Her eyes lit and her gaze softened when she smiled up at him in surprise. “Good morning.”
God, he loved catching her blind reaction before she had a chance to overthink things. Her eyes and smile told him they were on the right track. His body jolted with sharp desire and he gave her a promising look. “I’ll be back.”
Chapter 18
Ryan spent a fortune at the grocery store, but it was worth it. He wanted to impress Maggie with a good meal and ribs were the only thing he knew how to cook outside of the wax ramen noodle family. After the market, he went to his parents’, only to find his mother sitting in a mess of keepsakes and knickknacks, weeping over old pictures in front of the still-full curio cabinet.
“There he is, my first born. Will you look at how adorable you were?” She held up a dated picture. Ryan recognized himself as a baby, sitting in a large stew pot and wearing a potholder on his head.
“Mum, you were supposed to have all this stuff cleaned out. Where’s Dad?”
“Your father had to run out.” She turned a page in the photo album. “Look at you here! You used to love that baby swing. And look at me. My arms still looked like arms back then. Now, they look more like broken bat wings or a flesh kimono.”
“Mum, I don’t have time for this.” He grabbed an empty box and started loading it with items in the cabinet.
“Careful, love. Those are fragile and should be wrapped.”
“They’re moving to the hall. I think they can make it.”
“They could chip. Here, use some newspaper.”
“I’m not wrapping each individual piece just to transport them down the hall.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
He held out the box, and she gave him a pointed look, then turned another page of the photo album.
“Oh, look, it’s you and Patrick in your Easter suits.”
“Mum! Please. I can’t be here all day.”
She slapped the picture album down on the table. “You don’t have time to reminisce with your mother for a few minutes? For Pete’s sake, Ryan, you just got here. Am I so unbearable that you can’t even tolerate a polite visit home anymore? Far be it for me to ask for any of your precious time. I only carried you for nine and a half long months and gave you life.”
He rolled his eyes. Every time she used that line her pregnancy got longer. “I love my life, mum, and I love you. But I’ve got meat in the truck, and I have to be somewhere in a little bit.”
“Where do you have to be?”
He hesitated, not wanting to mention Maggie. If his mother knew he was dating someone she’d start asking questions, not just to him but to everyone. Rumors would burn through the town like a brush fire. Maggie wouldn’t like being the center of gossip. Then his mother would insist on meeting her, and he didn’t want to cross that bridge yet.
He let out a sigh. “Fine. I can stay for one hour, but I have to make a phone call.”
That seemed to appease her. He went out front to make sure his groceries weren’t sitting in direct sun and called Maggie. She told him to take his time.
“I should be back by noon. Two at the latest.”
“I’ll be here.”
When one o’clock came and passed and the cabinet still wasn’t emptied, Ryan moved his groceries into the garage freezer. His mother was now polishing her silver, which they never used but she seemed compelled to suddenly clean.
“Mum, you can do that later. Can you call Dad again? I really need to get going.”
“Where are you in such a rush to go?”
“I have plans.”
“With who?”
“Tristan,” he lied.
“No, Tristan’s away with Luke. Your father told you that this morning. Try again.”
He silently counted to ten, but his frustration didn’t abate. “Don’t you care that it’s my birthday? Did it ever occur to you that this might not be the way I wanted to spend it?”
Her mouth flattened and her expression blanked. She gently closed the silver box. “I see.” She stood and batted the wrinkles out of her pants. “Well, you should go then. I’ll wait until Patrick comes home. He won’t mind moving this for me. He never minds.”
“Jesus, Mum. Why do you have to make it some sort of competition? Dad asked me to come help and I’m here. But he’s not. As a matter of fact, I’ve been here all morning. The day’s half shot, and you still, somehow, make me feel like a terrible son for wanting to do something other than clean out your dining room hutch for hours on my birthday.”
Her chin dropped. “You’re right. It was thoughtless of me to think you had nothing better to do. Go ahead. Enjoy the rest of your day. We can do this another time.”