Page 55 of That Reilly Boy
I try to head her off because I don’t want Colleen’s face to be the first one Gin sees when the door opens, but Hope cuts in front of both of us with the speed and aggression of a Boston commuter.
“I’ll answer my own door, thank you very much,” my sister-in-law says with an uncharacteristic edge to her tone.
She pins us each with a warning look usually reserved for her children, and then pulls open the door. “Welcome! Please, come in.”
There’s a moment after Cara moves toward me when Gin hesitates. Just when I’m convinced Cara’s mother is either unwilling or unable to cross a Reilly threshold, she steps inside. No alarms go off and nobody bursts into flames, so maybe this will be okay.
That’s when I notice the gift bag Gin is holding.
When Cara reaches me, I pull her into my arms. Knowing it will look like I’m kissing my fiancé’s cheek, I press my lips close to her ear. “What’s in the bag?”
“She wouldn’t tell me,” she whispers back, and every muscle in my body tenses.
Cara moves out of my arms, but she doesn’t go far. With her side pressed against mine, she reaches down and threads our fingers together. I give her a hand a reassuring squeeze as Gin passes the gift to Hope.
At least she didn’t hand it to my mother. While Gin might enjoy watching my mother stick her hand into some disgusting surprise, she wouldn’t do that to Hope. I don’t think.
“I brought you a little thank you gift,” Gin says. “For inviting us into your home.”
I hold my breath as my sister-in-law reaches into the bag, and I’m pretty sure Cara’s doing the same.
“Pickles.” Hope looks slightly confused by the unusual hostess gift, but my mother doesn’t. She might actually need help unclenching her jaw if she doesn’t relax it soon. “Thank you.”
“I wasn’t sure if you drink wine,” Gin says, “so I brought you some homemade pickles. It was my mother-in-law’s recipe, and she won a blue ribbon at the fair.”
Cara’s clenching my hand so hard, my fingers are throbbing, but I keep the smile on my face as I try to take my mother’s emotional temperature.
Colleen is watching me now, not her pickle-toting nemesis, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. With our hands entwined and Cara’s body turned close to mine, I know we look like a couple. But sometimes mothers see more than we’d like.
“Thank you so much,” I hear Hope saying. “We love pickles in this house, so we’ll definitely enjoy them. You know everybody right?”
My mother’s eyes lock with mine for the space of a few heartbeats, and then she smiles—it almost looks real—and turns to Cara’s mother. “Hello, Gin. I hope you like lasagna.”
“Hello, Colleen. I do, and it smells delicious.”
That went well, I think as Daisy and AJ come down the stairs. Cara must think so too, because her hand is relaxing, allowing the restoration of blood flow to my fingertips.
Before Aaron or Hope can say anything, Colleen steps forward. “These are my grandchildren, Daisy and Aaron Junior—or simply AJ, as we usually call him.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Gin says, managing a smile for the kids. After they murmur greetings, she turns back to Colleen. “You have beautiful grandchildren.”
“Thank you. It’s great to see the next generation carrying on the Reilly name,” Colleen says, and then she casts a pointed look at me while Gin’s hands curl into fists at her side. Cara’s fingers are strangling mine again.
“We’ll be hyphenating our kids’ names,” I say quickly, before Gin can respond to the dig. “Gamble-Reilly, so our children will continue the legacy of both families. Together.”
“Dinner’s about ready,” Hope says abruptly, her cheeriness sounding more forced by the second. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cara
Saved by the lasagna, I think, as most of the Reillys head toward the dining room. Hayden starts to go, but his fingers are still laced through mine and I haven’t moved, so he has to stop or else jerk me forward.
When he gives me a questioning look, I reluctantly let go of his hand. I like the way they fit together so well. “We’ll be right in. I just want to say hi to Penny really quick. I see her peeking out at me.”
He smiles and heads for the kitchen, while I sit on the edge of the sofa. Penny immediately comes out of hiding and jumps up to rest her front paws on my knee so I can lift her onto my lap. Stroking my hand over her back makes my ring refract the light, and Gin shakes her head.
“Such an impractical ring,” she says. Then, after tightening her lips for a few seconds, she gives me a tight smile. “It’s very pretty, though.”
