Minor Adjustments (12 page)

Devon dropped down on a barstool next to Ryan. Maybe if he kicked a door or threw something at a wall. It always seemed to make Ryan feel better.

“What’s it going to take to get you to like peanut butter like normal American kids?” Devon asked.

“Peanut butter is yuck.” Ryan munched away on his sandwich.

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No—”

“Boys!” Lydia shook her head at Devon. “Honestly. I thought you were an adult.”

“Ryan brings out the kid in me. So where’s my sandwich?”

Devon got the look—the one that said, “I’m not your servant, fix it yourself.” He hadn’t seen it in years, not since high school. It actually made him smile.

“But you made Ryan one.”

“Fine.” Lydia pulled the Vegemite from the cupboard. “If that’s what you want.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.” Devon went to the refrigerator and rummaged around, pulling out deli meat and cheese—the stuff normal sandwiches consist of.

Lydia wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I need to run to the grocery store. Can I trust you two to behave while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be good,” Ryan said, and for that he got a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about.” Lydia cast Devon a meaningful look, picked up her purse, and left.

“Thanks a lot,” Devon said. “You’ve officially ousted me as the favorite child.”

“What does ousta mean?”

“Never mind.” Devon threw cold cuts onto a slice of bread and rejoined Ryan. “So tell me, what kind of house do you want to live in?”

“A teepee in the jungle.”

Devon nodded, as though seriously considering it. “That’s a great idea. I mean, who needs a big house with a cool bed, a play set out back, or a big yard for a dog—” Wait. Did he really just say “dog”? Crap.

“I want to live in a house with a dog!” Ryan bounced around on his chair. “Can we get more fish too?”

Yes, fish. Fish now sounded great. Way better than a dog. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have both pets. The dog might hurt the fish. So would you rather have a lot of colorful and awesome fish or a dirty, smelly dog?”

Ryan grinned. “A dog, a dog!”

Swell, Devon. Totally brilliant. It’s no wonder you’re jobless.
“We’ll need to find a house with a yard and a fence first.”

“Yay! Can we get a really big dog?”

“Sure, why not?” Devon bit into his sandwich and chewed slowly. At least he’d neutralized one problem. Ryan no longer wanted to live in a teepee in the jungle.

Devon lugged the last cardboard box inside and dropped it on the kitchen counter of his new home, next to the dozen other boxes he’d already brought in. There wasn’t much. He’d been too busy working to buy more than the necessities, and his apartment in Chicago had been fully furnished.

Unlike this house. It was a four bedroom, colonial rambler, peeking out from behind massive maple and pine trees. The half acre lot with a fenced backyard had been the selling point for Ryan.

“A big dog will fit here,” he had said.

But Devon liked it for another reason. The faded, crumbling paint on the front porch. The windows that struggled to open and close. The scratched and warped wooden floor. The squeaky, dysfunctional cupboard doors. Although the overall structure was solid, the surface needed a makeover—and Devon now had the time and inclination to give it one. He’d worked for a general contractor each summer during college and now looked forward to using those skills to stay busy—at least until he could figure out what he wanted to do next.

Since the house had been in foreclosure, it had taken several months of negotiations and waiting on the bank. In August, they’d finally agreed on a number, and Devon signed two weeks later. Hallelujah. Although he’d wanted to get some of the renovations done before they moved in, Ryan refused to wait any longer. He wanted his dog.

So Devon loaded up Jack’s truck and moved them in, knowing they’d be “roughing it” for a few days. The newly purchased beds, sofa, refrigerator, and washer and dryer wouldn’t arrive until the following day, so it was pizza for dinner and “camping” on the floor of the family room. Ryan was as excited as a puppy and Devon another day closer to owning one.

“Hello?” Lydia called from the front room. “We’re back with the pizza.”

Ryan burst into the kitchen, carrying a large pizza box. Lydia and Jack followed behind with another.

“Can we get my dog now?”

Devon chucked Ryan’s chin. “Not until Friday. Just like I’ve told you ten times already.”

“Is tomorrow Friday?”

Lydia took the pizza from Ryan and set it on the counter. “No. Friday is still three sleeps away.”

“Can I go to bed now?”

Devon laughed. “Sure. But that won’t make Friday come any sooner.” A dog was actually starting to sound pretty good. At least then Ryan would stop his incessant begging.

After they’d eaten and Devon’s parents had left, Ryan asked, “Can we go get my dog now? Please?”

Devon wasn’t sure he could take three more days of this. “How about this? We’ll go to the pound and look, but you won’t be able to bring him home until Friday. Deal?”

“Yay!” Ryan ran for his shoes, putting them on in record time.

Unfortunately, the pound was closed. They were twenty minutes too late. “We’ll come back tomorrow after your bed is delivered,” Devon promised. “But only if you don’t ask until it’s all put together in your room, okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan’s expression fell, but he didn’t whine, argue, or throw a fit. Such progress deserved positive reinforcement, so they went out for ice cream.

Later that night, Devon stared at the family room ceiling, waiting for Ryan to fall asleep. He wanted Stella all to himself that night, just like he had once or twice a week since Chicago.

At first Devon hoped that by getting to know her better, she’d become more of a friend than a romantic interest. But now he was worse off than before. Devon knew he needed to stop their frequent contact, but Stella was too addictive. There was no way he could go without their private conversations, at least not cold turkey. He needed to wean himself off her, taking away one phone call a month. When he could handle that, he’d up it to two.

And he would start tomorrow.

Ryan’s breathing slowed, and Devon crept to the front porch steps. Most of the stars were hidden by the trees, but the cool, night air felt good. Refreshing. Combined with the sweet scent of pine, Devon already felt at home in his new house. Even more so when he heard Stella’s voice.

“How does Ryan like the new house?” A few weeks ago, she’d dispensed with the greetings, which Devon liked. Sometimes it felt as though they’d never really ended the conversation from the day before.

“He loves it. In fact, he thinks we should camp on the floor of the family room every night.”

“You should.”

“No we shouldn’t.”

“Good luck convincing him of that tomorrow.”

“No kidding. I’m probably going to have to bribe him with a real camping trip.”

“Are you talking about a tent in the woods, with a campfire and a starry sky?”

“Something like that.”

“Have you ever been camping?” she asked.

“Yeah. My dad and I used to go all the time. Fishing too.”

“I thought you weren’t a fish person.”

“I’m not a pet fish person. But catch and release—that I can handle.”

Stella laughed. “Your parents were okay with Ryan moving? I know they’re pretty attached to him.”

“It helps that we’re only fifteen minutes away, so they’ll still see him a lot. Then there’s always Sunday dinner.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

It would be better if you were here.
“It is.”

Stella paused and then cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask you something. My friend, Tess, is getting married and she’s asked me to be her bridesmaid. The wedding will be here in Australia, but her fiancé is from California so they’re planning a big event there as well. She wants me to come along.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Devon straightened and pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Did you just say you’re coming to America?”

“I haven’t decided for sure yet, but it’s a free ticket, and I could use a short holiday,” Stella said. “Jeremy’s family lives in a small city just north of Sacramento, and I figured if I’m that close, I’d really like to see Ryan . . . and you. If you’re okay with it, that is.”

Am I okay with it?
Was she serious? “Of course I am. Ryan will be thrilled.”

“I can’t take too much time off work. The dinner is on a Thursday, so I’ll rent a car and drive to Portland on Friday and stay for a few days. Tess can schedule my flight to leave from the Portland airport on Sunday night. Would that work?”

One lousy weekend? That’s it? “Sure. I wish you could stay longer though.”

“Me too, but I need to get back.”

Three days. Only three measly days. Maybe Ryan could charm her into staying longer. “Well, we’ll take what we can get. When are you coming?”

“Four weeks.”

Stella shoved one last pair of shoes into her suitcase before kneeling down to zip it closed. Had she forgotten anything? In only four hours she’d board the plane. After that, there’d be no going back.

Five more days and Stella would get to see Ryan again. Get to hug, kiss, snuggle, and watch him kick a ball. She’d be there just in time for his last soccer game of the season. She couldn’t wait.

But she’d also see Devon. Jittery knots rummaged around in her stomach, which was absurd. After all, a future with him was impossible, something Stella could only daydream about. But dream she did. Devon’s smile, his laughter, his genuine kindness, his humor—him. He was wonderful.

And completely unavailable—at least for her.

So why go to America? Yes, Tess had asked her to come, but her friend didn’t need her there. The reception in California would be a small one, with no official place for a bridesmaid. So why torture herself? Why go when her time with Ryan and Devon would be so short and end with yet another good-bye?

Because Stella missed them. Badly. The temptation had been too great to resist. She would spend one last weekend with them and then do whatever it took to move on with her life. It would be like savoring that one last bite of chocolate cake. Delicious and wonderful, and definitely worth the calories, but when it was gone, it was gone.

⇐ ⇑ ⇒

The few days in California went by fast. Stella was on her own most of the time, but the day before the dinner, she and Tess snuck off for some shopping and a little girl time. After that, Tess was busy, and then there were too many other people who wanted to wish the bride and groom well.

By the time Friday morning rolled around, Stella was eager to get on her way.

“Thanks for coming.” Tess hugged her good-bye. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Enjoy the Caribbean. I’ll expect you to have a beautiful tan when you come back.”

“I’d better.” Tess grinned. “And you be sure to kiss that American before you leave.”

Stella laughed. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Ten hours later, Stella pulled to a stop in Devon’s driveway. She was here. Finally. Trees framed the cozy red brick house, and the freshly cut grass was a soft blanket of green. All Stella needed to do was get out of her car and walk to the door. Her fingers played in her lap, refusing to tug on the handle.
You can do it, Stella. You’ve come too far to be scared off now.

The front door opened and there they were. Devon, with his perfect smile, and Ryan, grinning and holding tightly to a dozen multi-colored balloons.

Stella shoved open her door and rushed forward to engulf Ryan in a hug. It felt so good to hold him again. To see those precious brown eyes, adorable dimple, and glowing smile. How could she stand to leave in three days? Not even three. It was now closer to two.

Ryan wriggled from her grasp and thrust the balloons into her hand. “These are for you. Dad let me pick them out all by myself.”

Dad.
The word resonated in Stella’s heart. How right. How fitting. “Ta, love.” She kissed Ryan’s cheek before he had a chance to escape. “I’ve missed you so much, and I love the balloons. They’re perfect.”

“I told Ryan we could get you flowers or balloons. He chose those,” Devon said.

“Can I play with them?” Ryan asked. “I want to show them to Aussie.”

“Of course.” Stella smiled as she passed the balloons back to Ryan. He quickly scampered back inside, as though Stella’s presence was no big deal.

“I guess we need to work on his gift-giving etiquette,” Devon said. “And his welcoming etiquette.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do with a dozen balloons anyway, but I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Awkward silence.

Stella rocked back and forth on her heels.
Ryan, how could you leave me? Don’t you know desertion’s a crime?

Stella was about to go hunt him down when Devon took a few steps forward and held out his arms. “Do I get a hug too?”

Stella’s laugh sounded forced, even borderline frenzied. Clamping her mouth closed, she stepped into his embrace and rested her head against his chest. Thump, bump. Thump, bump. Thump, bump. The rhythm of his heartbeat had an almost hypnotic effect. Combined with his fresh scent, hard chest, and strong arms, Stella had never felt so welcomed. Like she was home.

“I’m glad you came,” Devon said.

“Me too.” Stella forced herself to pull back. “So when did Ryan start calling you Dad?”

He smiled. “A few weeks ago. I didn’t ask him to or anything, he just said it one day. It was strange at first, but I really like it.”

“It fits.”

“Thanks.” Devon reached for her hand. “Come on in. I’ll give you the official tour. The place still needs some work, but Ryan and I have made a little progress.”

He continued to hold her hand as he led her though the house. Although Stella could tell Devon had been working hard on the renovations, sheetrock mud, tape, and texture decorated the walls, the cabinets were without doors, and the floors felt uneven beneath her feet. “This house is a bit dodgy, isn’t it?” she teased.

“Oh come on. Where’s your vision and imagination?”

Stella laughed. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure it will look beautiful when you’re finished.”

Devon led her back to the family room, where a ghastly, white painted brick fireplace covered an entire wall. Or at least the brick did. The opening for the actual fireplace looked more like a mouse hole. How had Stella missed that the first time through? “Uh, did Ryan paint that?”

“Would it make you like it any better if he did?”

“Maybe.” Even the mantle was horrid. Like someone had nailed a two-by-six to the brick and threw a bucket of white paint at it. Stella shook her head. “Sorry, I still don’t like it. Probably because I know Ryan can paint better than that.”

“Actually, the fireplace came with the house—but I got a great deal.”

“I hope so.” Stella’s smile softened the words. “And I’m sure in a few months it will be lovely.” It couldn’t get much worse.

“You’ll have to come back to see if you approve . . . that is, if you want to.” His slight hesitation was adorable.

Stella met his eyes. Of course she wanted to come back. In fact, now that she was here, she didn’t ever want to leave. If only she didn’t have a job and responsibilities back in Australia. If only her life wasn’t there. A life Stella needed to get on with.

“You’re hesitating,” Devon said. “That’s not usually a good sign.”

“I have to be honest with you. I want to be a part of Ryan’s life more than anything, but it was really difficult for me when you left and took him with you. Gradually things got easier, and as wonderful as it is to be here with him now . . . with you . . . I know it’s going to be hard to say good-bye again. I just don’t know how many more good-byes I have in me, you know?”

Devon’s hand found hers again, and he tugged her toward the back door. “Let’s not talk about good-byes just yet. We still have a couple of days.”

Such a guy thing to say. Heaven forbid they actually have a real conversation about it.

“Stop it, Aussie!” Ryan screamed as he slammed the patio door shut behind him, trapping three of the balloons outside and popping one. A large dog barked and scratched at the glass, apparently not happy about being left on the deck.

Devon smiled. “Stella, meet Aussie, our golden retriever. The newest addition to our family and Ryan’s best friend.”

Aussie leaped toward the remaining balloons. “Leave my balloons alone!” Ryan shouted through the glass.

“They’re Stella’s balloons,” Devon reminded him. “And that’s no way to talk to your best friend.”

Stella opened the door a crack and stroked the dog’s head while coercing the stray balloons inside. “Nice to meet you, Aussie. I’m Stella.” The dog licked her hand before she closed the door, leaving him outside.

Ryan frowned at the ground. “He made my red balloon pop. It was my favorite one.”

Stella crouched down and lifted his chin with her finger. “Ryan, if you’re through playing with the balloons, maybe we can let them go outside in the front yard and watch them fly up to heaven. Does that sound fun?”

Brown eyes brightened. “My mum’s in heaven!”

“We can send them to her. I bet she’d love them,” Stella said.

“Can we do it now?”

“Sure.”

They walked out to the front yard. “Do you want to keep them tied together, like a bouquet, or would you rather separate them and send one at a time?” Stella asked.

“Together. I don’t want any to get lost.”

“Good point.”

Devon rested his arm around Stella’s shoulders, and a fleet of goose bumps coursed up and down her arms. She wanted to lean into him and soak up the affection, let it fill her up and give her something to hold onto.

“Whenever you’re ready, Ryan,” Devon said.

Arm raised high, Ryan’s little fist opened, releasing the balloons. They bounced around in the breeze as they sailed high in the clear blue sky, picking up speed as they went. Before long, they disappeared behind the towering pines.

“Do you think my mum will get them?” Ryan asked.

“I’m sure she will,” said Devon.

“Can we send her some more tomorrow?”

Devon shook his head. “Probably not tomorrow, but maybe we could send some to her on her birthday. Would you like that?”

“When’s her birthday?” Ryan asked.

“December 12th,” Stella answered. Was Lindsay watching her sweet boy right now? Did she see the balloons?

“December’s not for a long time,” Devon said to Ryan, “so you can’t ask about it every day, okay? I promise I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go get your glasses so you can tell Stella the poem you learned in preschool yesterday.”

Ryan dashed off toward the house and returned moments later, out of breath. Brown eyes sparkled through a pair of bright orange glasses made from pipe cleaners.

“I love them,” Stella said. “You look very smart.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Devon.

Ryan grinned. “I cannot find my shirt, I cannot find my shorts; I cannot find my socks and shoes, I cannot find my fork. I cannot find my toothbrush, and I don’t know where the trash is. I’m going to have a rotten day until I find my glasses!”

Stella laughed and hugged him. There couldn’t possibly be a more adorable child. “You are brilliant, Ryan. I can’t believe you learned that entire poem in one day.”

“He’s a genius. Give me five.” Devon held out his hand and Ryan slapped it. “And guess what else? Tomorrow Stella gets to come to your soccer game.”

Ryan’s eyes glowed. “You get to see me play soccer!”

“I can’t wait,” she said. “Let’s go find a ball so you can show me all your moves.”

They spent the afternoon playing soccer, throwing balls, and enjoying the beautiful fall weather. By the time dinnertime came around, they were all starving. Devon’s parents had invited them over, so Stella climbed back into the rental car and followed them to the Pierce’s house, where she would be sleeping. Devon didn’t have a habitable guest room, so he’d arranged for Stella to stay with his parents—which was fine with her. Stella was thrilled to finally meet Lydia and Jack.

“I love spaghetti!” Ryan said when he saw what his grandma had made for dinner.

Lydia hugged Ryan. “I know, pumpkin. Why do you think I made it?”

“Again,” Jack mumbled. “Ryan, aren’t you getting sick of spaghetti?”

“No. It’s my favorite.”

Devon chuckled. “Dad, maybe if we didn’t come around so much, you wouldn’t be forced to eat it again.”

Ruffling Ryan’s hair, Jack said, “I love Ryan, so I put up with it. And who doesn’t love homemade breadsticks?”

“I think everything smells wonderful,” Stella said.

“You must be hungry,” Jack said. “Everything smells good when you’re starving.”

“That’s it.” Lydia playfully swung a wooden spoon in her husband’s face. “Now you have to eat two helpings if you want any dessert.”

Jack took the spoon from his wife. “Let me guess. We’re having homemade ice cream.”

“It’s Ryan’s favorite.”

“Of course it’s his favorite. You rarely make him anything else.”

“I do on Sundays.”

“Only because the other kids come and you make their favorite foods. What about my favorite foods?”

Lydia shrugged. “You’re a big boy. You can make it yourself.”

Jack rolled his eyes and Stella laughed. “No worries, Mr. Pierce. I have some contraband in my suitcase. Ten packages of TimTams.”

Jack looked interested. “No idea what those are, but if they taste different than homemade ice cream, you are heaven sent.”

“I love TimTams!” Ryan said.

“TimTams?” Lydia said. “I’ve never heard of those, so they must be Australian. I wonder if I can get them anywhere here.”

“They’re at SuperTarget,” Devon said. “But they’re seasonal, so you can only get them between now and next spring.”

“Really?” Stella said. “Why did I just bring ten packages through customs if you can get them here?”

Lydia frowned at her son. “And why have you never told me Ryan had another favorite treat?”

“I can’t give you all my secrets, Mom. What am I going to use to bribe him with now?”

“Ryan doesn’t need to be bribed,” Jack said. “He’s perfect.”

“Yes, he is,” Lydia added.

Stella smiled at the exchange. If it wasn’t for the American accent, Ryan would look and sound like a Pierce. In fact, he was a Pierce, despite his last name. Ryan now had exactly what Lindsay had wanted him to have.

A real family.