The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (117 page)

“I wanted to have a perfect day out with my favorite girls.”  He leans down and kisses Regan on top of her little head as she beams with pride.

“Maybe you can clear something up for me.  I heard you talking about restricted parking and a private viewing, but what were you talking about when you mentioned ‘discharged’?”

“Discharged?”  Evan has a confused look on his face.  Then I see it hit him. “Admission charge – I was asking what the admission charge would be for the three of us.”

I smile at him, hiding the fact that for a fraction of a millisecond I doubted him.  I’m incredibly grateful that Adam called when he did, stopping me from invading Evan’s privacy.  I should have known better.

I have just enough time to ask one more question before the show begins. “How did you pull this off – a private viewing in the Hayden Planetarium?”

“One of the producers of Cosmos is an old friend of mine from UMD.  I promised him tickets to a playoff game if he could pull some strings with his boss, Neil deGrasse Tyson.  The two of them might be joining you in our suite if we make it to the playoffs this year.”

Right on cue, the room darkens and Dr. Tyson’s unmistakable voice echoes throughout the room, starting the show.  I feel Evan’s strong hand on my shoulder, tracing soft, lazy circles as he stares up at the sky.  This man is my hope, my dream, and my fantasy.  No one will ever be able to take his place in my heart.  He really has ruined me.

A
s soon as the car starts moving, Regan is sound asleep.  She did a lot of walking today.  She must be exhausted.  She’s certainly going to sleep well for Callie tonight. 

We arrive at Evan’s sister’s house just in time for dinner.  Evan carries Regan up to her room while I help Callie set the table.  Her husband Dean emerges from the basement, carrying a bottle of red wine. 

Callie knows her brother’s dietary demands during football season, and has prepared one of his favorites, shepherd’s pie.  She makes it the traditional way, with ground lamb.  The potatoes are whipped, not mashed, and it looks like she used a pastry bag to add them to the top of the casserole.  Callie really is a wonderful home cook.

As she serves, Dean pours everyone a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.  We share the highlights of our museum visit, and Evan can’t help but say something to his sister.  “Oh, and Callie – I should thank you for the promotion to stud-muffin.  It’s much better than my old nickname.  Jerk wad.”  Dean and Callie share a smirk.

“Well, little brother, when we were growing up, you were a jerk wad.  I thought it was time for me to find a more appropriate name that I could say in front of my little girl.  She’s like a tiny voice recorder, repeating everything I say.”  Callie turns and asks me, “If she pulled the stud muffin card, I guess that means he was hounded by some female fans again today.”

I tell her about our only encounter and how well Regan followed her mother’s directions to stay close to me.  Callie is thrilled to hear that her daughter actually did what she was told.  She’s doing a wonderful job raising such a sweet little girl.

“So, who are you expecting for Thanksgiving dinner?” I ask out of curiosity.  “I’m sorry we won’t be with you guys this year.”  Evan gives me an affirming squeeze on my knee.

This year, Evan and I are hosting Thanksgiving dinner at our home with our friends.  Derek has no immediate family nearby, and Reese doesn’t want to fly out to Wisconsin to see hers.  She bought tickets to fly home for Christmas, so she’ll be spending Thanksgiving here in New Jersey.  When Emmy and Adam found out what we were doing, they changed their plans and agreed to join us, along with Auggie and Lucas.  I’m really looking forward to Thanksgiving this year.

“Actually, when we found out that you guys had your own plans, we made plans ourselves.  We’re flying out to see my cousins in Maine.  My father hasn’t seen his brother in over a year and we thought it was time for a visit.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met those cousins.”  I know Evan’s father comes from a fairly large family, but I’ve never met any of them.

Evan takes a break from inhaling his dinner to join in our conversation.  “Hey, will Cole be there?  How’s he doing?”

Callie nods.  “Yeah, he’s up from Charlotte for a while.  I hear he might get traded again.”

I turn to Evan. “Traded?  Does he play football too?”

Evan laughs. “No way!  Cole is too much of a pussy to play football.  He plays baseball.  He couldn’t handle playing a real sport.”

Dean interrupts. “Don’t start that shit again, Evan.  Baseball is just as hardcore as football.  Only they don’t get a week between games.  Professional baseball players squeeze a hundred and sixty-two games into their season.”

Evan and Dean continue their intellectual debate about the rigors of professional sports.  I ask Callie for more information about this cousin I’ve never met.

“Cole’s been passed around from team to team in the minor leagues.  He plays triple-A ball.  Evan and Cole grew up more like brothers than cousins.  They’ve always been competitive.  They competed for attention, girls, and sports.  I guess Evan’s slightly ahead in all three categories right now.”  Callie looks over at her little brother and I can see the pride in her eyes.

“Neither one would admit it, but when Uncle Joe moved the family to Bangor while the boys were in high school, they were both devastated.  Cole is a year younger than Evan, and he’s always idolized his cousin.” 

“Damn.  Now I feel even worse.  Evan would probably rather visit his family in Maine.  The last thing I want to do is tear him away from his family.”

“Don’t be silly, Juliette.  Evan’s getting married.  He’s starting his own family.  This is what happens.  But we will be seeing you both at Christmas, right?” she asks Evan directly.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles with his mouth full as he takes a second helping of shepherd’s pie.  It might actually be his third helping, I’m not sure.

After our meal, Callie and I clean up while Evan and Dean head into the living room to watch television.  Thanks to Evan, there’s not much left for us to clean up, and when we join the boys they are talking animatedly about the Sentinels’ playoff chances.  Everyone wants to see the team make it to the divisional round at the very least.  If Evan wins his conference title and takes his team to the Super Bowl, it will be the first time ever a rookie quarterback has made it all the way to the big game.  Evan knows the odds are stacked against him, so he’s setting his sights on just making it to the conference championship game.  It would be a real accomplishment if that happens.

In the middle of our discussion, Regan comes toddling down the steps and announces to her mother, “I’m hungry.”  Evan and I take that as our cue to say our goodnights and slip out.  We have a long drive home ahead of us.

E
van has practice today, so I decide to spend the day with Reese.  I’m hoping I can wheedle some information from her.  I still suspect that pregnancy test belongs to either her or Emmy.  What would happen if Reese were pregnant with Derek’s child?  Would she go through with it?  Would she keep it?  She has ambitions and goals, and having a baby right now would not fit her plans. 

We’re going to go food shopping for Thanksgiving dinner.  There’s a Whole Foods store in Red Bank, so we agree to make the drive out there and buy some natural ingredients.  Reese wants to make an organic cranberry sauce and I want to make a ricotta cheesecake infused with chai.  I’d rather not use processed ricotta for something as creamy and delicate as a cheesecake.

I pick her up early at her townhouse.  She found an adorable condo with a detached garage just a few blocks from the boardwalk.  It feels safe and private.  I know she likes it because it doesn’t have the same maintenance requirements a house would.  I just can’t see Reese mowing the lawn or raking leaves.

I knock on her door, and she’s ready to roll.  With her purse in one hand and a shopping list in the other, she hops into the car and we head straight to Whole Foods.  She’s a captive audience and it seems the perfect time to drill her for some information.

“So Reese, how have you been feeling lately?  Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine.  Why?  Do I look sick?”  She pulls down the visor and starts inspecting her complexion.

“No, it’s not that.  It’s just ... I don’t know.  You used to come in to work early before your shift and hang out late afterward, but I hardly see you anymore.  I thought maybe you were tired or sick or something.”

“Well, I have been a little tired lately.”  She hesitates and I can tell there’s more that she’s not saying.

“Reese, can I ask you something?”

“I guess,” she answers apprehensively.

“What’s going on with you and Derek?  Are you avoiding him?”

She gazes out the window as we drive through town.  With a sigh, she asks, “Is it that obvious?”  She shakes her head and I can see her shiver as a chill runs through her veins.

“Only because I know you so well.  But what I don’t get is why.  You’ve never been one to hide in a corner before.  What’s going on that has you all shaken up?” 

“It’s complicated,” she mumbles. 

“Is that all I get?  It’s complicated?  What does that even mean?”

“It means my relationship with Derek is complicated.  Can we talk about something else, please?”

I guess that’s all the information I’m going to get from her – for now.

As we walk up and down the aisles, I find all sorts of goodies.  There are whole vanilla beans that I cannot find anywhere else.  We find a variety of artisan breads and fresh fruits and vegetables that are not commonly available in our local supermarkets.  Reese insists on buying a free-range turkey, and before long the cart is full and my budget is exhausted. 

When we arrive back at the beach house, Reese and I get busy preparing what we can ahead of time.  My first task is making an apple pie.  Reese busies herself making the stuffing and cranberry sauce.

I take a short break from my baking and put on Sports Center so I can listen to it while we work.  I’ve come to enjoy listening to the banter.  When Evan and I first started dating, I hardly knew anything about professional football, including the main players.  I don’t ever want to be caught in that position again.  When Evan talks about his opponents, I want to know whom he’s talking about.  When we go to social functions together, I want to know a little bit about the people we see there.  And when they talk about my future husband, I want to know what they are saying.

On the way back to the kitchen, I stop at the mini bar and grab the chilled bottle of Pinot Noir that Evan and I opened last night.  I take two wine glasses from the cabinet and join Reese back in the kitchen.  I pour a glass and hand it to her. 

“No, thank you, I’ll pass,” she says.  I look at her suspiciously and she immediately explains, “Red wine’s been giving me migraines lately.  I think it’s probably the tannins or the sulfites.” 

Holy cow!  Reese is refusing to drink alcohol. 

She’s just jumped to the top of my list of suspected pregos.  I’m going to push a little harder, just to make sure.

“I could open a bottle of white wine if you prefer.  Maybe a nice Riesling or Moscato.”  I walk over to the special wine cabinet Evan and I had installed near the mini bar and start checking labels.

“Don’t bother,” Reese calls to me.  “I’d much rather have a glass of sparkling water.  We just bought these fresh Meyer lemons and I’ve been dying to have one.”  When I stand back up, she tosses me one.  “Here.  Slice it up for me, will you?”

“No problem,” I tell her, grabbing the cutting board and paring knife.  I look over at Reese and try to picture her pregnant.  She would probably be one of those women who look even more beautiful while she’s expecting.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.”  Reese stops what she’s doing and gives me her full attention.  “You’ll never guess who called me yesterday.”

“Hmm.  Let’s see.  Was is President Obama inviting you to cook for the next State Dinner?”  We used to joke around about cooking for kings and queens some day.

“Not even close.  Who’s the last person you’d want to hear from right now?” she asks.