Chapter 21
Ishika
While Ryan adds finishing touches to his pasta and bakes a vanilla bean and hazelnut cake, Owen and I fill out the application form.
Ryan occasionally grunts his disapproval for the tedious thirty-page application.
As Owen adds more details to Ryan’s profile and his credentials, the reality of what happened earlier hits me.
Oh Shit! Sadie will be mad that I didn’t tell her first. Her anger is justified.
If Sadie decides to have a boyfriend and the man who was chosen to be her boyfriend found out about her selection before I did, I would have been mad too.
I’ll have to bribe her with new shoes. I’ll have to explain it was sudden.
My boyfriend.
Oh my God! I have a boyfriend!
Sadie’s varsity friends are so annoying. Always hitting on other people’s boyfriends. I don’t know why she is friends with them. There’s a possibility we might meet them at Sadie’s birthday party. They are definitely going to drool and giggle for Ryan. It’s time I invest in a fly swatter.
He is mine, bitches. Touch him and see what I do to those hair implants.
I let out an evil laugh with my internal monologue that sounds like Muhahaha!
Owen glances at me worried and a little bit afraid. I tone down my evil plotting and decide to go back to admiring my sexy man.
Ryan with his dimpled lopsided grin could seriously sell a lot more frying pans.
All he has to do is give a glimpse of his tattoos, the day-old scruff, and his broad chest and his narrow hips.
The frying pans would fly off shelves in a matter of seconds.
If they show him shirtless in one of the commercials, I will flip.
The happy trail that leads to his Herculean cock, the deep V, and his tight abs, those are only for my eyes. I am not sharing that.
As the boys are busy arguing about a soccer match, I get a glass tumbler filled with water and use it as a makeshift vase. My wild purple daisies fill the tumbler perfectly, acting as the centerpiece on the table.
Suddenly the doorbell rings. Owen rushes to the door, opening it.
“Hey, Mom!” he beams as a middle-aged woman enters the house.
His mother is beautiful but I can tell that grieving took a toll on her body.
She has big blue eyes like Ryan’s and her hair is blond like Owens.
There is kindness in her face and laugh lines around her mouth and eyes.
“Shit!” I am clutching Ryan’s forearm tight. “I’m not even dressed properly. Did you know your mom was coming?” I whisper-yell at Ryan. I’m in a miniskirt with no makeup and my hair is in a wild bun on top of my head.
“Chill. You are perfect,” Ryan reassures as his mother enters the kitchen area and is equally surprised to see me.
“Hey, Mom. Meet Ryan’s girl,” Owen introduces.
“Let me grab that,” Ryan says, pulling the basket of freshly folded clothes out of her hands, leaving me alone to face his mother.
“I didn’t know you were having a party,” Ryan’s mom says, giving me a sideways look. “But since I am here already…” She turns to me, waiting for me to say something.
“Hello, Mrs. Harper. I’m Ishika, nice to meet you,” I introduce myself. I wanted to look more presentable when I met my boyfriend’s mother. I want her to like me.
Damn it! My skirt is too short.
“Ishika. That’s such a beautiful name,” she says sweetly.
I search for Ryan to hurry back and stick to my side. “Thank you, Mrs. Harper.”
“Please call me Marcy,” she says and I nod.
“So, this one and Ryan. When did this happen?” she asks Owen.
“Did you go to the doctor?” Ryan says, coming back to the room.
“I’ll go tomorrow, and you better stop interrupting me when I am having a wonderful conversation with Ishika. Now, go get your mother some food. Add extra olives for me please?” she asks, glancing toward the table that holds the purple flowers.
Ryan pulls out a chair for his mom and sets a plate for her.
“So how did you meet Ryan, Ishika?” Marcy asks.
“Obviously, I hooked them up. This was all my doing. You can thank me later,” Owen volunteers.
Ryan whacks his brother’s head and pulls out a chair for me to sit next to him. He then plates for me too.
“You should open some wine. Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you shouldn’t celebrate,” Marcy says.
Ryan pours a nonalcoholic rose wine for his mother before bringing out a bottle of Sangiovese and pouring a glass for others.
“Yum! Your sauce is so good. The best I ever tasted,” I say, sucking on my fork after my first mouthful of his spaghetti with his secret sauce. I moan as the tang of herbs, olive, chives, and tomato coats my taste buds.
“Told ya,” Owen says as he digs into his food.
“Babe, quit moaning like that with my sauce in your mouth. You’re giving me a boner in front of Mom,” Ryan whispers in my ear.
The conversation soon shifts to the childhood stories of Ryan and Owen. The shenanigans, the love, and the sacrifices of a family that lost so much and still stuck together. Somehow, I become part of their story, teaming up with his mom and picking on Ryan and Owen.