“Arena,” Ziggy corrects.
Freya waves it off. “Whatever. We’re a soccer family.” She smiles at me. “Ren’s said such great things about you for so long.”
I catch his eye and watch him turn bright red. “Oh?”
She cocks a blonde eyebrow. “I mean, he’s been crazy about you for—”
Ren cuts her off with a hug, muffling her against his chest before he sets her at arm’s length. “Freya Linn. You’ve been wimping out on me.”
She thumps his stomach with a loose fist, but it just bounces off his abs. She shakes out her hand. “Am not.”
Ren smiles at me, hooking an arm around Freya’s neck, pulling her in and giving her a noogie. She twists his nipple, which makes him yelp and spin away.
“Strumpet,” he calls her.
She lunges for his nipple again, but he’s too fast. Setting his hands gently on Ziggy’s shoulders, he stands behind her. “The birthday girl is base. No more nipples.”
This is the real Ren. The one I’m seeing a little bit more of each day I’m with him. Playful, dorky, a smidge antagonistic, still a bit bashful. My smile’s so wide my cheeks hurt, watching him among his family.
“Happy birthday, Zigs.” Ren hugs her from behind and kisses the top of Ziggy’s head, slipping a card into her hand.
She tears it open, reads it, folding what looks like a gift card tight in her grip. When she glances up at him, she’s teary eyed. She hugs him for a long moment, and he hugs her back.
Ziggy turns to face us all and wipes her nose. “Ren got me a gift card big enough to get the cleats I wanted,” she says quietly.
Elin smiles over at Ren and shakes her head. “The money Americans spend on shoes—”
“They’re not shoes,” Ziggy says defensively. “They’re cleats, and they mean so much to me. Thank you, Ren.” She hugs him again. When she turns back from hugging him, she smiles at me, stacking the gift card on top of the book I got her. “I’m glad you brought Frankie,” she says.
Ren grins at me over Ziggy’s head. “I’m glad I brought Frankie, too.”
My cheeks heat. Ren’s looking at me how he looked at me when he stepped past me, then into the shower this morning, and it’s revving my engine in ways that aren’t acceptable for family gatherings.
“So.” I turn toward Freya. “What’s this challenge he’s talking about?”
“Freya and I are doing a squat challenge,” Ren answers. “But she’s failed to report her reps for the past week.” He points to Freya’s long, muscular legs sticking out of ripped-up denim shorts. “Clearly, she’s slacking.”
Freya narrows her eyes at him from the other side of the kitchen island. “I’m not slacking.” Inverting a giant bottle of wine into a tall glass pitcher, she steals a piece of fruit from the pile that Elin’s chopping next to her. “I’ve just been a little busy with work, lifting and moving the human body all day. I could squat-press you, Ren.”
Ren lets out a low whistle. “Challenge accepted.”
Elin smiles to herself. “Do you have siblings, Frankie?”
“An older sister.”
“Ah,” Elin says, peering up at me. “You’re close, then.”
“No, not really. I mean we love each other, but there’s an age gap and a country between us.”
“Hm.” Elin glances down at her task. I feel like I just failed a test or something.
Willa leans in and whispers, “Don’t worry, she’s just curious. There’s no right or wrong answer. Trust me. If I got folded into this family, anyone can.” Pulling out a stool at the island, Willa pats it. “Come on, sit.”
Ren opens his mouth, probably to tell her they kill my hips, but I talk before he can. “Ren, why don’t you go say hi to the guys? I’ll hang here for a little, then wander out and visit with them. Gives me some time to settle in.”
Ren seems torn, his eyes dancing between the women like he doesn’t quite trust them. Suddenly he points a finger at Freya, then to his mother. “You two. No embarrassing stories from the early years. Frankie’s seen me make a fool out of myself enough.”
Freya rolls her eyes. “Why are men so fragile? We have other things to talk about besides the time you pooped in Grandpa’s hat after it had fallen off the coatrack and landed upside down.”
“I was potty training!” Ren yells. “It looked exactly like the kiddie toilet upstairs.”
Elin throws her head back in laughter. “Oh. That one gets me. Every time.”
Ziggy glances up from her phone. “Best part of that story is, nobody noticed until Grandpa put his hat on his head.”
Willa blasts a laugh next to me. But my eyes stay locked on Ren who stands flushed and embarrassed from ten feet away. “Søren—”
The room goes silent.
“What did you just call him?” Freya says.
Ren smiles at me, ignoring her. “Yes, Francesca.”
“I did almost the same thing.”
Ziggy drops her phone on the counter. “You did?”
“Mhmm.” Extending my hand, I wait for Ren to come within reach. When he does, I wrap my arm around his warm, solid back. “Except I was at Mass, and I figured the baptismal font seemed as good a place as any to take a pee.”
Willa slaps the counter and laughs. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” I slide my hand along Ren’s back and rub gently between his shoulders, meeting his eyes.
See? You’re not alone. So long as I’m here.
I wish he could read my mind, could hear what I want him to know.
And, the funniest thing happens. It’s as if he does just that. Because he leans in, with a soft kiss to that tender place behind my ear, and whispers, “Thank you.”
No sooner does Ren make for the sliding glass door leading out to their deck, but a tall blonde throws it open and bumps into him. Tugging the door shut behind her, she greets everyone happily. Golden hair cut blunt to her shoulders. Sparkly eyes that dance between green and blue, land and sea.
She is sunshine incarnate.
And when she looks up at Ren, I want to summon lightning and smite her.
He gives her a hug hello and quickly steps back. Standing next to each other, they could not be more perfect looking. A very odd, terrible feeling settles in my stomach.
That’s the kind of person I used to picture Ren with. An effortless social butterfly—emotionally nimble, expertly gregarious, who passes out smiles like a pageant queen at the parade.
She even looks like him somehow. Statuesque and tall. Strong features, wide smile, alluring body.
“Well?” She elbows him in the ribs. “Can I finally meet her?”
Willa clears her throat. “Since you were my friend first, Rooster, I’d like to do the honors. Rooney, this is Frankie. Ren’s lady love.”
So this is Rooney, Willa’s best friend from college.
Rooney walks away from Ren, leans in and gives me a gentle hug. “So good to finally meet you.”
When she straightens and winks at me, it’s as blindingly unnerving as staring into the sun. But maybe I’m just that unused to people as pathologically cheery as Rooney. She puts Ren’s temperament to shame.