Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (37 page)

I could understand his fear, his doubts, but he’d had issues too, it wasn’t all me.

“Ryan, you have a history too, you know. The pining over Carrie. The long string of girls that followed. A lot of that string being my friends, and let’s not forget to throw a mother in there,” I said. “We both had things we were working through. Maybe we just weren’t ready at the start. We had to go down this rocky road to get here.”

“
Could be,” he said tilting his head towards mine. “
Here
is good,
here
is where I want to be, with you.”

When he kisse
d me, the floodgate opened. The love and the longing, the wanting and desire, spilled out with a force that was overwhelming. Ryan could feel it, I could tell, and he let me take control. I rolled him onto his back, straddling him, teasing his body until he couldn’t stand it anymore. When he urgently grabbed my hips and lowered me onto him, it was with a hunger that made me shiver.

I lay on my back next to him, still feeling flushed.
I’m getting married to my best friend!
I couldn’t wait to see my parent’s reaction, couldn’t wait to tell the world.

“Willing to g
ive up the Casanova Cowboy ways?” I teased.

“The Casanova part anyway
,” he said with a grin. “I’m hoping you’ll let me keep the cowboy part.”

Chapter 47

My parents came to dinner the following night. It was all I could do to get everyone a glass of wine before I told them the news with Ryan smiling at my side.

“We’re getting married,” I said beaming.

“Oh, my god,” Mom screamed, and jumped towards us in delight.

She
almost spilled her wine as she flung her arms around the two of us. I could see Dad smiling over her shoulder. She had tears in her eyes when she let go and she hurried to her purse for a tissue.

“No wonder your table is set so beautifully, it’s a celebration,” she said dabbing at her eyes.

“Congratulations,” my dad said reaching to shake Ryan’s hand.

The
small dining table was set with my nicest stuff, brightly colored cloth mats and napkins, red candleholders with white candles. I’d fixed a seafood stew and the aroma filled the air. We sat in the living room drinking wine and talking. Of course Mom wanted all the details, and we laughed about Ryan’s choice of venue. I served the stew in bright white bowls along with soft sourdough bread. 

“Do you not like it
, Mom?” I asked her when I noticed how little she ate.

“I love it
, honey. I’m just not that hungry.”

“You’ve lost weight
, Mom,” I complimented her.

“That’s a good thing
,” she said with a smile. “I need to go buy some new clothes, so mine don’t hang on me.”

Mom was
pretty consistently a size ten. She had been very thin when she was younger and had complained through the years about gaining weight, dieting off and on. Diets that mostly didn’t work, since she hated to exercise.

“Sometimes stress is a good thing
,” she laughed again.

I knew s
he was referring to the situation with Ryan and me.

“When we
look at wedding dresses for you, we can do some shopping for me,” she said excitedly.

Over the next few months, Ryan and I were so busy planning for the wedding. There were so many decisions that needed to be made. It became a little easier when Ryan moved back into the condo; I didn’t have to chase him down because he was home every night.

I got rid of my dates
. Most fiction and actually spent with Luke, who joked that he would miss our nights out. He was happy for me that I was happy although he still thought Ryan and my’s journey was too rough. It worried him. Liz, my other “date”, was thrilled by the news and was to be in the wedding so she was around a lot.

Ryan and I
went to a jeweler and custom designed our wedding rings, picking out the settings, and even the diamonds to fill mine. It was such an exciting time. I even got a real job. I accepted a position as a loan officer at a national mortgage company and reluctantly quit my Chart House job. I missed the people, but not the nights.

The afternoon when I left the to go
shopping for my wedding dress, Ryan gave me a hug and told me to find something pretty, knowing how excited I was. As I drove over to pick up my mom, I thought how funny it was that I had walked by the bridal shop in the mall so many times over the years, but it wasn’t until Ryan and I started dating that I had paid much attention to it. My thoughts soon veered to the dresses I had looked at in
Brides
magazine. I had an idea of what I wanted, but in the end, I knew a lot of my decision would come down to cost. I wanted to keep this event affordable for my parents.

Mom
and I looked through the racks of white dresses, holding up various ones for each other’s review. We finally decided on six for me to try on. As the store clerk assisted me getting into the first dress, Mom smiled. The raw emotion I saw in her face once I had the dress on clutched at my heart. Her bottom lip quivered and I thought she might cry.

“You look beautiful, l
ike a princess,” she said with awe. “Do you feel as beautiful as you look?”

I nodded
, admiring the dress in the mirror, rotating left than right. The clerk helped me try on all six. The fourth one hit both Mom and me in particular, and we went back to that one a second time. When I put it back on, we admired the cut, the beading, the way it fit my body. I smiled, imagining Ryan seeing me in it as I came down the aisle.

“Do you think Ryan will like it?” I asked.

“He already thinks you’re beautiful, but in this dress—yes, he’ll like it. I think this is the one, Morgan.”

When she smiled at me standing there
, turning slowly in the mirror, I knew she was right. I couldn’t believe I was going to be a bride, that I was really going to marry my true love.

Ryan and I decided on a location for the wedding and the reception
before Christmas rolled around. Our rings were finished, and Ryan told me I could wear mine for Christmas Day, but it would have to go back in the box until the wedding. Christmas was spent at my parents’ house, and again, Mom and I competed on decorating our trees. Hers won again. How could it not with the memories the ornaments brought back. Ryan thought it was funny that we competed; his family had their traditions, but they were not over-the-top like ours. Still, I intended to start these traditions for Ryan and me, and I dreamed of collecting our own ornaments and memories.

Mom
fixed a turkey dinner with all the side dishes. The dining room table was set with china and silver and the house smelled of browning turkey. I had helped with one of Ryan’s favorite dishes, a Jell-O salad that my grandmother had come up with. Ryan always raved about Mom’s cooking, and she loved the attention. She was a great cook, and unfortunately, we as a family didn’t praise her enough.

“
Patty, once again your dinner was wonderful,” Ryan said, as we sat at the table after his third helping.

“Yeah, Mom good dinner,” Pat said.

              “I hope you all saved room for dessert,” she said, getting up and gathering several plates.

             
“None for me,” Dad said, pushing his chair back from the table and relaxing into it.

             
I smiled at Ryan as I got up to help her clear the table, picking up more plates. Ryan started to stand and I waved at him to sit. Following Mom into the kitchen I noticed that she seemed thinner.

             
“Mom, what’s up with the weight loss? Are you back dieting?” I asked.

“I
haven’t been real hungry. I fill up fast,” she answered.

She was proud of her weight loss
, so I figured she must be working to keep it off, however she was looking a little too thin. She started rinsing the dishes handing them to me to put them in the dishwasher, stacking the silver flatware to wash by hand.

“H
ow long has it been since you had a physical?” I asked.        Mom avoided doctors as much as possible, she just didn’t

like them.

“I have in fact,” she answered proudly.

“Wow
, I’m in shock,” I said, surprised.

“
Everything’s fine,” she said itching her nose with the back of her wet hand. “They ran some tests, but they didn’t find anything wrong.”

That seemed strange to me for a physical.

“What kind of tests? Are you feeling bad?” I asked accepting another rinsed plate.

I was suddenly worried as to why
she hadn’t mentioned anything to me about going to the doctor or having tests done. Normally, when she went to see her doctor, I got to hear her complain for week’s prior. I wondered if she was hiding something from me.

“No
, I feel fine. It’s just normal tests,” she answered brushing me off.

I
searched her face for more of an answer. She smiled.

“It’s nothing
,” she said with assurance. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“
Does Dad know?” I asked.

“Yes
, he knows. I tell him when I’m going to the doctor,” she said, like I was being foolish.

“
Would you tell me if something was wrong?” I asked.

“Of course
,” she said, patting my arm. “Now get dessert going, I’ll get the rest of the dishes.”

As she made her way back to the dining room
to clear more of the table, I pulled out the pies she had baked, putting slivers of pumpkin and pecan on each plate. When we finished dessert, Ryan and I packed up our Christmas gifts and headed home.

“I’m worried about Mom
,” I said as Ryan drove.

“Why?” he asked.

“She looks like she’s lost more weight, and she’s eating like a bird,” I said.

“Your
mom never was a big eater,” he said.

“I know
, but the weight thing worries me. She says she’s seen a doctor and nothing is wrong. She hates doctors, she’s seriously afraid of them,” I fretted, looking out into the dark night. “She doesn’t go just because. She hardly goes when she’s sick.”

Car lights coming the opposite way came at us bright, then brighter, and then whooshed past us. The freeway was busy it seemed
to me for Christmas night.

“She’s lost weight
, but she doesn’t look sick,” Ryan said. “I wouldn’t worry.”

She didn’t look sic
k, just too skinny. The doctor thing was what really bothered me, it was always a big deal, and now it wasn’t.

“
When I was ten, she had a cough for a really long time, longer than normal, and it kept getting worse. She simply refused to go to the doctor. When we finally made her, well, Dad did, it was pneumonia. She was sicker than a dog. The doctor scolded her for waiting so long. He told her it could have killed her. It scared me to see her so sick,” I pondered.

I remembered how
she looked that time, almost grey in color and coughing so badly she could hardly breathe. It was when we lived in San Jose and I was afraid to leave her to go to school. I’d begged Dad to make her go see someone.

“
I wonder if she’s ignoring something now.”

Mid-January she got the flu when Dad was out of town on a business trip. I talked to her on the phone several times a day to check on her. She was adamant that she didn’t want us to come by and get it. After three days of me worrying, Ryan decided he would stop by her house on the way home from the airport. He called me while he was there.

“I think I should stay with her
, Morgan. She’s really bad,” Ryan said.

“Go home
, Ryan,” she said in the background. “I’m fine.”

“Should I come?” I asked.

“I can stay,” he said.

For Ryan to say he could stay with her made me uneasy. I hadn’t seen her and she’d convinced me she was fine, he obviously didn’t think she was fine.

“You’re not staying, and no, she doesn’t need to come,” she called out loudly.

“
She doesn’t sound so bad,” I teased, hearing the tone of her voice. “Do as she says. We can check on her in the morning.”

Ryan
got home about thirty minutes later, Bo charging through the door before him.

“I felt bad leaving her
,” he said setting his keys on the shelf. “Of course being your mom she doesn’t think she needs help, but she really doesn’t look good. I think you should go back for the night.”

The way he said it concerned
me. Ryan didn’t overreact. Normally he was the even-keeled one of the two of us.

“Really?”

“I think she’s sick enough that she needs someone there, get her aspirin, juice, whatever. She has a fever, and with your dad away, there’s no one around if she needs help. She’s that sick,” he said.

I rubbed my temples.
Dad would be gone several more days and if Ryan thought she might need help I should go.

“
I’ll go for the night. Now you have me worried, and I would just lie awake all night thinking I should be there. Damn her, she always plays so tough,” I said.

Ryan was
relieved I was going which intensified my worry. I hurriedly packed a small bag and drove to her house. When I got in, I saw instantly why Ryan was concerned. She looked ashen in color, and she was wrapped up in blankets on the couch, shivering uncontrollably.

“Mom
, you are really sick,” I scolded.

I
sat on the edge of the couch, reaching my hand to her forehead and feeling how hot and clammy it was.

“I told
Ryan not to have you come. You should be home with him,” she said miserably.

“He was worried
, Mom, and I see why. How long have you been this sick? You haven’t said anything to me on the phone, except to stay away,” I said headed to the kitchen to get a cool towel.

I was mad at myself for lett
ing her convince me she was fine, mad I hadn’t heard more in her voice.

“It started a couple of days ago
, but today is the worst. I’m on fire one minute and then freezing cold the next,” she said, her jaw trembling because she was shaking.