I sighed heavily. “Charli and Adam are weird.”
Bente lifted her head and rested her chin on my shoulder. “I’m serious, Ryan.”
“Why do we have to be serious at midnight?”
“I think he wants another baby.”
It was a totally inappropriate conversation for a few reasons. First, it was none of our business. Second, it was far too late to be discussing anything. I tried answering her anyway, in the hope that she’d finally go to sleep.
“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because it’s none of my business.”
Exactly, I didn’t reply.
“Do you want to have a baby, Ryan?” she asked.
My throat seized up at the unexpected question, making a calm reply impossible. “Now?” I choked.
Bente dropped her head, bouncing her warm laugh off my skin. It was so freaking perfect I considered knocking her up there and then.
“Not now, in the future,” she clarified. “Do you want children some day?”
It wasn’t something I thought about very often, but it was on my list of things to do when I eventually became an adult.
“Yes,” I muttered. “I want four sons.”
“Four?” she gasped.
“Yeah. And I’m going to call them all Ryan. I’m going to create my own miniature army of Ryans.”
Perhaps realising that delirium had set in, she patted my chest. “You might need help with that, soldier.”
“You’ll help me,” I said smugly.
“Not with four,” she informed me. “Two, max.”
I slid my arm beneath her and cradled her against me. “Are you offering to bear my children, Miss Denison?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I appreciate the offer but I’m just not sure that I’d be content in settling down with my very first girlfriend.”
Her whole body moved when she laughed. “You’re right, Ryan. I think you should play the field a little first.”
30. ENIGMA
Bente
My offer to attempt to win Bridget over was ambitious to say the least, but I was determined to give it my best shot. Ryan spent the morning at Billet-doux, doing whatever it is that Ryan does, and then collected his niece. They hit the park from there and, not surprisingly, I wasn’t invited.
I put the time alone to good use, preparing an arsenal of little girl delights. It was a complex operation. My nieces could be easily bought with chocolate and toys but Bridget would not be so easily swayed.
I’d visited Ivy that morning and commandeered a glue gun and a box of sparkles before heading off to buy a Bridget size pair of galoshes. Now I sat on the couch like Suzy-freaking-homemaker diligently attaching sparkles to a pair of boots.
I knew it was going to be a long afternoon, and judging by the look of pure thunder Bridget bestowed on me as she walked through the door, she knew it too. My plan was to ignore her and wait for her to come to me when curiosity got the better of her.
I’d laid out my entire plan to Ryan over breakfast.
“Just ignore me,” I instructed. “Pretend not to notice me.”
“I’ll try,” he promised. “But if you get glue anywhere near my couch, you can bet I’m going to notice you.”
Despite his anti-crafting stance, he was playing his part to perfection. He said nothing to me when they arrived, which threw Bridget for a loop. Instead, he sat her at the counter and made her something to eat. While he was staring into the fridge she stole a glance at me, which I pretended not to notice.
Ryan set a juice box and a couple of cookies down in front of her.
“I don’t like them,” she told him.
“They’re the same ones you had yesterday.”
“I don’t like them any more,” she amended.
He walked around the counter, picked her up and lowered her to her feet. That was probably the point that she usually made a run for her girls, but she didn’t move.
“What’s up Bridge?” asked Ryan, as if he didn’t know. He pointed at her toybox. “Go play with your girls.”
If she’d walked any slower, she would’ve been travelling backwards. She wasn’t remotely interested in her toys. She was more intent on checking me out. I could feel her behind me, stalking me like a little lion, but I kept gluing like a trooper despite my shaking hands. After twenty minutes I decided that Bridget Décarie was not easily led into temptation. It must’ve been a trait inherited from her father. Charli would’ve been dancing around the room in the bedazzled boots before the glue had a chance to set.
Bridget lurked behind the couch. From the corner of my eye I occasionally saw her head bob up, but that was the only move she made. Ryan sat at the counter reading a newspaper. He was hardly struggling with the silence. No doubt he was relishing the peace and quiet.
I set one gemshot boot on the coffee table so she could get a good look at it. The thing was so junked up it practically glowed.
Bridget finally took the bait. She walked around the couch and climbed up beside me. I continued gluing as if she hadn’t made a move.
“I love those boots,” she said finally.
Ryan swivelled his stool around and grinned at me. I fought hard not to smile back, somehow managing to keep my focus on the project on my lap. “Do you?” I asked simply.
Bridget nodded. “Do you love my boots?”
“Of course,” I replied inattentively. “Who wouldn’t love zebra print boots? I think they’re wonderful.”
Her little legs barely reached the edge of the cushion, but she did her best to swing her feet. “Do you love diamonds, Bente?”
“Sure. Do you?”
“I love them on boots.”
I had to hand it to her, she was a stellar opponent. Bridget was smartly taking the long way around. If Malibu was in her position, she’d just throw a tantrum and demand that I give them to her.
“I do too,” I replied. “That’s why I’m making them.”
“They might be too small for you,” suggested Bridget. “You’ve got big girl feet.”
I looked at my shoes. “Oh, you’re right.” I spoke dejectedly as if I’d only just realised it. “I don’t think they’re going to fit me.”
Bridget patted my knee. “Never mind,” she soothed.
I heard Ryan chuckle and then quickly clear his throat.
“It seems a shame to let them go to waste,” I said sadly. “Do you think they’d fit your feet?”
“Yes I do,” she declared, already kicking off her boots.
I helped her pull on her new junked-up galoshes and for a very short minute I felt victorious – until she took off running to Ryan.
Then I felt like I’d been scammed by a four-year-old evil genius.
“Look what I have, Ry!” she squealed.
Ryan looked at me, silently pleading for instruction.
I shrugged. It was round two to Bridget.
***
My efforts hadn’t been completely in vain. I hadn’t bumped Ryan off top spot but at least Bridget was talking to me again. She refrained from biting my head off when I dared to speak to Ryan too, so I accepted it as a good result.
Despite the progress I’d made, I was relieved when her dad finally picked her up. “Ryan, how long are you going to be watching her?” I asked, sinking back into the couch.
He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed my cheek as he passed. “A few weeks, tops.” He disappeared down the bedroom but called out a few seconds later. “I think you might want to see this, Bente.”
I trudged down the hall slowly, expecting the very worst. For all I knew, I could’ve been gearing up to view a crime scene. Ryan hadn’t ventured any further than the doorway, doing nothing to allay my fears. I poked my head into the room, noticing that a few changes had been made. I’d made the bed that morning, not perfectly, but a damn sight better than it looked now. The covers were rumpled and the pillows were askew.
“If she’s taken to messin
g up our bed Ryan, the gloves are off,” I grumbled.
He took me by the hand and led me over to the bed. That’s when I noticed the bulge under the blankets. “A horse’s head?” he suggested.
I had no clue what to expect when I pulled back the covers, but a pile of broken dolls wasn’t it.
“Her girls,” I breathed.
“Congratulations,” Ryan murmured, kissing the top of my head. “If you’re in with the girls, you’re as good as part of the family.”
“She’s not normal, Ryan.” My experience with small children wasn’t exactly vast, but that much I did know. “She’s an enigma. Four-year-olds don’t leave you hanging. They don’t bide their time, and they don’t play their cards close to their chest.” Bridget had patience and wisdom far beyond her years.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear. “Wait until you meet the four Ryans.”
***
Friday night rolled around far too quickly.
I tried to play it cool, but I changed my dress three times in half an hour, finally settling on a simple black Ivy creation. My nerves were getting the better of me, and Ryan noticed.
“You look beautiful,” he assured me, “but you’re acting like a crazy woman.”
“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” I informed him. “You’re supposed to be comforting me in my hour of need.”
“Help me out, then,” he replied. “I’m new at this.”
I set my brush down on the bathroom counter. “Do you think your parents are going to like me?”
Ryan sidled up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “Look at you.” He dropped his head, resting his chin on my shoulder. “How could they not like you?”
It was going to take more than looking good to charm them. I needed to try my hand at being witty and smart, as opposed to being a smartass. Just thinking about it made me feel ill.
“What if I say the wrong thing?”
“It won’t matter. Charli says the wrong thing all the time. They’re used to it.”
It was a pointless comparison. Anything inappropriate that crossed Charli’s lips was bound to be intentional.
“I just want things to go smoothly.”
He didn’t seem to be listening. The thin straps of my dress slipped off my shoulders as he undid the zip at the back.
“What are you doing, Ryan?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He swept my hair over my shoulder and pressed his lips to the back of my neck. “I’m comforting you in your hour of need.”
I pushed him out of the room, not stopping until he fell back on the bed. Ignoring the damage I was doing to my perfectly pressed dress, I crashed on top of him.
“We have to be there in half an hour,” I reminded, muffling the words against his neck.
In a move I didn’t see coming, Ryan rolled, stealing the air in my lungs as he landed on top of me. “I only need half an hour.”
I was in big trouble. It wasn’t the weight of him that made me breathless. It was everything about him. Every promise I’d made to myself about taking things slowly to lessen the pain of the inevitable crash and burn had gone out the window. I was all-in.
***
I had a weird sense of déjà vu when I stepped out of the cab. The Décarie building was a majestic old brownstone that I’d admired a hundred times from the park over the road; its beautiful carved mouldings, wrought iron balconies and huge arched windows always caught my eye. I knew it would be a grand residence – there are no hovels on Fifth Avenue. I just wasn’t expecting it to be this building.
“You live here?” I asked, making doubly sure.
“No,” he clarified. “My mom and dad do.”
This inside of the building was just as impressive. I think I stopped breathing once we got in the elevator. It made talking difficult. “Do you think Adam and Charli will show up?”
Ryan shrugged and continued rolling the cuff of his white dress shirt further up his arm. “They should. They were invited.”
I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Charli and felt a little better. They had to be there. It was the rules. When the front door opened, I felt better still. Charli answered.
Ryan frowned. “You just can’t find good help these days.”
She tried closing the door in his face but he was too quick and wedged his foot in the way. “Get out of my way, Tink,” he commanded. “We’ve got real company tonight.”
“Oh, yes. Fresh blood.” She could sound positively evil when she tried. “Welcome.” She drew out the word, dipped her head and curtsied.
I suddenly felt terrified. Not even the sight of Bridget bounding into the foyer calmed me. She ran at Ryan, stopping only because he scooped her up. “Hi Ry,” she beamed as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks.
“Hey, little girl,” he replied. “Where’s your papa?”
“Talking to Papy,” she told him.
I decided to test the Bridget waters and try talking to her. “Hi, Bridget.” My cheery tone took some work. “How are you?”
“I have my boots here,” she replied, twisting in Ryan’s arms to lift her bare foot. “They’re over there.”
I turned to see the little junked up boots standing near the door. “That’s awesome,” I replied truthfully.
She agreed. “Very awesome.”
It was a pointless conversation that was headed nowhere, but I welcomed anything that saved me from venturing into the next room. Respite was brief. The double glass doors slid back a few seconds later and I stood face to face with Queen Fiona.
She indiscreetly looked me up and down before speaking. “Darlings,” she finally crooned, arms outstretched.
Ryan kissed her cheek before lowering Bridget to her feet. I wasn’t quite sure of kissing protocol so I waited for Fiona to make the first move. She put both hands on my upper arms and almost connected as she pecked each cheek. “Bente, welcome to our home. You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” I replied, relieved that I’d passed muster.
“Why don’t you go through to the lounge? Ryan will show you around,” she suggested. “I must check on dinner.”
Ryan waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. “She’s cooking?” he asked Charli.
Charli nodded. “Eve-ry-thing.”
He turned his attention back to me. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you, but tonight you’re going to have to grin and bear it. You’re one of us now. Good luck and Godspeed.”
Charli laughed. I managed a slight smile.
Ryan didn’t give me time to dwell. He took my hand and led me into the lounge.
It took a long moment to take it all in. The room looked nothing like I imagined it would. Ryan’s apartment was sleek and modern. His parents’ home was the exact opposite, furnished with ornate wooden furniture. Every piece looked antique and heavy, a perfect statement of wealth and grandeur. The only thing out of place was the pair of tiny bare feet sticking out under the coffee table.
Adam walked in, and I was grateful for the friendly face. “Hey, Bente,” he said warmly. I added a weird half-wave to my hello. Jean-Luc followed closely behind. He offered me a hand. “Welcome, Bente. It’s been a long time.”
He remembered me. Hopefully that meant I had a head start when it came to making a good impression.
Jean-Luc invited me to sit. I glanced at Ryan, silently willing him to do the same. He took the hint and sat beside me on the longest leather couch I’d ever seen.
The Décarie men all possessed the same charm and identical killer smiles. They also shared the same knack for putting people at ease with polite conversation. I couldn’t be sure if Jean-Luc’s interest in me was genuine, but I was glad he was keeping the conversation alive. He asked me about my life in Boston and my new career plans for New York.
“I’m hoping something comes up soon,” I told him. “For now I’m waitressing at Billet-doux.”
He nodded. “You’re a brig
ht girl. I’m sure you’ll secure a job worthy of your talents soon – hopefully something more substantial than waitressing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with waitressing,” said Charli, appearing out of nowhere with a tray of canapés in her hand.
“Indeed, Charli,” agreed Jean-Luc. “Some people are well suited to service industries. The hue of that silver platter suits you immensely.”
Charli held the tray out to him. “You’re too kind.”
Jean-Luc took a canapé and turned his attention to Bridget, who was still under the table. “Alors, viens ma petite. Viens manger un morceau.”
“I’m not hungry, Papy,” she replied. “I’m working under here.”
Charli set the tray on the coffee table and took up position on the arm of the couch next to Adam. Clearly nervousness wasn’t an issue for them. He slipped his arm around her as if they were lounging in their own home.
I took mental notes as I studied Ryan’s family. It didn’t take long to work out that I’d been worrying unnecessarily. Everyone worked hard to make me feel welcome, and the only insincerity I detected came when everyone praised Fiona’s cooking. It had to be a lie. She’d served up the vilest attempt at lasagne I’d ever been subjected to.
The only person on the receiving end of any hostility was Charli, but Jean-Luc’s occasional digs didn’t seem to faze her. Fiona was quick to defend her and Adam was even faster. I soon worked out that protecting her was unnecessary. Charlotte Décarie was no victim. She gave as good as she got. From what I could tell, she relished winding Jean-Luc up as much as he enjoyed trying to pull her into line.
Unlike Charli, I wasn’t interested in making waves. The best road in was the quiet one. Ryan would appreciate the peace, his parents would appreciate the amenability and I’d enjoy the lack of drama.
31. DELIVERY
Ryan
Bente sometimes stayed up late, writing long into the night. Inexplicably, she’d still wake early the next morning, bright eyed and cheery – even on Wednesdays.
Wednesday mornings should’ve been the bane of her existence. Every week she made an early morning trek to Astoria to have breakfast with Ivy and the girls. Unlike her, I don’t cope well with little sleep or breakfast with the squealers so I never went, opting for an extra hour in bed instead.