for it: by then I was so turned on that I wanted him to do as he pleased.
We skipped the pleasantries and the foreplay that only benefited one person at a time. Instead, he pinned me to the wall, my spine flat against it. He held both of my hands and held them over my head. Dexterously, he took off my panties and threw them on the bed.
I bit down hard on his lower lip. Any harder and I’d have drawn blood. Desire, lust, passion, frenzy — all these things seeped into my body as he kissed along the full length of my neck, squished my breasts against the weight of his body, and made me wrap my legs around his hips.
I felt his cock slide fast and hard inside me, making me gasp loudly as I felt his entire length widen my insides. My nails dug into the skin of his back, my thighs tightened around his torso, and I kissed him ferociously on the lips as he fucked me against the wall.
I stifled my moans by burying my face in his neck, biting there every so often when he thrust harder than usual.
The Gothicism of the place had awoken a vampiric carnality within me, where biting felt good, slicing my nails along his skin felt better, and having him fuck me without restraint felt the best.
In no time at all, I came, my legs quivering, my pussy dripping wet and convulsing. Ryan held onto my thighs, giving me the support I needed as my body went limp, and my breath became shallow.
That was only the first time. We did it four more times that night. By the time we were done, it was already morning, and we were lying in each other’s arms, panting, covered in sweat, naked, tired, sleepy.
I don’t know for how long I had slept. All I knew was that I was cradled comfortably in Ryan’s arms as he spooned me from behind. And when I did slip into the realm of dreams, all I could dream about was a Spanish omelet.