“Your brother lives with you two?”
“He recently bought a house,” Garrick explains to Mom. “But he’s been staying with us until he gets through closing and can move in. I love having him around. I’m close with my family.”
“And your parents?” Dad inquires.
“Divorced. My father is still in Australia and my mother lives near me in California. Rylee met her the other day. My father knows about her as well, and I’d like for them to meet one day. He and I aren’t very close, but we do keep in touch.”
I know Garrick talks with his father because I hear them on the phone once in a while. The first time I heard his father say “g’day, mate” in a thick accent reminded me of all the episodes of The Crocodile Hunter I’d watched with Dad growing up. Garrick’s never brought up the possibility I’d meet him face to face, and I don’t know if he’s saying that to appease my parents or if he means it.
Mom and Dad exchange a long look, and I’ve stopped trying to figure out what they silently communicate whenever they get that matching look in their eyes. I always thought I’d get the same abilities when I found someone to spend the rest of my life with, yet here I am, staring at Garrick wondering who the hell he is and what he’s thinking.
He’s a smooth talker.
A charmer.
A flirt.
I shouldn’t be surprised he’s somehow managing to woo my parents considering Dad hasn’t threatened to get out the shot gun or bring up how he’s friends with the local sheriff who lives on the outskirts of town.
If anyone would be able to win over the people who mean the world to me, it’s Garrick Matthews.
And then Mom says, “Do you still use drugs?”
The man who slipped a ring on my finger turns to me subtly, one brow arched, as if to say, told you so. But instead of verbalizing that, he sits straighter and faces my mother. “No, ma’am. I’ve been clean for four years now. It’s been a long journey, but one I plan to stick to.”
“Do you drink?”
“Mom,” I chide, cheeks flaming.
She ignores me. “Do you drink?”
“Occasionally, but not often these days.”
It’s my father who asks, “Are you planning on cheating on my daughter?”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, sinking into the couch hoping the cushions will swallow me whole.
Garrick doesn’t laugh at my expense or get defensive. Instead, he flattens his hand against my leg, just above my knee, caressing the inside of my leg with his fingertips until my heart thumps rapidly in my chest. “So long as your daughter will have me in her life, I will remain faithful. I take my vows and promises seriously, and I would never do anything to hurt her. If she decides this isn’t what she wants—” He looks at me then, softness in his eyes that replicates the way he looked at me last night in my room before we fell asleep together. “—then I will still stand by her no matter what.”
It’s a promise.
One that he’s said before.
What will my parents think when our time is up? What will they say to me when I become another celebrity divorce statistic when the news outlets all report on it? I know their standpoints on divorce better than I know their views on marriage. It’s one person for life, their happiness, their loyalty, and their love.
No exceptions.
So, I’m surprised when my father replies with a quiet, “That’s all I ask.”
I stare at the aging man whose hair has started to thin and beard has begun graying. His dark brown hair is why I decided to dye mine all those years ago, even though my natural honey blonde color comes from my mother. My other features are a mixture of the two, besides my short height that I inherited from my mother.
It’s a few moments of silence again, the tension lessening as the seconds tick by, before my mother speaks. “I want you to be happy, Rylee, but I also want you to be careful.” Before I can say anything, her eyes drift to the man sitting beside me, hand still on my leg, thumb still comforting me in short strokes, and body heat wrapping me in its warmth unknowingly. “Sometimes the people we think will never hurt us are the ones who harm us the most when we least expect it.”
Her words come with a warning, much lighter than the ones given to me by Garrick’s family.
But it’s all the same.
And Garrick takes it as he should. “I understand, Mrs. Simmons.”
It’s a breath or two before my mother sighs again, picks up her tea, and sits back in her chair. “You can call me Kelly.”
Garrick shoots me a secretive grin in victory while I slowly shake my head at the miracle I just witnessed.
My parents put on the TV to break up the tension, except the first thing that flashes across the screen is a video of us walking out of the airport along the clustered crowds.
22
Garrick
I think Rylee is about to cry. Or combust if the pacing is any indication. I’m not sure which is safer, so I let her have her moment as I bring our bags up to her old childhood bedroom and set them down on the full-sized mattress. At least it’s not a twin, since there’s no spare room for me to sleep in like I would have figured they’d direct me to.
Her father simply said, “It’s her room or the couch, and that couch will leave you with one hell of a backache.”
Based on the way her eyes stare at the bed before her fingers raise to her mouth to
