Page 41 of That Reilly Boy
“My family.”
“She’ll love you.”
Cara doesn’t look convinced, which is fair considering the generations of Reillys who have decidedly not loved Gambles. “That’s kind of sloppy, as plans go.”
“It is, but not having everything figured out goes well with the whirlwind wedding.”
“I guess so,” she says, sounding unsure.
We’re not doing a good job of looking like a couple madly in love, so I tilt my body her way and rest my arm along the back of the bench. The contact makes her stiffen for a second, but when she relaxes without shrugging me off, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I don’t think it would help relax her if I told her it’s not easy for me, either. Every time I touch her, it’s not enough. I want to haul her into my arms and kiss her until all of the history between us fades into nothingness. I think about her constantly when I’m awake, and I dream about her when I finally sleep.
This morning I woke up with the memory of heartache filling my senses and my hand splayed across the tattoo on my chest.
No, telling Cara any of that would definitely not help her relax.
Before I can think of something that might reassure her, a ringing sound from the area of her back pocket means I have to move again so she can pull out her phone. I can tell by her expression when she sees the screen, it’s not a happy call. Maybe Gin already heard Cara’s sitting right in the middle of town with that Reilly boy and can’t wait until she gets home to vent her anger.
“It’s my sister,” she says. “Somebody must have told her.”
“You haven’t told her yet?”
“I was going to tell her after I told Mel, but I didn’t realize there would be so much wine involved. And it’s hard for my sister to grab time for calls, so…” She sighs and then gives me an apologetic look before accepting the call. “Hi, Georgia.”
I can only hear Cara’s side of the conversation, even though she’s sitting close to me, so at least her sister doesn’t seem to be yelling.
“I didn’t want to tell you by text, so I was going to call but things keep coming up. But yes, it’s true. We’re getting married on the twenty-ninth. I know it’s short notice, but I hope you and Tony can make it.”
There’s a long silence on Cara’s part, and I really want to lean closer and see if I can make out what Georgia’s saying. I don’t, though, focusing instead on eating my ice cream.
“No, it’s not that. I swear,” Cara says. “Of course I love him. I always have.”
My pulse quickens as heat runs through my veins, but then Cara turns to me and rolls her eyes. The reminder she’s lying is like an emotional ice bath, and I say nothing as she tells her sister she has to run and promises to call her back later.
She’s quiet for a bit after the call, and I let her be while we—with some help from Penny—finish our cones. Once she’s done, she gives me a sad look. “I was so worried about lying to my mother, I didn’t really stop to think about how it would feel to lie to Mel and Georgia.”
I hate seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, but I can’t let her off the hook. Even if we said we’d realized we were being reckless and called it off, she’d be the subject of gossip and Gin would be even less likely to sell me the house. “I know it’s hard, but keep your eye on the goal—your mother being able to take care of her own life so you can live yours.”
She draws in a deep breath, steadying herself. “I know. What’s the next step?”
“I have to go back to Boston tomorrow for some meetings I can’t do remotely. I was thinking if you have space in your morning, we could drop in at the flower shop together before I go.”
She laughs. “I actually do have a cancellation I haven’t filled yet.”
I toss our napkins in the nearby trash can. “You seem to deal with cancellations a lot.”
“Sometimes.” She shrugs. “We usually schedule the next appointment before they leave and a lot can change in six to eight weeks. When people are juggling jobs, school, kids, doctor appointments and more, the family dog getting a bath and haircut is the easiest thing to bump, so I’ve learned to be flexible. My customers appreciate it.”
“So we’ll get the flowers sorted tomorrow, then.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
“I don’t want to help choose the flowers for my wedding?”
“My mother will be in the shop tomorrow morning. She helps Sherry out part-time and Friday mornings are one of the times she’s there.”
I don’t tell her I already know that. Gin and I are going to have to cross paths at some point before she becomes my mother-in-law, and I’d prefer it to be on neutral ground. “It’ll be fine, Cara.”
