Rough Around the Edges (42 page)

His phone rang again and he let it cycle through the ringtone once before ending the kiss and stepping back with a groan, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Hello?” His lips felt swollen from so much contact with her body.

It was his father. “Ryan. You should be at the apartment by now. Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Let’s meet now then. We held off on lunch so we could eat with you. Do you still have your heart set on that Tomasino’s place?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t just that Tomasino’s Brick Oven was relatively nearby, or that it had once been his favorite restaurant. It was the fact that if he let his father choose their meeting place, it would be somewhere where he’d look like a moron trying to enter in jeans. There was absolutely no question of going somewhere where a jacket was required – the only garment he could fit over his cast was a cotton hoodie with a lot of stretch.

“All right. You brought your girlfriend, right? She didn’t back out?”

“Of course she’s here.” He hadn’t told his parents anything about Ally, really, other than the fact that they were together, but his father’s pragmatic suspicion was still grating.

“We’ll see you both then at Tomasino’s. Your mother and I will be there already by the time you arrive.”

“Okay.” After ending the call, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Ally was gazing directly into his eyes when he looked up at her again. “About your question,” she said. “I don’t think this place will really feel like home until we finish this.” She smiled, eyes flitting down to where her thighs were still spread.

A bolt of mingled longing and regret sliced through him, translating to a deep ache that settled into his balls. “You’re right. Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That was my father on the phone. He and my mother want us to meet them for dinner.”

“Right now?” She glanced toward the kitchen stove, where a digital clock showed that it was only two o’clock.

“He said they’d figured we’d be hungry after our flight, so they put off lunch to eat with us.”

“Oh.” She eased her thighs shut, frowning. “Sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.” What if he took her right then? It wouldn’t take long…

No. On second thought, it would be good to have something to long for – something to look forward to as he endured the meeting with his parents. It was hard to imagine it going pleasantly. After all, there was the furniture they’d forced on him. He’d have to say something about that, or they’d only continue doing similar things.

Ally slid down from the counter and began to dress.  “Are we going somewhere nearby?”

“It’s not too far. I chose the location – it was one of my favorite restaurants when I lived here.”

“What kind of place is it? Not formal, I hope?”

“Not at all. It’s an Italian place. Definitely casual.” He extended a hand, eager to let his fingers interlace with hers. Whatever was about to happen would be better than it would’ve been without her at his side. “Ready to go?”

* * * * *

Despite the disparity between who he’d been when he’d last entered Tomasino’s and who he was now, when he stepped through the restaurant’s front doors, it felt as if no time at all had passed. The scents of tomato and garlic were the same, and it looked as if they hadn’t moved a single thing over the past several years. Ryan marveled at the sameness of it all, until his gaze settled on a table in the far left corner.

The illusion of time-suspension shattered as he laid eyes on his family. “Looks like my brother came, too,” he said for Ally’s benefit as they started toward the table. As the realization that nothing was even remotely the same as it had been before settled in, he pressed a hand against the small of Ally’s back and rubbed the curve of her spine.

His family members looked like he remembered. His father sat rigidly in an expensive suit, as always, while his mother looked elegant and privileged in a deceptively simple outfit, her blonde hair twisted up into some kind of bun. And his brother, Stephen, was basically a younger version of their father – a familiar but unlined face in a designer suit, his hair brown instead of salt-and-pepper grey. Had any of them changed at all?

The thought rang through him like gunshot. A sick feeling warned him that they probably hadn’t, that if he hadn’t fit in well among them before, that had been nothing compared to the trouble he’d have now.

His mother was smiling, though. It was a tentative smile, but that somehow made it seem more genuine. It was a nice change from the memories of her frequent frowns that crowded his mind.

“We had the waiter put two tables together,” Ryan’s father said. “This place isn’t really equipped for groups bigger than four.” He looked briefly in Ally’s direction, then directly at Ryan. “It’s good to have you back.” He extended a hand.

It was the wrong hand. With his cast, Ryan couldn’t shake it – at least, not gracefully.

His father took one look at the cast and switched hands without skipping a beat.

“This is Ally,” Ryan said when the handshake was over. “Ally, this is my father Patrick, my mother Cecilia and my brother Stephen.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” Ally shook everyone’s hand. Cecilia was the only one who smiled at her.

Ryan pulled out a chair for Ally and they settled down at the table, across from his family, who looked a lot like a board of hiring executives ready to interview a couple of hapless job applicants.

“You two certainly look like you belong together.” Cecilia’s thin smile stretched a little wider as she nodded at them. “Did you get into an accident together, or did one of you decide to imitate the other?”

“Separately,” Ryan said. “I fractured my wrist in a work accident. Ally’s injury happened at home.”

“Oh? What kind of work were you doing in Baltimore?”

“Construction.”

Patrick leaned forward, looking interested in the conversation for the first time. “Construction. What was your position?”

“Laborer. I built roofs.”

Ryan’s reply was like a bucket of cold water thrown over a candle. The light faded immediately from his father’s eyes, and he sat in silence.

“Was that the best job you could get after getting out of the military?” Cecilia asked, breaking the quiet spell. “I mean, didn’t they teach you anything there that would give you some sort of edge in the job market?”

So much for banishing the awkwardness. But then, his parents had always handled things this way – head on, without any reservations or simple social courtesies. “I took the first job I could get. It wasn’t like I had a fat bank account backing me up. I needed work, and roofing was work.”

“Well,” Patrick said, freeing his silverware from his napkin and lowering the latter into his lap, “I think we can find you a much better position at Greene & Jacobs.”

“I’m not asking for anything I’m not suited for. I want a position where I can actually be useful, though I’m willing to be trained.” The last thing he wanted was to rot in a corner office, a useless figurehead of authority and a joke among other Greene & Jacobs employees.

“Well, we won’t be putting you out in the field if that’s what you mean.” Patrick shook his head, frowning. “For Christ’s sake, I’m not going to give my own son a job where he’ll be in danger of breaking his arm.” He smiled, but the expression was only momentary, and it never reached his eyes.

A flash of annoyance struck Ryan, sharp and paralyzing. Why did everything about his father have to be so fake, so condescending?

“Let’s talk about this later,” Cecilia said. “Ryan just got here. He doesn’t want to talk about jobs.”

“He came here for a job,” Patrick said. “Of course he wants to talk about jobs.”

A waiter materialized beside the table, and Ryan had never been so glad to see a total stranger.

Ally ordered the chicken parmesan and Ryan ordered his favorite ravioli, though the idea of eating it no longer appealed to him like it had when he’d first walked through the doors and inhaled the aromas of Italian cooking.

Stephen made an attempt at changing the direction of the conversation by asking about Baltimore and what the city was like. He didn’t look or sound particularly interested, but anything was better than listening to their father dole out judgment. Ryan tried to describe the Inner Harbor, though Ally supplied most of the details.

Truth was, he’d never made a real effort to become familiar with the city. Yeah, he’d walked and driven some of its streets, but only the ones he’d needed to in order to get to work, the gym or other places of necessity. When he’d gone to the harbor, he’d had more on his mind than the water and surrounding attractions. Of all the times he’d gone there, the ones where Ally had been by his side stood out most vividly, and he’d spared little attention for anything besides her then.

Cecilia nodded continuously, eyes flickering back and forth between Ryan and Ally. Meanwhile, Patrick sat straight-backed in his chair, looking like he’d rather watch paint dry than hear about Baltimore.

When the food arrived, it was the perfect excuse to stop talking about things no one cared about. He made it halfway through his plate of ravioli – which was good, there was no denying – before Cecilia started asking questions again.

“How do you like the furnishings?” she asked. “I kept it simple – just the basics so you could decorate in your own style.”

“You didn’t have to furnish the place at all. I want to pay my own way, with my own money. I’ll reimburse you for the moving expenses and the furniture after I get my feet on the ground at work and pay off some medical bills.” God knew how long that would take, even with a good salary, but he’d do it.

A crease appeared between Cecilia’s eyes as she froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You don’t have to—”

“Consider the furniture a housewarming gift,” Patrick interrupted. “It’s not a crime for us to give you one of those, is it?”

Chapter 24

Ryan shoved a forkful of ravioli into his mouth and forced himself to chew before replying. The rich flavors of cheese, mushroom and oregano neutralized the words that had jumped to the tip of his tongue, ones he wouldn’t have been able to take back. “Fine. Thanks. But no more sending town cars. And no more extravagant gifts.”

When he and Ally had exited their new apartment building, a town car had been waiting for them, sent by his father. They’d accepted the ride, but it wouldn’t happen again.

“Speaking of cars, yours is parked in the garage at our place. Ready for you whenever you’re able to drive again.”

Ryan nodded. He’d pick it up as soon as he had a chance.  Maybe then his parents would stop sending town cars to his building.

Would Ally want to continue learning to drive in New York? He could maybe take her outside the city, to some less crowded roads, if she didn’t want to plunge into navigating the gridlock traffic right away.

As memories of the city’s shitty traffic flooded back to him, a bolt of agony lanced through his head, hitting the wall of his skull and stopping, throbbing at his temple. The timing had only been a coincidence; even driving through Manhattan at rush hour was infinitely less stressful than a single meal with his parents. The pain was strong though, and insistent, like a clinging parasite that dug sharp claws deep into the soft tissue of his brain. He’d be in hell soon. He pressed a hand to his head, willing the encroaching migraine to slow its progress.

“Can I get a to-go box?” Ryan asked the waiter when he appeared with a pitcher of ice water. “Thanks.”

“You know, if the food’s not good, you don’t have to take it home,” Patrick said.

“The food is good.” Ryan accepted the box that the waiter returned with. “But Ally and I have got to get going.”

“Tomorrow,” Patrick said. “Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow, and we can discuss your prospects at Greene & Jacobs seriously.”