Chapter 52

CHAPTER 52

SIMON

I t had been two weeks since what Rylee and I not so affectionately dubbed "Eggageddon." Today, she was riding shotgun in my latest pride and joy, a Hennessey Venom F5. The car was unreal, easily the most impressive in my collection. I had four cars, each serving a different purpose, but this one was special. It made me feel like a kid again, giddy with excitement every time I got behind the wheel. I was even working with a contractor to expand the garage at my Dallas house to accommodate my growing fleet.

Some people said I had too much money. I did. Buying cars was something I had recently gotten into. It made me happy. The rarer, the better. I had a guy that was keeping an eye out for anything that might tickle my fancy. I was only interested in cars that I could actually drive. I didn't want cars that just looked good in the garage.

"I'm thinking of adding a few more cars to my collection," I told Rylee. "The garage expansion should be done by the end of summer."

Rylee's grin was infectious. She was downright giddy in the passenger seat, marveling at the luxurious interior, the deep rumble of the engine, and the sheer it factor of the car. "This is incredible, Simon. Promise you'll take me for another drive in the summer?"

I laughed. "Promise. Anytime you want."

"I never even dreamed about being in a car like this. It's so much cooler than I expected." She peppered me with questions about the car, her curiosity and excitement palpable.

"Wait till you see what I have lined up next," I teased, maneuvering the Hennessey through the Dallas streets with childlike glee.

"Oh?" Rylee perked up, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's next on your expensive shopping list, Mr. Money Bags?"

I chuckled at her nickname for me, a playful knock at my wealth which never failed to amuse us both. "Ever heard of a Bugatti Veyron Super Sport? They only made 30 of them," I said, my smile widening at her gasp.

"No way, Simon! You're not serious!" She gawked, her eyes wide with surprise. "What are you going to do with four cars?"

"Drive them." I grinned.

"This car needs to be on a highway." She smiled. "Really need to open her up."

She rolled down the window and laughed into the wind, her hair whipping around her face. She looked like she was living her best life. I couldn't help but laugh with her. Watching her enjoy the moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I loved her.

Holy shit.

We turned off the main road onto my mother's driveway. As I slowed the car in front of the house, Rylee turned to me, smoothing out her hair. "Do I look okay?" she asked nervously.

I leaned over and gave her a kiss. "You look beautiful. Don't stress. It's not like you haven't met them before. They're going to love you."

"I just want them to continue liking me," she confessed. "I still don't think I made the best impression at Connor's birthday party. They were convinced we ruined the party. I might have been a little out of hand."

I shook my head. "You were yourself, and that's a wonderful impression. Besides, Carmen was fine with it. She was upset, but Connor had a blast. You were the life of the party."

"Yeah, and the destroyer of decorations." She laughed. "And I'm guessing there were some grass stains on the kids' clothing that did not come out."

"I think Carmen has forgiven you for the water-gun fight." I grinned.

"Still, I'm nervous," she confessed, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "This is different, Simon. This isn't a party. This is your life, not mine. I'm not refined and uppity. If there are more than two forks, I'm screwed. I put my elbows on the table and I?—"

I reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Relax. No one is going to judge. No one expects you to have graduated from Miss Manners. We're not that uptight—trust me. Just be you."

She took a deep breath. "I'll just apologize ahead of time if I embarrass you."

I laughed and opened the door to crawl out of the car. "You won't."

We held hands as we approached the front door. I knocked, and seconds later, my mother opened the door, a little more dolled up than usual. It was clear she was trying to put her best foot forward, which made me feel good. I wanted her to like Rylee. She was very important in my life and it meant a lot that all the women in my life got along.

"Hi, Mom," I said, giving her a hug.

"Simon, Rylee, come in," she said warmly, leading us to the lounge where Elton John played on the swanky stereo. Marsha was at the bar, pouring a glass of wine. She offered one to each of us. I accepted for both of us, giving Rylee a glass.

We sat down on one of the loveseats together with Mom sitting across from us. Rylee was looking around the room with expensive paintings on the wall and a Ming vase in the corner. I knew it was making her uncomfortable.

"You have a beautiful home," Rylee said to Mom. "I love all the artwork."

"Thank you, dear." Mom smiled, appreciating the compliment. "Simon's father was an avid collector."

"I'm afraid I don't know much about art," Rylee confessed, looking back to my mother.

"That's quite alright." She waved her off gently. "We collect what pleases us. It doesn't require an understanding or knowledge of art. I honestly don't think I could tell you who most of the artists are. I just enjoy looking at them."

Rylee nodded and picked up her glass, taking a small sip. Her fingers toyed with the stem of the wine glass as she glanced around the room again.

I reached out and put a hand on her knee, trying to comfort her. I wanted to reassure her it was okay.

One of the housekeepers carried in a tray filled with charcuterie with the promise the private chef working in the kitchen would be sending out the next tray of appetizers. It was a meal of finger foods, something my mom liked to do for our little dinner gatherings.

Rylee's eyes fell on one of the pictures of me. "I have to see," she said with a silly grin. She got up and moved to the sofa table that was covered with framed photos of the family. She picked one of them up. "Is this you?"

Mom immediately got up. Marsha and I shook our heads. "Here we go," I groaned.

Mom was about to bust out the baby pictures.

"It certainly is," Mom said. She took the picture from Rylee's hands, staring at it fondly. "That's Simon when he was five. We were on a family trip to Montana then. He was so fascinated by horses and insisted on wearing that cowboy hat all the time."

Rylee laughed, peering over my mom's shoulder to look at the photo. There I was in the picture, a mini cowboy with bright, awe-filled eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. She returned to her seat next to me with a soft chuckle. "You were adorable."

"I have some more pictures if you want," Mom offered eagerly.

"Yes, please." Rylee nodded.

"I'll grab the albums. Have a seat," Mom said.

I shook my head. "You're in for it now."

"Was he as bossy then as he is now?" Rylee teased.

"You were quite the little boss, Simon," my mother teased. "Always organizing the other kids."

Rylee smiled. "I can totally see that."

Marsha joined in. "Remember the time he tried to set up a lemonade stand and ended up running a whole lemonade empire?"

I groaned. "Let's not go there."

Rylee's laughter filled the room, and I couldn't help but smile. Seeing her connect with my family meant everything to me.

Mom returned shortly with a stack of photo albums, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Well, here we are," she announced, setting them on the coffee table.

Rylee's eyes widened at the sight of so many albums. "Wow, you guys document everything." Mom just laughed and nodded, pulling the first album open to reveal a picture of me as a baby. There I was, swaddled in a powder blue blanket with a shock of dark hair on my tiny head.

Rylee reached out to flip through the pages, her fingers skimming over each photo. Her laughter filled the room again as she found one of me, no more than four, trying to make sense of a fishing rod nearly twice my height. She pointed to it, looking up at me with a silly smile. "Is this your first attempt at fishing?"

"Sadly, yes." I sighed dramatically and she burst into another round of laughter.

"Look at his face," she said, pointing to the picture. "He looks so serious."

"That's because he was," Mom replied. "Simon always took everything very seriously. Even as a child."

Rylee turned the page and found a picture of me during my first day at school. I was standing in front of the school gate in the uniform that was required for the exclusive private school I attended.

"Wow, you look every bit the scholar," Rylee said, studying the photograph. There I was in a perfectly pressed uniform, my hair perfectly combed down, and a neat backpack hanging on my small shoulders.

"That was a proud day," Mom added, her voice soft with reminiscence. "Simon was so excited to start school. He would carry that little backpack everywhere around the house weeks before the schoolyear started."

Rylee continued to flip through the pages, observing each photograph with a smile on her face. There were pictures of me at various stages of my life, from awkwardly posing for my high school graduation photos to looking uncomfortably suave in my senior prom tux. Pictures of summer vacations, Christmas mornings, and family sporting events also filled the pages of the album.

"Is that a football uniform?" Rylee asked, indicating a photo of teenage me, looking slightly out of my depth in a bulky jersey and helmet.

"It is," I confirmed with a chuckle. "I played for one season in high school. Decided it really wasn't for me."

"And there he is at his college graduation," Mom narrated as Rylee turned the page to a photo of me standing proudly on stage, university cap in hand and gleaming with pride.

As Rylee's fingers skimmed over the glossy pages of countless captured memories, her eyes glowed with intrigue and amusement.

Mom loved to show off the pictures. I didn't know if Rylee was genuinely interested or if she was just humoring my mother. Either way, I was happy for it.

The housekeeper came in, carrying a tray of finger foods. As we ate, Rylee asked lots of questions about me and what I was like in my youth. I could see my mother and sister warming to her more with each passing minute.

When it was time to leave, Rylee excused herself to use the bathroom.

My mother hugged me tightly. "Rylee seems truly wonderful, Simon," she whispered in my ear. "Don't mess this one up. She's the one."

Her words struck a chord. I nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and determination. "I know, Mom. I know."

Rylee met us in the foyer. "Thank you so much, Sandra. I had a great time. Marsha, thanks for sharing all the stories."

"Anytime." Marsha laughed. "I have plenty more."

"Don't even," I groaned.

We walked out of the house, hand in hand.

"Your family is amazing," she said softly. "I had a great time."

"I'm glad," I replied, kissing the top of her head. "They think you're amazing too."

"Your mom and sister are wonderful," Rylee said once we started down the driveway. "I'm really glad they like me."

"They more than like you," I assured her.