A Secret for a Secret Page 47

My dad looks tired—as is typical when dealing with Gerald—and Hanna is obviously as pissed off as I am, based on her pursed lips and angry glaring.

“Where’s the limo? We’re all going home!” I shout over them. I need to get us all out of here before we draw more attention and someone decides to record this ridiculous conversation.

“But we just got here!” Gerald throws his arm over Hanna’s shoulder and uses her to help keep him from tipping over.

“I’m calling a family meeting that isn’t going to take place in this parking lot,” I snap. “The limo. Where is it?” I ask Hanna, because out of everyone, she’s the one most likely to take my side on this. She’s always had my back, and I’m banking on her having it now too.

“It should be parked over there.” Hanna motions across the lot.

My family follows, although Gerald grumbles about having left a half-full beer behind, and Jessica and my mom are whispering loudly about my mood. I don’t say anything because I’m afraid I’m going to go off on them, and that’s not normally something I do. I’m always even. Levelheaded. But this is a new height of interference on my mother’s part, and I honestly don’t know what to make of it.

Everyone piles into the limo, and somehow, despite my getting in last, I still end up between Jessica and my mom.

“What’s gotten into you?” my mom asks once we’re on the way home.

“Why would you tell Jessica that Queenie and I broke up?”

“Because she’s married, and you were rightfully conflicted about the entire thing when we spoke about this as a family. Besides, I know my son well enough to know that you wouldn’t continue to date her.” Once again, my mom has found a way to spin a past conversation to suit her own purposes.

“Out of all of us, you’re the last one I expected to hook up with a married chick,” Gerald says through a loud belch.

“Shut up, Gerald” comes the nearly harmonious family reply.

“What? It’s true. The golden boy never fucks up.”

“Queenie is not married. She’s divorced, and she would’ve been divorced six years ago if her ass of an ex hadn’t screwed her over. So it was a technicality that she was still married,” I explain through gritted teeth.

“But who gets married at eighteen unless they accidentally got knocked up?” Jessica says and then cringes. “Sorry, Hanna. But you weren’t even old enough to get married, anyway, so it doesn’t count.”

“No, I just had a baby as a teenager. Totally doesn’t count.” Hanna is all sarcasm, which Jessica misses.

“We’re not debating who’s allowed to get married when,” I snap. “If there’s a family who should not be judgmental about people’s mistakes, it’s damn well this one!”

“There’s no need to raise your voice, Ryan. And we’re not being judgmental: people make mistakes all the time. We know that, and I thought you’d finally realized that you made a mistake when you broke up with Jessica, so I took it upon myself to help set things right.” My mother smiles nervously, hands clasped in her lap.

There’s a murmur of agreement from Gerald, and my dad grunts when my mom kicks him in the shin.

Jessica puts her hand on my knee and squeezes. “I forgive you for that.”

I rub the space between my eyes and grind my teeth. “No offense, Jessica, but I’m not asking for your forgiveness, because I didn’t make a mistake.”

“Ryan! You two have nearly a decade together! You don’t throw that away because things get tough or something shiny and new catches your eye for a few minutes. You’re lucky Jessica has been so understanding about all of this.”

I love my family, but they’re crazy. Apart from Hanna, anyway. I remind myself that I didn’t get where I am today by losing my temper every time I get angry. This whole situation is seriously pushing my buttons, though. “Queenie is not something shiny and new. We’ve been dating each other for months, and I love her.”

“Ryan!” my mother exclaims, and she flails her hand out toward Jessica. “Consider someone’s feelings other than your own!”

That gets a round of mumbling from my family. Although this time not everyone seems to be 100 percent in agreement. Hanna looks like she wishes she were anywhere but here. Which makes two of us.

“Like you considered mine when you brought my ex-girlfriend as a surprise right in the middle of a particularly difficult time in my new relationship? Or maybe a better example would be when you kept the fact that my sister is actually my goddamn mother from me for thirty fucking years because it was better for you!” I shout.

Since we’re in a limo, it’s more like a roar. Also, I’m angry. Possibly angrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

And suddenly the vehicle is pin-drop silent. Everyone’s eyes are saucer wide.

Gerald slaps his thigh. “I won the bet! Everyone owes me a case of beer! I told you King would lose it eventually and drop an f-bomb!”

“Unless you would like to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of my fist in your face, I suggest you shut up,” I growl.

“Yeah, but then you’d have to pay for the dental work.” I launch myself at him, and it takes my dad and Hanna to pry me off. Hanna insists I calm down, because I’m going to hurt more than just Gerald if I can’t get a handle on myself. I realize she’s right, and that my mom and Jessica look terrified, so I sit back down.

We arrive at my house a minute later, thankfully, and everyone piles out, putting space between them and me. I punch in the code aggressively and usher everyone inside.

“Jessica and I need a minute alone, please,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of your family.” She tips her chin up, almost defiant, and like maybe she thinks if I have to say it in front of them, I’ll choose my words more carefully.

I’ve always been considerate of everyone else’s feelings. Always treaded very carefully with my family and friends to avoid offending people or hurting their feelings, but this is really more than I can take after the week I’ve had.

“Why do you want to be with me?” I ask Jessica.

“What?”

“It’s a straightforward question. What is it about me that makes you want to be with me?”

“Oh, uh . . .” She bites her lip and chuckles nervously. “Well, obviously you’re very handsome.”

After a few seconds of her staring at me, I ask, “Is that it?”

“Of course not. You’re very put together and organized, which I appreciate, and you’re very stable most of the time . . . apart from tonight, anyway.”

“So I’m nice looking, I’m organized, and I’m stable? Those are my best traits?” The whole stable thing is questionable right now. I feel anything but level.

“You’re also kind,” she rushes on. “And you’re good at following the rules, although you do tend to drive slow, but that’s not a big deal, and you’re very generous.”

I jam my hands in my pockets. “Is that it?”

She looks around, maybe slightly panicked, and chuckles. “Um, I guess? I mean, you’re putting me on the spot here.”

“What about in bed? How’s that for you?”

“Ryan!” my mother scolds, and the rest of the family either coughs or snickers.

Jessica’s eyes flare and her cheeks turn red. “Excuse me? I don’t think that’s an appropriate question in front of your family.”

“You’re the one who invited them to this private conversation, and I think it’s a legitimate question.” I cross my arms. It might not be appropriate, but it’s sure as hell pertinent. Part of me also hopes she’ll either ask for privacy or my family will take it as a cue to leave.

“You’re very attentive,” she whispers.

“So would you say we’re compatible in that capacity?”

“Um, yes, I guess.”

“You guess?” I’m pushing for a reason.

“You can be very . . . chatty. I don’t really see why this is relevant.” Her eyes bounce around the room, and her face looks like it’s about to burst into flames.

“I knew it! King’s a dirty talker! I figured he couldn’t be buttoned up all the time.”

“Shut up, Gerald,” everyone says in unison.

“And how do you feel about hockey?” I figure she’s embarrassed enough, and I have the answer I need. Jessica is beautiful, nice, and friendly, but our relationship has always been flawed, and I see that so much more clearly now than I ever did before.

“What?”

“Hockey. How do you feel about it?” I ask gently.

“It’s . . . fine.”

“Fine?”

“Well, it takes up a lot of your time, but you’re not going to play forever, and I’ve always had your family to keep me from getting too lonely, so I’ve been able to deal with it. At least I was able to deal with it until you broke up with me,” she replies.

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