Daniella Ericsson considered her address book for a moment, then muttered to herself as she searched the living room for her reading glasses. Once she found the half-frames that she hated as much as cellulite, she peered at the book again and dialed the unfamiliar number.

"Jordan?" she said as the familiar voice answered. "It’s Mom, honey. I wanted to discuss this Olympic situation with you."

"Ahh … this isn’t Jordan," the woman said. "If you hold on, I can get her for you, though."

"Oh, well, that’s fine. Please do."

She waited for the few minutes it took for the woman to locate Jordan and call her to the phone, finding her temper growing shorter as she waited. "Hello," the slightly more familiar voice said.

"Jordan, I’m calling from Los Angeles. When you know it’s me, I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry to the phone."

"I was going to the bathroom, Mom," she sighed, not usually the type to reveal personal matters like this, but already exasperated — even though they had only been speaking for moments. "It’s awfully cold here, and it takes me a minute to get bundled up again."

"Right," she said, not hearing the reply. "I’m calling about this ticket offer, Jordan."

"Ticket offer?"

"Yes," she said, impatiently. "The offer from the Olympic Committee to purchase tickets to the Opening Ceremonies for the parents of all of the athletes."

"Oh," she said softly, having hoped that the Committee would leave it to the athlete to inform her parents of the offer. "Yes, I’m familiar with it."

"Well, what does this include? It only mentions the tickets. Surely they don’t expect us to pay for our own plane tickets and hotels!"

She cleared her throat, knowing she’d be getting a lecture momentarily. "That’s exactly what they expect, Mom. They only offer the tickets to the Opening Ceremonies because they’re so hard to get. To do just that is gonna cost them over three million dollars."

"Well, in that case, I don’t see how we can come. That would cost an exorbitant amount, Jordan."

"I realize that, Mom," she said, trying to keep at least a note of regret in her voice. "In a way, it’s a shame the games are so far away, even though it will be fascinating to see Australia."

"I suppose I’ll have to watch it on television," Daniella said. "Gunnar will be so disappointed."

"Well, I’ll take plenty of pictures and show him the next time we all get together," Jordan said, rolling her eyes as she played along with the family fable. "It won’t be the same without you two there."

"Your father isn’t going, is he?"

The question hung out there in space. Jordan knew that the chances were good that her mother would never find out the truth, but she also knew that her life would be hell if she was caught in a lie. "Uhm … he’s still thinking about it." This was a bold-faced lie. Jorgen Ericsson had promised his daughter that he would attend the competition as soon as she told him she had made the team. As a matter of fact, she already had his flight and hotel information. Regrettably, Candy was going too, but she would at least keep Jorgen entertained.

"Jordan," her mother said, in a tone that indicated her limited patience was at its terminus. "Is he going, or not?"

"I think so," she said, hoping that her mother would not rise to the bait.

Alas, Daniella immediately said, "Well, we might have to investigate this a little more." Jordan felt her heart sink, knowing that no good could come of this development. Her parents had not been in the same room since her high school graduation, and she still had occasional nightmares about that little get-together. "This will break my budget for the whole summer, but I hate to think of you going all that way and not having your family there for you."

Uh-huh. And if you didn’t think Dad would be there, it would be fine with you if I were all alone. A small smile crossed her face as she considered one guest whose presence she was most happily looking forward to. They can do whatever they want. They can fight to the death, for all I care. I’ll have Mia with me, and nothing else matters.

As her mother droned on, Jordan spent a moment letting herself savor the thought of looking up into the stands to see Mia’s sweet face. As the reassuring images flitted through her brain, she was struck by the thought of how it would be when her family met her lover. If she’ll agree to meet them as my lover, she considered. She might just want to act like she’s a friend from school. A wave of unfathomable sadness washed over her as her mother’s words continued on. For some reason it was suddenly desperately vital that Mia not only acknowledge, but be proud of their relationship — if not in all situations, then at least when she met Jordan’s family.

"Jordan … Jordan! Have you heard a word I said?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure I did," she said, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Well, will you do it, or not?"

"Uhm … sure. I’ll do it," she muttered, not caring what she was agreeing to.

"Fine. I’ll let you know how much the tickets cost."

"Tickets?" she asked, finally coming to her senses.

"Yes. I’ll have Gunnar pay for the hotel, and you can pay for the airfare for the three of us. That seems fair, doesn’t it? Now, since we have so far to go, I think we’ll need either first-class or business-class, don’t you?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," she mumbled, unable to say no at that point.

"You certainly don’t sound very happy about this, Jordan. Is something bothering you?"

"No. Nothing’s bothering me. I’m only wondering how I’m going to pay for the tickets since I don’t have many opportunities to work here in Colorado."

"I saw that ad for Ralph Lauren," her mother said. "How many days was that shoot?"

"Two," the younger woman said.

"And what’s your quote now?"

"$2,000."

"So, you made at least $32,000 for that one ad alone. I know the business, honey. Don’t try to pull one over on me."

"I know how much I’ve made, Mom. But I’ve got some expenses coming up that are gonna make it tight."

"Oh, Jordan, you’ve been so sheltered. You don’t know what it’s like to have to maintain a house this size on the pittance that your father …"

Once again Jordan went into her little private world, letting her mother’s voice provide the white noise to her musings.

Jamie was dressed and ready to go to their second engagement by seven o’clock, with Ryan having fallen behind since Jamie had ordered the brunette out of the bathroom for nearly a half hour. When the smaller woman emerged, Ryan forgave her dawdling, spending several moments gazing at her partner appreciatively. "I was going to compliment you on your dress, but I don’t even know what to call that color — it’s … what … jade?"

"Somewhere around there," Jamie said. "Jade, emerald, malachite."

"It makes your eyes look greener than I’ve ever seen them," Ryan sighed as she took in the twin pools of verdant green that blinked up at her. "Once again, it feels marvelous," she added as her hands roamed all over the slightly slick-feeling silk. "Of course, that sensation might not come from the wrapper so much as the filling."

"I don’t think I’ve ever been called filling," Jamie said. "Yet another new one."

"I’ve got a million of ‘em," Ryan said, dashing into the bath so she’d be on time.

Minutes later, Ryan slipped her long legs into the new slacks that Jamie had purchased for her in Pebble Beach, then tried to decide on what blouse to wear. "I know I should wear my suit, but I’ll be too hot if I have to keep the jacket on," Ryan said, staring at the closet, waiting for it to divulge its secrets.

Jamie came up behind her and gave her bare waist a hug. "I have a couple of suggestions," she said.

Ryan cocked her head and patted her on the hip. "Suggest away."

Going into her side of the closet, Jamie extracted a pair of blouses; one, white with French cuffs, the other a small blue and white check. "I uhm … had a couple of blouses made for you, babe. You can’t wear nice slacks with your shirt sleeves rolled up."

Ryan smiled gently at her partner and said, "One little decision leads to many more, eh? First it was the suit, then it was shoes, then another pair of slacks. Now it’s blouses. Oh, I forgot — we’re getting a new house to keep all of my clothes in."

"Funny," Jamie said, tweaking her nose. "Which blouse do you want for tonight?"

"I think I’ll take the white one," Ryan said. "Do you have any cufflinks?"

"But of course," Jamie chided her gently. She fastened the links after Ryan had put the blouse on, then stood back and watched her lover contort her body wildly.

"I’ve never had a blouse I could do this in," she mused as she extended her elbows and lifted her arms high into the air.

"Uhm … why have you wanted to?" Jamie asked, shaking her head at her lover’s antics.

"Good point," Ryan conceded. "But if this restaurant needs any wood chopped tonight, I’m their woman!" She mimicked the action she would have to make, and nodded, very satisfied that her new blouse allowed her complete freedom of movement.

"I like this collar on you," the blonde said, stepping back to admire the cut. "It’s very feminine, but also tailored. Your necklace will look perfect with it." Jamie retrieved her partner’s jewelry and fastened the necklace, settling it under the collar. Slipping the diamond earrings into her lobes, she stood quietly, letting her eyes roll up and down her lover’s body. "We could always order a pizza."

Ryan smiled at her wanton leer and shook her head. "No way. I’m not going to have our grandchildren hear the story of how Grandmom got stuck with a pizza on Valentine’s Day. I know you’re the type to regale several generations of O’Flaherty/Evans offspring with that story." Her hands settled onto Jamie’s hips and she added, "Besides, you look too wonderful not to share you with the world a little bit. I can’t be that selfish."

Jamie smiled up at her and brushed her cheek with her lips, taking care not to leave any trace of her lipstick. "Thank you," she said, smiling demurely. "We’re about ready here. One more little touch. Now, don’t have a stroke, but I did have a winter coat made for you." She gulped visibly and reached into her closet, pulling out a beautifully made, lightweight coat.

Raising an eyebrow, Ryan fingered the charcoal gray fabric, finding it deliciously soft and slightly furry. "A winter coat? I’ve never had a winter coat that didn’t have a big zipper and a lift ticket or two hanging from it."

"A ski jacket doesn’t look very good over your nice clothes, honey," Jamie explained logically. As Ryan continued to feel the fabric, the blonde prayed, Please don’t ask what it’s made of … please don’t ask.

"Will this never end?" Ryan sighed dramatically.

Jamie turned her around and looked into her eyes, relieved to see nothing but gentle teasing in the cool, blue orbs. "You’re not mad, are you?"

Ryan hugged her tight and said, "No. I’m not mad at all. I find that I understand your motivations more now that I’m serving this same function for Jennie. She thought I was crazy when I gave her seventy-five dollars for a pair of shoes, but I knew she’d look like a dork if she had some ten-dollar cardboard-soled shoes on at Sacred Heart. You’re doing the same thing — trying to make me look like I fit in with my peers … in this case, you and your mom."

"Baby, you class up any room you enter," Jamie said sincerely. "I just like to dress you up a little bit once in a while."

"I’m pretty happy about the coat," Ryan said. "I used to have to run from my car to where I was going during the winter — and that was if I could borrow a car. I’ve been on more than one date where I had to stow my ski jacket somewhere before I went into a nice restaurant."

"Well, I think you’re set now," Jamie said, feeling like she had dodged a bullet. If she knew that coat was cashmere she’d have a fit!

* * * * * * * * * * *

As the young couple walked down the street to retrieve the car, Martin and Maeve spotted them in the distance. The older couple was on their way to Martin’s brother Francis’ house for dinner, and they were too far away to catch the girls’ attention without shouting — which was not Martin’s style. He squeezed his wife’s hand and commented, "Have you ever seen a greater transformation in a shorter time period than the one our Siobhán has undergone?"

"Ahh, she hasn’t changed so much, Marty. She’s the same sweet little sprite she’s always been."

"I hardly recognize her, sweetheart. Six months ago she was just another hooligan in the pack! I honestly had to sometimes remind myself that she was a girl. Now … look at her."

Maeve did as he asked, trying to think of how her niece had looked and behaved before she met Jamie. The girl was wearing a beautiful, double-breasted coat that enhanced her already impressive height, and a pair of well-tailored slacks draped gracefully across her shoes when she walked. "Where did she get that beautiful coat?" Maeve asked. "I’ve never seen her in anything but a ski jacket."

"I don’t know where she got it, but it looks like it was made for her. I assume Jamie had something to do with it," he said, chuckling softly.

Even though Ryan’s clothing was crisply tailored and bore very simple lines, the style highlighted every facet of her lushly feminine body. "She’s simply stunning," she sighed. "She’s not a girl any longer, Marty."

"No, she’s truly not," he said. "Jamie’s brought out the woman that’s been hiding inside. She’s so much more mature now." He smiled warmly, watching the way she held Jamie’s hand in her own. "She’s more loving, too. It took long enough, but I think she finally understands that it’s no accomplishment to merely win a woman’s body. Claiming her heart is all that matters."

Maeve nodded, feeling tears sting her eyes. "She’s an adult now. Our little Siobhán isn’t a child any longer."

Ryan stopped when she reached the passenger door of the stately, black BMW sedan and held the door open for Jamie. The smaller woman got in and smiled up at her, then Ryan closed the door and dashed around to the driver’s side. She got in and carefully guided the car up the street, catching sight of her father and aunt. Suddenly, they heard her voice over the external speaker, Irish accent firmly in place. "Off to the rub-a-dub-dub again, are ya? Sláinte!"

The couple looked at each other, both rolling their eyes as the car sped by. "Maybe she’s got a bit of childhood left in her after all," Maeve said.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"What in the heck is a rub-a-dub-dub?" Jamie asked, giggling along with Ryan, even though she didn’t know why she was laughing.

"Oh, that’s one of the many, many terms for going to a pub," she said.

"Rub-a-dub-dub …" Jamie looked at her and asked, "Is that a reference to the nursery rhyme? I don’t get it."

"Nope. It’s a form of rhyming slang. Dub rhymes with pub." She gave her partner a thoughtful look and said, "I guess we don’t do that here, do we?"

"What?"

"Come up with little rhymes to refer to certain words. The Irish do it constantly."

"Uhm … why?" Jamie asked.

"Dunno. It’s just a thing. Da doesn’t do it much, but my Uncle Patrick does. Haven’t you ever heard him?"

"I don’t think so," Jamie said. "Give me an example."

"Oh … he says ‘dog and bone’ instead of phone. He sometimes will call one of his kids a ‘current bun’…"

Jamie started laughing, and in seconds she was slumped down in her seat, holding onto her stomach. "Oh, my God!" she gasped out. "I’ve heard him say things like that, but I never knew he was making a rhyme. I thought he was a little goofy!"

Ryan was chuckling along right with her, and she said, "Well, he is a little goofy. But he also rhymes a lot."

"I heard him call one of the boys a current bun and I thought it was a pet name, like my dad calls me cupcake."

"No, no," Ryan said. "Current bun rhymes with son. Like my dad might refer to me as a bottle of water. It rhymes with daughter. Sometimes Uncle Patrick calls me his long term lease, because lease rhymes with niece."

"Odd," Jamie said, shaking her head. "That’s just plain odd."

"So you don’t want me to refer to you as my struggle and strife?" she asked ingenuously.

"I’m guessing that means wife," Jamie said, her eyes narrowed. "I wouldn’t recommend it if you want to get weekly paid."

"Weekly paid … weekly paid … what rhymes with paid …?" Ryan’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. "I’m very fond of getting paid, sweetheart," she said. "Struggle and strife is hereby stricken from my lexicon."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sara Andrews stood in front of the apartment building for a moment, then rang the bell, and waited for Ally to buzz her up. As usual, she was nervous, but tonight she was more nervous than usual — the thought of celebrating Valentine’s Day with her friend making her palms sweat.

When she got to the door, it was standing wide-open, and she heard Ally call out, "Come on in. I’ve got my hands full."

Sara peeked into the room, and caught sight of the larger woman trying to organize what looked like a fairly complex dinner. "Hi," the attorney said, sticking her head into the room to plant a kiss on Ally’s cheek.

"Hi, how does Chinese food sound?"

"Great." Sara noted the plethora of white cardboard take-out containers that littered the counter, and smiled at her friend.

Finishing her task of placing all of the dishes on plates, Ally finally looked up, and gave the chestnut-haired woman a warm, appreciative smile. "If I had any idea that lawyers looked like you do, I would have been in law school faster than you can count your briefs."

Sara revealed the surprise that she’d been hiding behind her back. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Ally," she said, presenting her friend with seventeen long-stemmed roses; four pink, four white, four coral, four yellow, and one red; all beautifully arranged in a tall, glass vase.

The tall woman’s face burst into one of the biggest, brightest smiles that Sara had ever seen. "You brought me roses! No one’s ever given me flowers before," she said, obviously delighted. Without even taking the flowers from Sara’s hand, Ally slid her arms around the smaller woman’s trim waist and kissed her with such enthusiasm that Sara was breathing hard in moments.

"Glad you like ‘em," she said, pulling back in a daze.

"They’re fantastic! Truly gorgeous," Ally said, shaking her head in wonder. "I know there must be some significance to the colors and the number, but I can’t guess what it might be."

"Well, I wasn’t sure what color would most appeal to you," Sara said. "I didn’t want to make a mistake, you know. After all, this is the first time I’ve given you flowers. So, I decided to hit all of the major colors."

Ally looked thoughtful, and said, "Hmm … I’m not sure which one I’d pick. I think I like the variety, to be honest."

Smiling brightly, Sara said, "Well, then, I guess I made the right choice."

"Now, how about the number? I don’t know a lot about flowers, but I know that 17 isn’t the most common choice."

"No, no, it’s not," Sara said. "I uhm … chose 17 because I was 17 when I finally realized I was a lesbian." Ally cocked her head, waiting for Sara to continue. "Even though I’ve known I was gay since I was 17, you’re the first woman that I’ve ever given flowers to … the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about." She gazed up into Ally’s eyes, losing herself in the gray depths. "That’s why there’s one red rose. That’s the color you give to your sweetheart," she said, smiling shyly. "Will you be my sweetheart, Ally?"

"Yes, I will," Ally said, her voice soft and syrupy smooth. "I’d very much like to be your sweetheart." Taking Sara in her arms again, they kissed for a long time, keeping the passion at a low burn. Pulling away, Ally asked, "Would my sweetheart like to eat dinner now? Someone went to a lot of trouble to prepare this. I’m not sure who," she said, grinning, "but someone did."

They sat at Ally’s small table, enjoying the food that the trainer had chosen. Over the weeks they’d been seeing each other, Sara had decided that she liked letting Ally guide her to a greater appreciation of vegetarian dishes, so the larger woman didn’t even consider buying anything with meat in it. "How does Chinese work for you without meat?" she asked.

"Good," Sara nodded. "I honestly don’t miss meat. In fact, I find myself going meatless at lunch most days. I feel a little sharper at work when I stick with fruit or vegetables."

"Do you think you might switch to full-time veggie?" Ally asked.

"Mmm … probably not. I like being able to eat whatever I’m served when I’m at a business lunch or dinner. And I don’t think I’ll ever give up my desire for turkey on Thanksgiving. I also have a weakness for hot dogs when I go to a Giants game." Smiling impishly, she said, "Some things are inviolate."

"I have an occasional hamburger myself," Ally said. "I try not to be too rule-bound in any part of my life. Now that I’ve quit competitive bodybuilding I’m going to try to eat to stay healthy and to feel my best. A little trip to carnivore-land won’t hurt me." She gave Sara a small smile and said, "Celebrating Valentine’s Day is also a sign of my life-style change. I’d always made it a rule to not go out with a woman on V-Day. I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Sara smiled at her and said, "This is a first for me, too."

"I find that so hard to believe," Ally said, shaking her head. "Uhm … I know you didn’t have any relationships with women, but did you ever have one with a man?"

"Ooo … personal question time," Sara said.

"You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to," Ally said. "It’s all in the past, Sara, it doesn’t matter."

"No," she said, "it does matter." She took a bite of her pan-fried noodles and said, "I went out with a guy for about 9 months when I was a sophomore in college. It just so happened that we broke up before he had to buy me a Christmas or Valentine’s present. Smart guy."

"Did you uhm … care for him? Were you very close?"

"I guess," Sara said. "His name was Kory, and he was a really great guy. He was a soccer player at Cal, too. We used to go to the men’s games, and they’d come to ours — that’s how we got to know each other."

"What made you date him? Since you uhm … knew that you were gay?"

"I’m not particularly proud of this, but even though I knew I was primarily attracted to women — I thought I might be able to find a guy who I could love. I thought if we had enough other things in common … maybe sex wouldn’t have to be the biggest thing between us."

Ally gave her a sad smile and said, "I think that could work if the guy didn’t think sex was a big deal. But I’ve never met a guy like that."

"No," Sara said, laughing softly. "Kory didn’t share my feelings on the unimportance of sex in a relationship." She shook her head. "I did so many things that I’m ashamed of now, Ally. Kory was a nice guy, but after dating for a few months, he finally got frustrated with me. I’d put him off so long that one night he asked if there was something wrong with me. He looked me right in the eye and asked if I was sure I was straight."

"What did you say?" Ally asked, looking at the woman with sympathy for the position she’d found herself in.

"I didn’t say anything," Sara said, looking down at the table. "I took him into my bedroom and had sex with him."

"Don’t feel guilty about that, babe. Lots of women aren’t sure until they experiment a little. It’s completely understandable."

"I was sure," Sara said softly. "I slept with someone only so he didn’t think I might be a lesbian. I was willing to let someone touch me … enter me — to avoid being labeled for who I was."

A look of intense pain flashed across Ally’s features and she shut her eyes briefly, then reached out unseeingly for her friend’s hand. Without a word, she brought the trembling hand to her lips and kissed it gently. "It’s all right," she whispered, her warm breath caressing the skin.

Sara blinked away a few tears, and said, "It’s so hard to think back to the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt, the ways I’ve hurt myself — all by trying to be someone else. I let him have sex with me for almost 6 months, just so he wouldn’t think I was gay." She sniffed delicately, wiping another tear from her eye. "I didn’t enjoy one moment of it, Ally. I let him use my body — I consented to it."

"You’re not doing that any longer," Ally said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Focus on that." Grasping Sara’s hand harder, Ally said, "You’re celebrating Valentine’s Day with a very, very obvious lesbian. You’re playing soccer in a lesbian soccer league. You’re out to your parents. Those are some very big accomplishments, Sara. Don’t forget them."

"I won’t," she said, producing a watery smile. Responding to the tug on her hand, she got up and slid onto Ally’s lap. The larger woman engulfed her in a hug and held her tight. "I feel so safe in your arms."

"We’ve both done things that we’re not proud of, baby. Everyone makes mistakes, and I’ve made hundreds of them. But none of that matters, now. All that matters is how we treat each other from now on." Fixing Sara with an intent gaze, she said, "I promise I’ll always try to treat you like my sweetheart."

"I know you will," Sara said, summoning a smile. She touched Ally’s soft lips with her finger, plucking at the particularly succulent lower lip. "You know, I’m not sure what the Valentine’s Day drill is. Is there some script we should be following?"

"Hmm … I’m not sure, either. I guess that means that we get to make up our own agenda." Ally took a few delicate nibbles of Sara’s ear. "Anything in particular you’d like to do?"

"I can think of a couple of things," Sara said, smiling sexily.

"Let’s go sit on the sofa and you can tell me what’s on your list."

Sara took her partner’s hand and led her into the living room. Ally snatched a small bag from the kitchen counter and carried it with her, handing it to Sara when they were seated. "I have a little present for you," she said. "I was very, very indecisive, I’ll have you know. I didn’t want to offend you — but I saw this on a model … and I could … see you in it. It made my teeth ache to think about you in it," she said, grinning wickedly.

"Offend me, huh?" Sara asked, smiling tentatively. "What could you possibly buy me that might offend me?"

"Well, it’s not that it’s offensive," Ally said, "but it might be a little premature."

"Ooh …" Sara gave her a knowing smile and put her hand in the bag, withdrawing something that was wrapped in red tissue paper. Opening the paper, she found a very sexy, black lace bra and an even sexier matching garter belt. "Oh, my," she said, her voice almost a purr, "it’s gonna be fun to wear this for an appreciative audience."

"It’s not presuming too much, is it?" Ally asked, sounding a little unsure of herself.

"Not in the least. We’re definitely going to get to the point where I’ll be seriously overdressed in this outfit," Sara said, smiling confidently.

"Oh, that’s gonna be nice," Ally said, her wistful smile speaking volumes.

"Until we get there, why don’t we spend the evening doing something I’ve always wanted to do on Valentine’s Day?"

"You name it," Ally said.

"I want to sit right here on this sofa and kiss you," Sara said. "I’ve always wanted to have a partner who I felt comfortable enough with to be able to kiss — for hours on end. I always felt like I’d have to have sex if I spent much time kissing a woman. I love that we can cuddle and kiss without having to go further."

"That’s a Valentine’s wish that I’m completely capable of fulfilling," Ally said, looking at Sara with another beaming smile as she pulled her close and got to work.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ryan rolled her eyes, but winked over the roof as she handed the keys to the valet parking attendant in front of the restaurant. If she had been alone, or if Jamie had not had on heels, she would have never consented to the twelve-dollar fee, but she was feeling magnanimous, considering it was Valentine’s Day.

As soon as they stepped inside the large space, they both unconsciously gasped in delight as they took in the huge chandeliers that ran the length of the main room. The massive lamps looked exactly like jellyfish, trailing long, glowing tentacles over the heads of the diners. Their eyes met in a shared memory as their thoughts returned to their last morning in Eleuthra, when they had been startled to have a sizeable jellyfish pass right before their eyes.

Unable to stop themselves from staring at the dramatic interior, Jamie’s eyes took in the huge coral-tinted columns, covered with something that looked like kelp; while Ryan’s gaze flitted to the dramatic, lengthy marble bar tucked away on the right side of the room.

When Jamie was able to tear her eyes away from the spectacle, the host, who was well used to diners being unable to focus on him, greeted her. "Good evening," he said. "Have you a reservation?"

"Yes," she said. "Evans for two."

He scanned his list, and she caught the twitch in his brow when he came to her name. "Mrs. Evans?" he asked cordially. "Will Senator Evans be joining you?"

"Actually, Mrs. Evans is my mother," Jamie explained, gracing him with her most confident smile. Gripping Ryan’s hand, she added, "She made the reservation for the two of us."

"Marvelous. Come right this way," he said, leading them up a graceful, curved staircase covered with black beads that resembled glistening, fat caviar eggs. Ryan’s mouth was nearly hanging open as she took in the strands of coral and barnacles that draped over the wall sconces leading up to the mezzanine.

Once they were situated in the most private corner of the space, he bade them have a pleasant meal and disappeared, leaving a stunned Ryan and an amused Jamie looking over the half-wall to survey the diners below.

"Happy?" Jamie finally asked her partner.

"I feel like I’m in the ocean again," the brunette managed to get out. "Look at the fish scales on the hood over the kitchen!"

"It is spectacular, isn’t it? Mom was right, as usual."

Coming back to reality, Ryan cocked her head and asked, "What was that about your mom making the reservation?"

"Oh, I wanted to make sure we got a special table, so I asked her to call. She knows the maitre d’."

Ryan rested her chin on her hand and gazed at her partner for a long minute. "You two are quite the pair. I pity the poor soul who gets in the way when you have a goal."

The waiter appeared as Jamie was going to respond, and they spent a few minutes discussing his recommendations for appetizers. Ryan listened with less than half of her attention, content to stare out over the assembled diners and people watch. No business diners were in attendance — only couples and a few foursomes. She noticed a table or two of gay men, and was watching one pair share an order of oysters when Jamie’s voice called her back. "Does anything on the appetizer list appeal to you?"

Ryan grinned at her and said, "Order for me? You do a much better job."

The waiter bit back a smirk and turned his attention back to Jamie, waiting patiently while she rattled off the items she’d like. After settling on two glasses of wine, he was off, and they were once again able to focus on each other.

"Do you like for me to order for you?" the blonde asked.

"I prefer it. You know what I like, and you know what goes well with other dishes. I’ve never been disappointed with what you’ve chosen, so why not?"

"Okay," she said. "Just know that I’ll gladly step aside if you want to take over."

Ryan gave her a rakish grin and said, "You can be the top when we’re out, as long as I take my rightful place when we’re making …" The waiter arrived with their wine, and Ryan finished her statement non-verbally, with a slight twitch of her eyebrow and a crooked grin. As he left, she took a sip of her wine, savoring the various notes of the complex bouquet on the back of her tongue. "Oh … this is nice," she purred. "You’ve started to show me what the big deal about wine is, and I’m very grateful for that."

"It’s the least I can do," Jamie said as she clinked her glass against Ryan’s and tasted her own selection. "You’ve awakened my senses to so many pleasures in the past few months that I have to return the favor." She held her glass up to the light and observed the color of the wine, and the way it clung to her glass when she swirled it. "Nice, indeed," she said. "Want to taste mine?"

"We don’t have the same thing?" Ryan asked.

"No. We’re both having Bourgogne blancs, but I thought the one I chose for you would go better with the appetizer you’re having."

Ryan cocked her head slightly and sighed, her eyes growing slightly hooded as she reached across the table and grasped Jamie’s hand. "Being with you is such a sensual experience," she murmured. "I feel so alive when we’re together — like every nerve is singing with pleasure."

Jamie bit her lower lip as her eyes fluttered closed. With a matching sigh, she gazed at her partner and said, "You have the most beautiful way of expressing yourself. And even though you might deny it, you’re the most romantic person I’ve ever met."

Ryan blushed becomingly, averting her eyes to once again look out over the restaurant. "The ceiling is simply stunning," she murmured. "How did they ever afford that kind of tile work?"

Glad that Ryan hadn’t looked at the menu, Jamie mused, You haven’t seen the prices, honey. They could afford to move the Sistine Chapel over here! "They didn’t have to," she said. "This was the old Elks Club, and that was the mosaic that used to be over the pool. They added a floor, and curved the walls to give the room the cave-like feel that it has. Didn’t they do beautiful work?"

"They sure did," she said, unable to take her eyes from the space. "I should bring Conor over here to see the workmanship."

"I like the sea urchin chandeliers," Jamie mused. "And they did such a nice job with those huge windows. They actually look like waves."

"You know, the food could suck, and this place would still be worth a visit," Ryan said.

As she spoke, a plate was placed in front of her, and she decided that even if the food was inedible, it was certainly gorgeous. On the frosted glass plate was centered a sea urchin shell, and Ryan delicately flicked at the ingredients. "What am I eating?" she asked as she picked up her fork and tried to decide how to attack her plate.

"Those are truffled mashed potatoes; with crab and a sprinkling of orange salmon caviar. I don’t think you’ve had truffles before, but I thought they would be fantastic with crab."

Ryan took a tiny bite, letting the earthy musk of the black truffle settle onto her palate. The sweet, fresh flavor of the crab hit her next, followed by the bright, salty burst of the caviar that practically exploded in her mouth. The tangy caviar soothed the richness of the other ingredients, leaving a clean, yet complex feeling in her mouth that she decided she could grow very fond of.

While all of this sensory information was flooding her brain, her body was unconsciously performing her usual paroxysms of delight. Jamie fully expected her to moan and slide to the floor, but the dark woman managed to remain upright in her chair and attract little attention.

"I haven’t even tasted mine, but with that face, I’ve got to have a bite of yours," the blonde said, reaching across the table to snitch a forkful.

Ryan watched the fork travel back across the table, then saw the precious morsel disappear between her partner’s coral-tinted lips. "I think that’s the biggest sacrifice I’ve ever made for you," she sighed as she watched Jamie’s face contort into a multi-layered expression of pure pleasure.

"Oh my God," the blonde husked as the flavors burst against her taste buds.

"That’s the same look you get on your face when I first touch you with my tongue," Ryan whispered in her sexiest voice.

"Check!" Jamie looked around for their waiter, but Ryan grasped her hand and pulled it to her lips for a kiss.

"Don’t rush, baby. Think of this as foreplay."

Jamie twitched in her seat and roughly shook her head, trying to force some blood back into her brain from whence it had settled near the apex of her thighs. "That’s a foregone conclusion," she murmured throatily. She sank back against the cut velvet cushions of her chair and tried to concentrate on her own dish.

A shimmering seafood pyramid glistened in the soft light, the quivering mass of seafood aspic holding floating chunks of shrimp, scallops and lobster. It was centered on an oversized plate, surrounded by a bright yellow saffron vinaigrette and a sprinkling of salmon caviar. As she took her first bite, she closed her eyes and nodded slowly, her mouth curling into the half-grin that Ryan so loved. "This is fine," she purred. "You need a little bite." Loading up her fork with a healthy portion, she reached across the table to offer it to her partner. Ryan scooted her chair closer and accepted the bit from Jamie’s fork, pursing her lips as the tines slid from them. Before she could blink, Ryan had shifted her chair even closer, then brought her place setting and wine with her — so that their chairs were touching.

"We need to share," she announced soberly. And so they did, feeding each other, sipping each glass of wine in turn as accompaniment to the dishes. By the time they were finished, they were practically sharing the same chair, but neither moved when the dishes were removed from the table. A few of the diners on the mezzanine shot surreptitious glances at them, but they were hidden from view from the crowd on the first floor, for which Ryan was very grateful.

They were lost in each other’s eyes, nearly drowning in the depths that reflected their love, their desire, and their utter happiness at being together, when a sharp flash of light nearly blinded Jamie. She blinked up in surprise, trying to focus through the spots that clouded her vision. In a split second, Ryan was on her feet, stalking the short distance to the table behind them to glare at a woman who was trying to quickly put her disposable camera away.

Folding her arms across her chest, and summoning every shred of intimidation she could muster, Ryan fixed the flustered woman with her laser-like gaze and demanded, "How much do you think you’ll get for that little prize?"

"Get?" the flustered woman asked, looking to her husband for protection.

"Well, taking our picture while we’re trying to have a nice, romantic dinner implies that you want to do something with it. I’m asking what your plans are."

Now Jamie was beside her, holding onto her arm in case Ryan tried to deck the woman. "I … I don’t have any plans," she stuttered. "I only wanted to show my friends that I saw you."

"I can’t imagine why that would be so, but if you’re telling the truth, I’d like to offer an alternative." The energy was rolling off of her, and the woman looked more than a little intimidated. When she didn’t speak, Ryan offered, "I’ll ask someone to take our picture with you. Then you can show your friends that you didn’t only spy on us and invade our privacy — you actually spoke with us. Surely, that’s worth more than a shot of the back of my head." The woman looked confused by this offer, and shot a glance at her husband who shrugged his shoulders. "In exchange for that, you give me the camera," Ryan said. "I’ll have the pictures developed and returned to you. Minus, of course, the shot of us when we didn’t know we were being photographed."

The woman was nearly frozen with indecision. She was slightly embarrassed, but the prospect of having a posed shot with these two who had been the topic of conversation around the water cooler at her office in Los Angeles for several weeks was too tempting to pass up. "All … all right," she said, as Ryan signaled for their waiter.

"Will you take a photo of us with these … people?" she asked, handing him the camera.

"Of course," he said, feeling the tension that rolled off the young woman.

The other couple stood, and Ryan led Jamie to stand next to the man. She then guided the woman next to Jamie and stood on the other side of her. She nearly spit when the woman slid an arm around both her and her partner, then tilted her head towards hers, but she honored her pledge and even managed a thin smile. When the waiter handed the camera back, she held it tightly and asked for the woman’s address. Looking longingly at the camera, the fledgling paparazzi had the nerve to say, "Why don’t you let me have them developed? I promise I’ll throw that other picture away …" Ryan’s glare increased dramatically, and she bit off the rest of her statement and began to write her address on a slip of paper.

"Thank you," she said insincerely as she placed her hand on the small of Jamie’s back to lead her back to their table.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Luckily, the other couple was on the verge of leaving when the woman took the picture, and they departed moments after Jamie and Ryan sat back down. Ryan gave her partner a look filled with sorrow — so like the haunted, anxious gaze that had settled on her face after the car jacking. She looked like she was on the verge of apologizing, but Jamie lifted a hand and placed two fingers against Ryan’s lips to stop her. "You handled that beautifully, and no, it didn’t ruin my evening," she insisted. Ryan tried to contradict her, but she held firm. "It really didn’t. Actually, in a weird way, it enhanced my appreciation of you. If that’s possible," she added with a playful wink.

"Please, go on," Ryan said, summoning a half-smile.

"Okay," Jamie said, making her voice as bright and cheerful as possible. "I got to see how quick you are to protect me and come to my defense. By the time that flash finished clicking, you were across the room," she said, "and I know that was because you thought I’d be upset … right?"

"Right," Ryan nodded, her smile increasing steadily.

"I got to see how quick-witted you are, too," she continued. "It was fascinating to see you figure out how to get that camera away from her without force — that was sweet."

"Force was next on my list," Ryan said, with a note of chagrin in her voice. "She wasn’t gonna leave here with a picture of us on the night I …" She pulled back from the brink, mentally slapping herself as she realized she had almost blurted out her plans for the evening.

"On the night you what, sweetheart?" Guileless green eyes peered over at her, and Ryan cudgeled her brain to come up with an acceptable answer.

"On the night I got to share Valentine’s Day with you for the first time," she said, wincing at the inelegant way that sounded, even thought it was the literal truth.

"But she will get a picture of us, if you follow through on what you said you’d do."

"True," Ryan said. "But that one was posed. We both knew it was being taken. I just didn’t want to have a photo taken when we were so unguarded. It’s too personal."

"So, you do think she’ll try to sell it," Jamie said, an unhappy frown on her face.

"Yes. She probably will," Ryan said. "But she and her husband are in it, and it would be hard to crop them out without making it look like it had been doctored. That’s why I had her stand between us," she said, an eyebrow twitching. "Now if she sells it, she’ll know what it feels like to have strangers coming up and pointing at her in the grocery store. Justice," she added firmly.

* * * * * * * * * * *

An elegantly dressed man hurried over to the table, apologizing profusely even as he approached. "I am so very sorry, Ms. Evans," he murmured. "I’m Banks Rein, and your mother and I are well acquainted. If you will allow me to, I’d like to offer your meal compliments of the house."

"It’s nice to meet you," she said. "This is my partner, Ryan O’Flaherty."

He grasped Ryan’s extended hand and began to lift it to his lips. A startled look from Ryan, however, caused him to change his plans and shake it lightly. "I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms. O’Flaherty."

"It’s not necessary to pay for our dinner," Jamie demurred. "We’re used to being harassed by now."

"Frankly, I’m shocked that someone would have the nerve to invade your privacy like that. I’m very, very sorry for the intrusion."

"Don’t give it another thought," she said once again. "It’s not something that you could have controlled."

"You’re equally as gracious and charming as your mother," he said as he took her hand and kissed it gently.

Ryan watched him walk away, giving him a narrow-eyed glance. "Do you like to have your hand kissed?" she asked, still looking in his direction.

"I don’t mind a bit. It’s pretty common in Europe, so I’m used to it."

"Hey, I’m more European than you are," Ryan said, "and he almost got more of my hand in his face than he wanted."

"Ireland’s a whole other Europe," Jamie teased, grasping Ryan’s hand and kissing the inside of her wrist, making the buss as delicate and sensual as she could manage.

"On second thought …" Ryan murmured with her eyes half closed.

"I knew you were open minded," Jamie nodded as she released her hand.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The entrees were as spectacular as the appetizers, and the wine that Jamie chose perfectly complemented both of their selections. Ryan was about ready to curl up on the table for a nice long nap now that her stomach was full and the wine had so thoroughly relaxed her. Regrettably, she had to sneak down to the kitchen and arrange to have the ring placed into their dessert. She excused herself to use the facilities, grimacing when Jamie pointed her away from the stairs, and towards the rest rooms on the second floor.

"I want to see what the place looks like from down there," she said, and Jamie nodded, sparing a smile for her inquisitive nature. Before she got to the stairs, she ran into the maitre d’ and pulled him aside. "I’m trying to arrange to have a ring baked into my partner’s dessert."

"We’re making heart-shaped fallen chocolate cakes tonight. They’re fantastic. Let me take care of it for you," he offered. "I’ll make sure that it’s handled properly. It’s truly a madhouse in the kitchen tonight."

She extracted the dark blue velvet covered container from her pocket and handed the ring over, smiling when he exclaimed, "Goodness! What a beautiful piece! Ms. Evans will be thrilled."

"I sure hope so," Ryan said, still slightly worried that she had made the right choice.

"She will," he said, grasping her hand and beginning to lift it to his lips. Suddenly, he stopped himself and flipped her hand around and caught it in a handshake, smiling as he scurried away for the kitchen.

"How did you get to the rest rooms without me seeing you?" Jamie asked when Ryan returned.

How much wine did I have? Ryan thought to herself. I’m not thinking things through! "Uhm … I decided I didn’t have to go. I spent a minute looking around up here a little bit. Did you see those wall light thingies?"

"The sconces?" Jamie asked.

"Okay … if you say so. Whatever you call them, they’re awesome!"

The waiter approached and asked, "Can I interest you in dessert?"

"Oh, I should say no," Jamie began as Ryan’s eyes widened. "But, I could be persuaded."

The smaller woman surveyed the menu, then turned to the waiter and said, "The chocolate cake for my partner, and the passion fruit cake for me."

"I think you should have the chocolate cake, too," Ryan said, her eyes widening again.

Jamie lowered the menu and stared at her for a moment. "Uhm … why?"

"You love chocolate," she said, even to her own ears the argument sounding lame.

"Yes, yes, I do. But I had golden pike for dinner, and I’d prefer something to cleanse my palate of the oiliness of the pike. You, on the other hand, had the lamb shank, which chocolate would complement quite well. Don’t you think so, Robert?" she asked the waiter, who she was now on a first name basis with.

"I would tend to agree," he nodded, smiling at Ryan.

Okay, now I have to figure out how to get the damned ring onto a spoon and feed it to her. I can do it, I know I can! "All right. Passion fruit it is. I guess that’s appropriate for Valentine’s Day, too."

"We’d like some champagne, Robert. This is a very special occasion, so we’d like something special. Do you have any recommendations?"

He pursed his lips for a moment and said, "I can’t recommend one bottle that would perfectly suit your dessert choices. The passion fruit and chocolate have very little in common."

He looked so sad at this admission, that Jamie took pity on him. "Ignore our dessert choices then. Bring us the most extraordinary bottle of champagne that you have."

"That I can do," he said, looking positively giddy.

As he dashed away, Ryan rested her chin on her braced hand and said, "Extraordinary, huh?"

"This is a very special occasion, Ryan O’Flaherty," the blonde said. "This is the first of many, many Valentine’s Days we’ll spend together. I want to start off right."

"No arguments," Ryan said. "It is a special night." Her eyes darkened with emotion, and she took Jamie’s hand in hers. "I love you so very much," she whispered. "I know our love with continue to grow, but my heart is already filled to bursting. I don’t know where more love can fit."

She had such an adorable expression on her face that Jamie couldn’t resist the urge. She had to rise a few inches and lean across the table to kiss her lover soundly. She was about to lean in for another when she noticed Robert returning. Sitting up, she gave him a warm smile to show she didn’t mind being interrupted. "A Krug brut blanc de blanc," he said with obvious pride. "Clos du Mesnil, 1988. A truly wonderful year."

He opened the wine soundlessly, and poured an ounce or two into Jamie’s glass. She let the wine sit on her tongue for a moment, then gently swirled it around. "Oh, Robert," she said in a tone that she usually reserved for Ryan alone. "This is glorious."

Beaming a smile at her, he started to pour, but Jamie stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I’d like to wait until dessert arrives," she said. "It will stay cold in the ice."

He looked aghast and said, "Then I’ll bring you another bottle! It will be ruined if it sits open for that long."

"No, really, it’s fine," she said firmly. He looked like he wanted to argue, but ultimately controlled himself and left the table.

Jamie looked around the restaurant, her eyes narrowing as she twitched her chin towards the staircase and said, "Doesn’t that woman remind you of Brendan’s girlfriend?"

Ryan’s head swiveled around, and as it did so, Jamie plopped Ryan’s ring into the open bottle of champagne, hoping that her partner’s sensitive hearing hadn’t picked up the sound.

"That chubby, middle-aged woman with the mousy brown hair?" The dark eyebrow lifted, as she said, "Yeah. They could be twins." Looking pointedly at the champagne, Ryan added, "You’ve had enough. Tell your new friend to put the cork back into that baby."

A startled squeal caught their attention, and they both turned to see a young woman throw her arms around a blushing young man and squeal once again. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, I’ll marry you!"

Ryan turned back to her partner with an amused smirk on her face. "Sign of the season," she said. The young woman was so exuberant that her voice could be heard all through the mezzanine. "How did you know this was my favorite stone? It’s so unique! I love the square cut!" she added. "How on earth did you ever afford this, Sam? Three stones! Three stones!" she exclaimed again.

The young man looked completely stunned, and suddenly it hit Ryan that one good reason to look stunned was if you had not intended to ask the woman to marry you at all. She strained her eyes and saw the chocolate cake in front of the woman, and before she knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, crossing the room to stand in front of the couple. "Uhm … congratulations!" she said, trying to look calm as the puzzled couple looked up at her. "May I see your ring?" she asked, knowing that she had mere seconds before the couple called for security.

The nonplussed woman reluctantly extended her left hand, and Ryan nearly kissed it when she saw the ruby surrounded by diamonds. "It’s magnificent!" she gushed, "Congratulations!" Then she ran back to her own table, to try to explain to a startled looking Jamie why she had gone berserk. "It’s an old Irish custom," she said, trying to think of a reasonable one. "The sooner someone congratulates you after you get engaged, the longer your marriage will last."

"Well, they’ll see the next millennium in," Jamie dryly observed, thinking that perhaps they had both had enough to drink.

Robert returned with their desserts, and when he barely had the plates down, Ryan was digging in, looking more like an excavator than a diner. Her spoon slid through the still-warm cake until she finally felt it hit something metallic. She secured the ring onto the spoon, smoothing her fingertip across the edge of the utensil to make sure it was hidden, then extended the spoon towards Jamie, while Robert began to pour.

"No! I’ll do it!" Jamie said, eyes wide with alarm as she reached for Robert’s arm. But he had already filled Ryan’s glass, and was starting to pour hers. She looked up at him, then shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "Go ahead. Fill mine, too."

As he did, a heavy ring slipped through the neck of the bottle and landed in Jamie’s glass with a splat. Robert’s eyebrows lifted dramatically, then he gave Jamie a chagrined look and stood stock-still, waiting to be dismissed.

"Thanks," she said unenthusiastically.

Robert rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, then left as quickly as he was able.

Ryan took one look at the frustrated expression on her partner’s face, then another at the chocolate covered ring on her spoon, then a third at the ring lying in the bottom of Jamie’s champagne flute, and she started to laugh. She laughed harder and harder, finally placing the spoon into her own mouth, and sucking the chocolate off of it while she giggled. Taking it from her mouth, she dropped it into her own champagne flute, then extended the glass towards her stunned partner. "Wanna trade?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ryan was still chuckling softly when the valet handed her keys over. The door closed with a thunk and she fastened her seat belt, then spared another amused glance at her partner. "This must be the first case of someone actually taking a ring back because the presentation was ruined. I didn’t even get to look at it!"

"I’m not taking it back," Jamie explained patiently. "That attempt was a complete failure, so we’re gonna try again when we get home."

"It wasn’t a failure," Ryan insisted. "It was funny."

"I’m not looking for funny, sport," Jamie said. "I’m looking for romantic. This didn’t cut it, and we’re gonna keep trying until we get it right."

Ryan rolled her eyes and gave in; knowing that the determined look on her lover’s face was insurmountable.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Hi, Mia," Jordan said, her voice a little quieter and less animated than usual. "Happy Valentine’s Day."

"Hi, baby," Mia said as she put her earphone/microphone into the handset of the cordless phone and lay down on the loveseat in the living room. "How’s the sweetest, cutest Valentine I’ve ever had?"

"I’m okay," she said, sounding anything but. "It doesn’t seem like we’re celebrating when we’re apart, does it?"

"No, not really. I miss you so much," she sighed. "Las Vegas can’t come soon enough for me."

"Me, either," Jordan said softly, suddenly feeling like she wanted to cry.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," Mia demanded. "What’s going on? You sound very upset."

With another long sigh, Jordan said, "No, not very upset. Only a little. I talked to my mother today, and she’s decided to come to Sydney — with my brother and grandmother."

"Oh." Mia was quiet for a moment, not quite sure of how to react. She knew that Jordan’s relationship with her mother was strained at best, but she still had a vague thought that it might be important to her to have her family with her at the games. "Does that upset you? It sounds like it does."

"Mia," she said, her voice shaking with emotion, "how do you feel about me telling my family about us?"

Once again, Mia was silent for a moment, not being able to get a good read on Jordan. From the tone of her lover’s voice, she realized that her answer was important, so she decided to be as honest as possible and hope the answer was correct. "Honey, I haven’t given it much thought. I guess I figured you’d decide when and how you wanted to do it." There was stark silence from the other end, so she kept going. "I guess I thought I’d follow your lead. Any way you want to handle it is all right with me."

"Any way?" Jordan asked, her soprano voice even higher than normal.

"Sure. Any way. I want this to go as well as possible for you. Do you want me to be there when you talk to them? I will be, if it will help." She kept her voice low, and soothing, and as if her partner’s voice was coated with ice, she heard it begin to melt.

She began with a long exhalation, then asked with a healthy dose of incredulity, "Would you honestly do that for me?"

"Of course! Of course I would, Jordan. I’d do anything for you. I love you, you know."

"I … I don’t know why this is so important to me," Jordan’s raspy voice managed to whisper. "It means so much that you’re not ashamed to be my lover. It means so much, Mia."

"Oh, Jordy!" Taking a breath to calm her racing heart, Mia murmured, "How can you even think such a thing? I’ve already told my brother, and you know how much he means to me."

"I know," she murmured shakily.

"You’re the best person to ever come into my life. I’m so proud of you — proud of us, Jordan. Please believe me."

"I’m … I’m feeling bruised and battered today. I don’t know why, but I desperately need you tonight. This is so hard," she sighed.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Mia soothed, wishing that she could crawl through the phone line and wrap Jordan up in her arms. "It is hard — harder than I ever imagined." She could hear Jordan give a little gasp, and she knew immediately what she was thinking. "But it’s worth it. It’s worth every lonely night to be your girlfriend, Jordan. I’m so proud of you."

"Thanks," she said, the tears straining her voice to the breaking point. "Thanks, Mia."

"Don’t you dare thank me for loving you," Mia soothed gently. "I’m so lucky to have found you, Jordan. You’re the best thing in my life."

"Me, too," the blonde sighed, her voice quavering.

"Honey? You sound like you’re freezing. Are you in bed?"

"Yeah. It takes me a while to warm up." She chuckled gently and said, "I’m in my usual sexy attire — long underwear, a turtleneck, and two pairs of socks. God, I didn’t realize I was such a delicate little thing until I got to Colorado."

"You’re my delicate little thing, and I wish I was snuggled up next to you, warming you up."

"I wish I was next to you so I could sleep naked and feel your skin against mine." Her voice had grown low and soft, giving Mia chills.

"Just a few days, Jordan, and you’ll have your wish. It’ll be warm in Las Vegas, and even warmer when we’re in bed together." She paused briefly and said, "Would you like to hear what I’d like to be doing if you were in my arms right now?"

"Right now?" the blonde asked, her voice cracking like a 12-year-old boy’s.

"Yeah," Mia purred. "Right now."

"Uhm … that would be nice," Jordan said. She paused for a second and asked, "Are we gonna have phone sex?"

"No," Mia said. "We’re gonna love each other. But this time we have to do it over the phone."

"I like the sound of that," Jordan sighed again. "I love loving you."

"I love loving you, too, baby. And tonight I need you to stand in for me and love yourself."

"I will if you will," Jordan said quietly, and Mia smiled when she heard the excitement in her voice.

"Oh, I will," the smaller woman promised. "I hope the girls don’t come home early, though — ‘cause they’ll get a show!"

Mia was still lying on the sofa in the living room when her roommates returned home, having made herself presentable after the more heated parts of her phone call had taken place. She scampered from the couch, grabbing at each woman’s left hand. "What?" she demanded when she saw that both were devoid of adornment. "No, Jordy, I can’t tell you what the rings look like on them, because they’re not wearing them! What in the heck is going on?" she demanded of her friends.

Ryan disconnected the earphone to avoid having Mia interpret and said, "Hi, buddy. No, we didn’t turn each other down. We had a little comedy of errors, and decided to take another stab at it once we were home. Piece of advice that I was given but chose not to follow," she said. "If you ever want to ask a woman to marry you — hand her the damned ring."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ryan called dibs on the bath, and she spent her usual five minutes getting ready for bed. Jamie took a much more leisurely approach, so Ryan tried her best to beat her to the punch most evenings. As usual, the smaller woman left the door open while she was brushing and flossing her teeth and washing her face, so that she could chatter away. "What are the odds of us having the same idea for the same day — without ever having discussed it?" she asked, still amazed that things had worked out as they had.

"Well, the Valentine’s Day thing is a pretty big motivator," Ryan mused. "I mean, if you were planning on getting engaged anytime between January and April you’d probably do it on Valentine’s Day. Women really like that," she added.

That caused Jamie’s head to pop out of the bathroom, an amused smile on her face. "Oh, is that so? Do you speak from your personal perspective as a woman, Ms. O’Flaherty?"

"Well, no," she said. "I kinda don’t get it, but Mia assured me that it was a girl thing, and that I should give up and go along with it."

"Mia did this, huh?" Jamie said. "How did you happen to ask for her advice?"

She went back into the bath as Ryan answered, "I was going to ask you on your birthday, but she said that girls liked Valentine’s Day better for things like this."

"Hmm … I hate to bow to stereotypes, but in my case, she’s right. I’m glad that you followed her advice."

She closed the door to finish her tasks, and Ryan ran out of the bedroom, went down the hall, and snuck into her own room; rifling through her dresser until she found her prize. A few minutes later, Jamie walked out of the bath, ruffling her hair with her hands as she crossed to her dresser. She was wearing only a pair of lipstick pink bikinis, and Ryan decided that her choice of attire was perfect. "Leave those on," she purred, causing Jamie to snap to attention.

Her eyes went to the dark figure sprawled against the cushions of the loveseat, a vision of long black hair, sparkling blue eyes, bright red and black satin. Ryan was sitting against one arm of the piece, one long leg drawn up under herself. A red satin chemise topped a black satin thong covered with tiny red hearts. A vivid red rose was held lightly between her white, even teeth, and the look in her eyes spoke of love, desire, and passion waiting to explode from her voluptuous body.

Taking the rose from her teeth with an elegant hand, she offered it up to her partner as she said, "Happy Valentine’s Day, Jamie."

The smaller woman closed her eyes and patted the skin over her heart with the flat of her hand. "Looking at you makes my heart skip a beat."

"That’s the general intent," Ryan purred, gazing at her with frank, open longing.

"Let me slip something sexy on," Jamie offered as she started once again for her dresser.

"What you have on is the pinnacle of sexiness. You couldn’t possibly improve on it." Ryan patted the seat next to her and gave Jamie an encouraging smile.

She stood rather awkwardly, rocking back and forth as she tried to make up her mind. "Uhm … I’d rather …"

"Go on," Ryan said. "I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable."

Jamie went to her dresser and removed a sheer white camisole, the fabric nearly diaphanous. Slipping it over her head, she twitched her butt tauntingly, knowing that Ryan was staring at her.

"Ooo," the low, honeyed voice purred.

"You are so predictable," Jamie teased, sitting down on the small sofa, imitating Ryan’s posture.

"It’s not that I’m predictable," Ryan insisted. "It’s that you know me so well." She shifted slightly to be able to face Jamie fully. "As well as you know me now, I’m truly looking forward to eventually having you know every single thing about me — every dream, every hope, every wish, every desire." She slid off the sofa and dropped to a knee; taking Jamie’s trembling hand in hers, shaking her head as she realized how very nervous she was.

Surprising the brunette completely, Jamie slid off the sofa as well, and once again mimicked Ryan’s pose. Each woman on one knee, they faced each other, neither sure of who should begin, their carefully planned speeches evaporating under the pressure. Ryan lifted a hand and began to trace the graceful, smooth planes of Jamie’s face, smiling into the touch when her lover’s hand returned the caress. They shared whisper-soft touches, generously interspersed with warm, moist, lingering kisses.

Ryan finally lifted her head to speak, but found such complete and utter understanding in the verdant eyes that gazed back at her, that she immediately recognized that words were completely superfluous. She removed the ring that she had tucked inside the strap of her wristwatch, and smiled warmly when Jamie turned her hand to remove hers from the identical spot on her own wrist.

Without a word, each woman extended her left hand, the ring fingers lifting slightly as they each settled the ring into place. As they shared nearly identical smiles, their arms slipped around each other’s waists and tightened into a tender embrace. Jamie lifted her head, seeking Ryan’s lips, which were gladly delivered. They kissed — gently, softly, but with a depth of emotion that touched each of them to the core.

Jamie finally broke the silence, gazing up into Ryan’s bright eyes to whisper, "One lifetime isn’t nearly enough."

Ryan beamed a smile back at her, a hint of longing in her dark blue eyes, as she shook her head the tiniest bit. She wanted to speak, to share the joy that filled her heart, but she was completely unable to form her feelings into words. Finally realizing that she was more fluent in her actions than her words, she tightened her embrace and pressed her lips against Jamie’s, letting her body convey the feelings that words could never express.

When the lingering kiss ended, they let their heads rest upon each other’s shoulder, each woman breathing in the scent of her partner for long moments. Without thought, Jamie’s hands began to move, and soon they were gliding across Ryan’s body. The dark-haired woman matched her actions, her hands greedily feasting upon the delights of her lover’s body. But even though her hands were ravenous for the dips and curves they encountered, Ryan didn’t feel the usual thrumming of sexual desire coursing through her body. It wasn’t sex that she craved this night — it was love. She desperately wanted to merge with her partner, to somehow slip into her skin and feel her blood pounding through her own veins; to know each nerve, each muscle, each cell that made up the woman who held her spellbound.

Jamie seemed to echo her quest, her hands tracing a whisper-soft path over Ryan’s sensitive skin. The green eyes shifted up and locked onto gentle blue orbs and they stared, transfixed, looking into the essence of each other’s souls.

Ryan’s head slowly dipped, and she tilted her chin to allow her lips to press against her partner’s. Slowly, every other sensation faded away. The only thing that existed for the dark beauty was the pair of soft, sweet lips that she feasted upon. It seemed as though her very survival depended upon remaining fastened to the warm mouth, and her hands went to cradle her partner’s head to ensure the connection.

After a very long time had passed, Ryan regretfully pulled away, gazing at her partner for a moment before saying, "Let’s go to bed."

Jamie nodded and got to her feet, waiting for Ryan to rise and take her by the hand. When they reached the foot of the bed Ryan ran her hands over Jamie’s body and asked, "Can I undress you?"

The blonde head nodded. "Please," she whispered. With tender hands, Ryan slipped the scant covering from her partner’s body, smiling gently when her lovely form was fully exposed.

"So very beautiful," the dark-haired woman sighed. "You’re absolutely magnificent."

Blushing warmly, Jamie let herself be tugged onto the surface of the bed and into Ryan’s embrace. She rested her head upon the red silk that covered her partner’s breast, and relaxed into the gentle touch that once again began to work up and down her skin. Then Ryan lowered her head and began to kiss her once again, but this time her caresses fell upon skin rather than lips. Starting at the hollow of her collarbones, she worked her way to the tips of her pink toes; again, not trying to enflame Jamie’s ardor — seeking only to communicate the deep, abiding love that burned in her soul.

Ryan climbed on top of her lover’s body, supporting most of her weight on her forearms. For a very long while she gazed at her, her face composed, her look almost curious. Jamie’s hand reached up and tenderly brushed a few stray strands of hair from her eyes.

As often as she looked at her lover, Jamie’s opportunities to study her were relatively infrequent. As she did so now, she found herself nearly breathless — practically in awe of the dark beauty’s loveliness. But as her eyes searched the blue orbs, she was struck, not by their beauty, but by the complete confidence she saw in them. Placing her hand on Ryan’s cheek she said, "You’re not afraid any more, are you?"

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "No. Not anymore." Admitting to the feelings she’d been trying to hide, Ryan said, "Even though I’ve been able to be intimate, I’ve been holding back a little." She lowered her head and kissed the moist, pink lips. "But tonight I finally feel free. I’m all yours, Jamie. Every part of me."

"I can tell," the blonde whispered. "It feels like it used to." She reached for Ryan’s lips and kissed her softly. "Maybe even a little better."

"That’s my goal," Ryan murmured. "To give myself to you completely every time we make love. It’s hard sometimes," she said, "but it’s so fulfilling when I can do it."

"I know it’s been hard for you," Jamie said softly.

Ryan’s eyes blinked slowly, and she said, "It has, but I could never let something so wonderful fade away. Being intimate with you is vital to me."

"It is to me, too," the smaller woman said. "That should be our lifelong goal. To always try to be as open and vulnerable with each other as we possibly can."

"I promise to try," Ryan vowed. She smiled gently and dipped her head once more, meeting Jamie’s lips tenderly. "Sealed with a kiss."

"I promise, too," the blonde whispered. Wrapping her arms tightly around her partner, she rolled her onto her side and kissed her for a very long time. "I love you so much," she murmured.

Ryan smiled warmly and said, "And I love you. More and more every day."

"A whole lifetime of loving you a little bit better with every day that passes: that’s my idea of heaven."

Holding her tenderly, Ryan nuzzled her face into her partner’s neck, composing herself enough to whisper, "I see heaven in your eyes."

* * * * * * * * * * *

As she tried to make her bleary eyes focus, Ryan jogged down the stairs to answer the doorbell. Who in the heck is at the door at this time of the morning? Oh well, at least it got my lazy butt out of bed. If left to my own devices, I would have been tempted to bag my whole morning schedule. As she flung the door open, she was surprised to come face to face with a huge bouquet of flowers, her nose twitching as a spider mum poked her cheek.

"Delivery for Evans-O’Flaherty," the invisible deliveryman announced.

"That’s me," she replied, and placed her hands around the substantial vase, relieving the now visible man of his burden. She turned and placed the vase on the hall table, then made eye contact with the visitor. "Do I need to sign for it?"

"No need," the attractive, well-dressed man said. "I own the shop."

Ryan shook her head, a smirk covering her face. "Let me guess," she drawled. "Catherine Evans is behind this special delivery."

"She said it was important that they arrive before you left for school," he said. "My delivery guys don’t start until eight, so I thought I’d drop them off on the way back from my daily visit to the flower mart."

"Catherine has a way of making things happen," Ryan said.

"For what she spends at my shop, I could afford to go to Holland to pick up those tulips," he said, nodding his head toward the arrangement. "Her complete satisfaction is very important to me." Ryan started to grab her wallet from the table, but he saw what she was doing and said, "No, really, there’s no need to tip me. But, I would appreciate it if you let Mrs. Evans know that you were happy."

"I’ll make sure to give her a good report," Ryan promised. "Thanks for going out of your way." She closed the door and stood back to assess the gift, marveling at the remarkable assortment of flowers the elaborate ceramic vase held. Snatching the large card, she trotted back up the stairs, dropped her sweats and slid into bed.

"Mmm … good morning to the future Mrs. Evans," Jamie purred lazily as she snuggled close.

"Good morning to you, the future Mrs. O’Flaherty," Ryan murmured. "How’s my fiancée this morning?"

"She’s good," Jamie mumbled through a yawn. "How’s mine?"

"She’s very good." Ryan wrapped her arms around her still-drowsy partner and cuddled her to her chest. "She’s well-loved, well-rested and ready to blind a few of her classmates when the sun hits her hand." Extending her left hand, she admired her ring, amazed that she felt perfectly at ease to have the substantial investment resting on her finger.

"Do you really like it?" Jamie asked, with the faintest note of worry in her soft voice.

Giving her answer thoughtful consideration, Ryan said, "It’s certainly not what I would have picked for myself."

Jamie’s heart picked up, suddenly chagrined at having asked Ryan such a direct question. She knew her partner was always frank about issues of style; and while she applauded her honesty, for a moment she wished this was one of the times Ryan would humanely lie to spare her feelings.

Ryan continued in her slow, analytical fashion, "I’m sure I would have tried to get away with something much more modest — if I consented to a ring at all." Now the smaller woman’s heart began to thud in her chest, beating so loudly that Ryan noticed it. "You okay?"

"Uh-huh," she said tightly. "Go on."

Ryan shrugged and continued. "I’m so glad that you didn’t consult with me before you bought it. It would have been a shame to let my frugal nature stop me from wearing something this gorgeous. This is a little much for me right now, but I’m going to wear it for the rest of my life, and I’ll slowly grow into it. If you bought me something I was comfortable with now, it would look kinda silly when I was in my forties or fifties."

"So you do like it?"

Lifting her head up so that she could look into Jamie’s eyes, Ryan cocked her head and asked, "How could I not like it? It’s stupendous, Jamie! Haven’t I made that clear?"

"Well, you seem a little hesitant …"

"Look," Ryan said, lifting Jamie’s chin with her fingers. "I am hesitant to get used to this kind of lifestyle. That’s no news flash. But being your spouse puts me into this economic stratum, and I’ve got to work on getting comfortable with it. It is what it is, and I refuse to have this be a chronic issue between us. I’m gonna try to chill a bit and look at the long view."

It took a little maneuvering, but Jamie managed to get Ryan’s hand close to her face. She spent a moment looking at the ring, admiring the way it looked against the long, elegant fingers. "It suits you," she said softly.

Ryan chuckled and nodded her head. "It does, strangely enough. I don’t see myself as the kind of woman who’s suited to diamonds of this size. I’m gonna have to do some mental adjustments." She gazed at the three oval diamonds, the center stone nearly two and a half carats, with each of the flanking stones over a carat. In color, they perfectly matched her diamond earrings, and the platinum band stylistically tied them to the platinum collars of the earrings as well. "I’m very glad that you bought it for me. And I’m flattered that you see me as an elegant enough woman to be able to pull off wearing it." They kissed gently, their lips barely brushing against each other. "What about yours? Are you happy with it?"

"Of course I am!" Jamie brought her hand up to rest between them, so they could both view the new ring. "I’m glad that we didn’t try to make them match," she said, considering the massive differences in the rings. "We would have both had to compromise to get something we both liked. I think it’s cool that they’re so different — they’re as different as we are."

"Yeah. A square cut emerald with two square cut diamonds in a yellow gold setting is about as far from mine as you can get," Ryan said. "Do you really like the square cut? I was torn between the square and the round."

"I prefer the square," Jamie said, "and I’m very glad you went with the Princess cut. It has so much more fire than the flat emerald cut. I don’t know why, but I’ve always pictured a square cut emerald when I thought about my engagement ring."

Ryan chucked as she said, "I can honestly say that the thought of an engagement ring had never crossed my mind. I don’t think that’s a common lesbian daydream."

"You’re my lesbian daydream," Jamie sighed as she wrapped Ryan in her arms, only to be poked by a sharp object. "Ow!"

"Oops." Ryan giggled as she took the card out from between their bodies. "Forgot about that."

Jamie removed the card from her hand and batted her eyes at her. "Oh … you bought me a card. How sweet."

"Can’t cop to that," Ryan said. "It’s from your mom. She had a bouquet the size of a Buick delivered this morning."

"Really? That’s cool," Jamie said, opening the card. She cleared her throat and read, "Congratulations, Jamie and Ryan. I know that your marriage will bring both of you unlimited happiness. I love you both,

Catherine."

"She’s a peach," Ryan said.

"There’s more," the smaller woman intoned. "We need to get together immediately to start planning! Dinner at my house tonight?"

Ryan pulled the covers over her head and muttered, "She was the soul of restraint for Da and Maeve, but I know she’s gonna take off the gloves now. Heaven help me!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Good news, Poppa," Jamie giggled into the phone later that day when she caught her grandfather in. "She said yes!"

"I’m speechless," he said. "I thought you’d have to spend weeks convincing her."

"No, she jumped aboard without a complaint. Gullible little thing, isn’t she?"

"I happen to think you both have excellent taste," he said. "I take it you’re both on cloud nine today?"

"Yes, except that mother wants to discuss our wedding plans tonight. I have a feeling that’s going to be a bit of a struggle with Miss ‘Can’t We Order a Pizza And Be Done With It?’"

"At least you don’t have to worry that she loves you for your money, Jamie," he reminded her. "Unless she’s a fabulous actress."

"No, she’s a pretty awful actress, actually. She genuinely doesn’t like having this much money. But she was very sweet about the ring I bought her. Nary a complaint."

"That’s good to hear. It’s not that common for couples to have the issue of fighting over too much money, but it can be as bad as having too little. I’m glad that you’re both trying to find a middle ground."

"We are," she said. "But still, Mother might try her patience with her plans for the ceremony. Can I convince you to join us for dinner — say, around eight?"

"I’m happy to. We have a few things to discuss, anyway, and we can wrap up my issues at the same time."

"Great. Meet us at Mother’s.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Hi, Mom, it’s me," Jamie announced late that afternoon. "Poppa’s on board, so we’ll be there around eight. Should we coordinate our ideas before we get together?"

"Why would we want to do that? Isn’t that the point of the meeting?"

"Not when Ryan’s involved," Jamie said with a chuckle. "She thought Martin and Maeve’s reception was ostentatious. I think we’re gonna have to struggle to get her to agree to anything fancy."

"I don’t want to make her uncomfortable," Catherine insisted. "We can keep this very low key."

"But I don’t want low key, Mom. I want something memorable. It doesn’t have to be opulent or anything, but I’ve dreamt about my wedding since I was a little girl. It’s important to me."

Catherine paused, thinking that perhaps it was unwise to discuss the issue until the young couple had come to a private agreement about the tone for the ceremony. "I don’t want this to cause trouble for you, Jamie," she said. "Maybe we should hold off until you and Ryan agree."

"Don’t worry about that," Jamie said. "We don’t fight about issues like this. Ryan acts like she’s making a huge sacrifice, then I thank her profusely. It all works out."

"If you’re sure," Catherine said warily.

"I am. I don’t want her to be unhappy, Mom. I can tell if she’s really uncomfortable, or being dramatic. I have found one trick that works, though. She likes to be able to compromise about issues like this."

"That’s good to hear," Catherine said, a smile reflected in her voice.

"So, what works is to ask for something outrageous," the younger woman revealed. "Then, the compromise is close to what I wanted anyway."

With a tone that was only partially teasing, Catherine said, "That’s frighteningly devious, sweetheart. Are you sure that’s a good idea?"

"Look, Mom," Jamie said. "She’s still talking about how fabulous Martin and Maeve’s wedding was. She loved the fact that it was a special day and that they had a party that was different from all of their other gatherings. She’s programmed to say that she doesn’t want it. If she could let herself go and say what she truly wants, I bet it’s nearly identical to what I want."

"You know her well, Jamie," Catherine said. "But try not to push her too hard. There’s nothing more unattractive than a woman who constantly manipulates her spouse."

"I understand that, Mom. We do tend to manipulate each other a little bit, but we get over it quickly if we don’t get our way. I’ll be fine with it if we end up having a barbeque in the back yard. But I’m going to ask for more than I want and see where we end up."

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Hey," Ryan called as she ran up the stairs after softball practice. They were on a tight schedule, so she didn’t take the time for her usual welcome home buss.

Jamie poked her head out of the kitchen and called up the stairs, "One day of being engaged and I no longer merit a hello kiss? This bodes ill, Ms. O’Flaherty."

"I’ll make it up to you later," Ryan hollered as she dashed into the shower.

"You’d better," the smaller woman chuckled in a normal tone of voice, since Ryan couldn’t hear her anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The first stop was to dash by Martin and Maeve’s to make their announcement. On the drive over the traffic-clogged bridge, Ryan said reflectively, "This is kind of an odd situation to be in, isn’t it?"

"What is?"

"To tell people that we’re engaged. It’s kinda bass-ackwards, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve told people that we’re, in essence, married. You already wear a wedding ring. We refer to each other as spouses. Yet, now we’re engaged. It’s odd."

"I don’t think it’s much odder than a straight couple who lives together, is it? They probably consider that they’re spouses, too."

"I guess," Ryan said. "I do kinda like the formality of being engaged, to tell you the truth. It’s cool to think of you as my fiancée. It’s like we get to do the whole thing over again. And having our families with us is going to make it special." She shot Jamie a wide grin and said, "I’m really looking forward to this. It’s one bit of heterosexual privilege that I want to claim."

Jamie grinned back at her, charmed by how much the ceremony meant to her partner. "You know, I was thinking about it today," she said. "I suppose I should take my wedding ring off until we make it official." She caught Ryan’s startled look and immediately followed up. "But I can’t. I couldn’t bear to."

A luminous grin lit up Ryan’s entire face. She reached across the car and captured her partner’s hand, bringing it close to her lips for a soft kiss. "I’m glad. I don’t want you to ever take it off."

"I’ll take off the engagement ring when I play golf," she said, "but I leave the wedding ring on all the time. I’m developing a nice little callus at the base of my finger, as a matter of fact. I like it," she said.

Since the hand in question was still available, Ryan tickled the callus with the tip of her tongue. "I look forward to developing my own. One more small reminder of my love for you."

"Only you could make a callus sound romantic," Jamie sighed as she unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over for a warm kiss. "Might as well give the other drivers something to talk about on their cell phones," she said.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Anybody home?" Ryan called out as she popped her head into her aunt’s house. As usual, the front door was unlocked, but she didn’t want to fully enter without permission; trying to give the newlyweds some level of privacy.

"Siobhán?" Martin’s voice carried from the kitchen.

"Yep." She and Jamie entered the house as Martin and Maeve exited the room.

"Did you come for dinner, girls?"

"No. We’re headed over to Catherine’s place for dinner, but we wanted to stop by and show you something first." She was smiling broadly, and Martin’s smile reflexively broadened to match hers.

"What is it?" Maeve asked.

"Last night we proved that we truly belong together," Ryan said. "We both had the same thought at exactly the same time."

"Get on with it," Martin ordered, his curiosity overriding his normal patience.

"We asked each other to marry," she announced proudly, with both her and Jamie extending their hands to Martin and Maeve’s astonished eyes.

"Holy mother of God!" Martin reached for both hands simultaneously. "I’ve been blinded!" he cried dramatically, as the light hit the substantial stones.

"Oh, girls," Maeve gushed, "I’ve never seen two more beautiful rings!" She tore her eyes away from the jewelry to gaze at her niece. "And you didn’t talk about this beforehand?"

"No, that’s why it’s so funny," Ryan said. "We knew that we wanted to have a commitment ceremony, but we hadn’t discussed it at all."

"Well, this is grand, just grand," Martin enthused, wrapping each woman in a hug, as Maeve did the same. "Congratulations, girls."

"Thanks, Da," Ryan said as she pulled away. "We’re running late to get to Catherine’s, but we had to stop by to let you know."

"Will you be home this weekend, love?"

"No. Another tournament. We’re gonna have to start coming over for dinner during the week so I can see you two."

"We’d be happy to bring Caitlin over some evening, too," Maeve offered. "She misses you fiercely when you don’t come home. She associates you both with church now," she revealed. "She was anxious all during Mass on Sunday, and I think she was looking for you."

"I’d love it if you’d bring her over," Ryan said. "But I hate to have you sit through that much traffic."

"We’ll come early and watch your softball practice," Martin suggested. "I’m off next Tuesday and Wednesday. Maybe we can do it then."

"Sounds like a plan," Ryan said as she kissed him goodbye. "We’ve gotta run now."

As they ran back down the stairs, hand in hand, Martin found himself transported to the morning that Ryan had announced that Jamie was the one for her. It was the morning that they’d left for Pebble Beach, and father and daughter were able to carve out a few private moments in the midst of doing laundry and packing.

"I can’t say I’m surprised, but I didn’t know you were ready to make a permanent commitment at this point in your life," Martin began.

Ryan’s clear blue eyes were slightly wide, and her expression was one of pure determination. "This is it for me, Da. You know I don’t enter into relationships easily, but this was the most natural thing in the world. I barely had to think about it."

"Had to do. That’s exactly it," she said reflectively. "This is something I had to do."

"I’m happy for you both," he whispered into her ear as he hugged her close. "I know you’ll be happy together."

"I know we will," Ryan said, sniffing a little. "I had a very good example of a successful marriage."

Expressing his seldom-revealed regret, Martin said, "I wish you would have had that example for many, many more years, darlin’." He held her close as the tears started to fall. "Your mother would have been so happy for you. And she would have loved Jamie like her own. I’m sure of that."

"Thanks, Da," she whispered, her voice too raw with emotion to speak any louder. "If it’s okay with you, I want to give Jamie Mama’s wedding ring. I want to always have her with us, and having Jamie wear it will always remind me of her."

He didn’t answer verbally, since he was too choked up to speak. He just hugged her so tight she was nearly bruised, giving her his enthusiastic permission.

"Marty … Marty." Maeve’s hand on his arm startled him from his reverie, and he shook his head to clear it.

"Sorry. I was wandering a bit."

"It’s hard to see her grow up so soon, isn’t it?" she asked softly.

"It is," he said. "Luckily, she’s chosen well. I have every confidence that they’ll love each for their whole lives."

"I do, too," she said, taking his hand. "Jamie’s a very lucky young woman. If Ryan’s anything like her father, and I know she is, Jamie’s going to be very well loved."

Martin gave his blushing bride a very enthusiastic kiss, giving complete credence to her words.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After Marta had worked her magic with a perfect paella, the foursome got down to business.

"Why don’t you start, Poppa?" Jamie suggested. "I know you have some thoughts about the timing of the ceremony."

"All right," he said. "Normally, I have an unwritten rule about marrying people who have only been together a short time. I generally request that a couple be together for two years, and be members of the congregation before I’ll agree to join them." Ryan’s eyes widened a bit, but he quickly said, "There is a benefit to being my granddaughter, though. I know that neither of you are behaving frivolously here and, given what you’ve been through in the past few months, I think there’s been a very good indication of the stability of your partnership. So I’m willing to waive my two year rule," he said. "I would, however, like to wait until you have a full year together. Is that something you can live with?"

"That’s fine," Ryan said immediately, and Jamie nodded her consent as well. "We could actually have the ceremony on the anniversary of our …" She searched for words to explain their bonding on that June day in Pebble Beach, finding herself completely tongue-tied.

Jamie came to her rescue, saying, "We pledged our permanent commitment to one another on June the fourteenth. I think it would be a great idea to have our wedding right around then."

Ryan nodded at this suggestion, and Charles agreed. "That’s fine, girls. Now the only other thing I need to have you do is participate in our marriage preparation class."

Looking a little ill, Ryan managed to say, "Another class? I don’t mean to be difficult, but I’ve got about all I can handle on my schedule now, Charlie. How big of a time commitment is this?"

"It’s two hours a week for eight weeks, Ryan. We’ve got a class starting up on the first week of March for all of the couples marrying in June." He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "I don’t feel comfortable waiving the requirement, especially since you’ve been together such a short time. I think it’s important — and I think it can help assure the success of your relationship."

"Oh, I’m not trying to get out of it," she said. "I’m trying to figure out how on earth I can participate."

"It won’t be easy for me either, Poppa," Jamie said. "When is the class?"

"It’s on Thursday nights," he said.

"That clinches it," Ryan said, shaking her head. "We either play on Thursday, or are on a plane going to a tournament. I’d have to quit the team to participate."

"No, no, don’t be silly," Jamie insisted. "We’ll figure this out."

Catherine piped up with a suggestion. "Why rush, girls? Now that you’ve decided not to go to graduate school yet, why not take it easy and have the ceremony later in the summer? That will give you time to plan and relax a bit after you graduate."

"Well, I like the idea of having it be on our anniversary, but I don’t see any way around this," Jamie said. "How about August, Ryan? Does that work for you?"

"August 26 is a perfect day," Ryan said, grinning widely. "It’s not only a Saturday, it’s my parents’ anniversary."

Reaching across the table, Jamie grasped Ryan’s hand and gave it a squeeze, locking her eyes on her as she said, "That’s a wonderful suggestion, sweetheart." Looking at her grandfather, Jamie asked, "Could we do a class that would allow us to use that date?"

"Yes," he said, looking at his schedule. "I can start another near the end of June. That’ll be just about right."

Giving her partner a big smile, Jamie said, "Let’s do it."

Charlie penciled the date in, as Catherine jotted the day down in her massive Filofax. "I think that’s a better time anyway, girls," Catherine said. "It gives me six full months to plan." Her eyes were twinkling, and Ryan knew the tag-team harassment was about to begin.

"Can I have a glass of wine before I’m beaten into submission?" she asked with an aggrieved expression on her face.

Charlie rose from his chair and patted her on the back. "Buck up, Ryan. You’ve marrying into a family of very determined women. You can either submit now, or submit later. Either way, the outcome is predetermined," he said, chuckling softly.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After taking a sip of her wine, Ryan said, "We haven’t discussed a pretty important element here. Since I’m broke, and Da isn’t flush, we either have to have a very modest affair, or the Evans family will wind up paying for the entire thing. How do you two feel about that?"

"I want to pay for it," Catherine insisted. "I want you to have exactly what you want, and I don’t want you to give the finances another thought." Looking at her daughter-in-law, she asked, "Can you live with that, Ryan?"

"Yeah, I think I can," she nodded. "At least, I’ll try my best." Looking at her partner, she said, "Having a wedding has never been a dream for me, but it has been for Jamie. I want this to be perfect for her."

"I want it to be perfect for you, too," Jamie said. "Let’s get to it, then. I suppose we have to decide on the location. I’d prefer to have the service in Poppa’s church, and then move to the reception. What about you, honey?"

"Agreed," said Ryan. "Weddings in an informal setting don’t seem real to me."

"Excellent," Jamie said, giving her partner a little wink. "See how easy this is?"

Charles made a note in his calendar and nodded for Jamie to continue.

"Next is the venue for the reception. We could do it in Hillsborough, but I was thinking that it might be nice to have it at a hotel, or a club. I’d like for Marta to be a guest — and she would never be able to let strangers into her kitchen without closely supervising them." She braced herself for Ryan’s rejoinder, expecting her opening volley to be a suggestion that they have the party in the backyard in Noe.

One dark eyebrow rose, then she nodded her head slowly. "How about the Olympic Club? After all, we are members."

Jamie nearly fell to the floor in amazement, but she managed to cover fairly well. "You’re okay with having it at Olympic?"

"I suggested it," Ryan said, blinking her big blue eyes ingenuously.

"All right," Jamie said, still a little flustered. "What do you think, Mom?"

"I think it’s a good idea. Olympic has a lot of family memories for us, too, Jamie. It’ll be rather homey." Giving Ryan a quick glance, she offered, "My only other suggestion is the Ritz-Carlton. They have a lovely room, and the food is better than it is at Olympic."

Ryan shrugged and said, "Either one’s fine with me." Then she relaxed in her chair and took a long sip of wine, smiling serenely at her stunned partner.

Going for an item that she knew would provoke controversy, Jamie said, "I’d like to have a formal reception. What do you think, Ryan?"

"I’m not sure I know what that means," Ryan said, waiting for elucidation.

"Well, everyone in the wedding party would wear formal attire. Tuxes for the men and gowns of some sort for the women."

"What about the guests?" she asked, looking very dubious.

"The men would have the option of wearing a suit or a tux, and the women could choose between a dress and a formal gown."

Her eyebrows remained in their hitched position as she enunciated clearly, "Some women will be wearing slacks, Jamie. One of them is in the wedding party."

"We can work that out," she soothed. "I know you wouldn’t feel comfortable in a bridal gown with a big train."

Once again, Ryan stunned the assembled group when she shrugged her broad shoulders and said, "Okay. As long as I can wear slacks, whatever you want to do is okay with me."

"You don’t mind that your cousins will have to wear suits? And your brothers will have to wear tuxes?" This was too much agreement for the smaller woman’s brain to process, and she took another swallow of wine to calm her nerves.

"Nope. Won’t kill ’em." Another small, satisfied grin took up residence on her face, and Jamie wondered once again who this imposter was.

"Well, maybe we should discuss how many people we want to invite," Jamie suggested, giving Ryan another quick look. "I was thinking about 250."

Now Ryan’s familiar scowl settled on her face, and Jamie was reassured that the tall beauty at her side was really her partner. "I don’t know about that," she said, adding a little headshake to emphasize her disagreement. "I think we might have to go higher than that."

"Higher?"

"Well, yeah," Ryan said, ticking the categories off on her fingers. "Family on my side alone will be over 50. If we invite all of my aunt’s people, I could easily get to 100. I want to invite my volleyball team and all of the coaches, my softball team; the basketball team can kiss my Irish ass," she added with a grin. "A lot of people from the AIDS Ride, some of the people from my old gym …" Blinking at Jamie, she hesitated and asked, "Is that too many?"

Jamie held up a hand, trying to make the words coming out of Ryan’s mouth fit with her usual parsimony. "You don’t mind having three or four hundred people at our wedding?"

"Why would I mind?" she asked, cocking her head. "I want to share this with everyone who’s important to me." Narrowing her eyes a tiny bit, she asked, "Don’t you?"

"Of course I do," Jamie immediately said. "But I thought you’d want to keep it simple and quiet."

"Heck no! This is a very big deal to me, Jamie. I never thought I’d get to have anything like this, and now that I can, I want to blow the lid off! I want this to be a party that people will remember for years!" Her face was beaming such a wide grin that Jamie’s astonishment faded away, to be replaced with a matching smile.

"I want that, too," she said, leaning over to press her lips against Ryan’s. She kissed her cheek several times, adding a firm hug. "I want everyone we care for to be there with us."

Ryan nodded, slipping an arm around her to return the hug. "We’ve had the private ceremony. This one’s a party."

As she sat upright, Jamie spared a glance for her mother and grandfather, who were both doing their best not to laugh. "The only consistent thing about Ryan O’Flaherty is her consistent inconsistency," she announced. "Thank God I love every one of her adorable quirks."

* * * * * * * * * * *

By the time they left, they had decided on either the Olympic Club or the Ritz, depending on availability and capacity; hiring a band so that Rory didn’t have to work; a noon church service, with the reception beginning at six o’clock; a full dinner with dancing afterwards; and a honeymoon trip of undetermined length and destination.

They were settled in the Boxster, and Ryan had dropped the top, even though the night was cool. She had been going non-stop since six a.m., and she thought the cool air might help revive her. Since Jamie was tired as well, she didn’t complain, even though the weather was quite brisk.

Riding in companionable silence until they reached the bridge, Jamie leaned over as far as she could and tucked her left hand under Ryan’s jacket, knowing that her body heat would warm it in seconds. "You pleasantly surprised me tonight, tiger," she said reflectively.

"How so?" Ryan asked over the whipping of the wind as they passed by the massive supports of the bridge.

"I thought you’d have a lot of problems with the ideas I suggested for the reception. I’m still amazed at how agreeable you were."

Sparing a warm smile, Ryan said, "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"That’s how I meant it," Jamie said, giving her side a little pat.

"I meant what I said earlier," Ryan said. "This is the first and last time I’ll ever have a huge party like this. We might as well do it up right."

"You’re honestly okay with all of the elements we decided on?"

"Well, the formal dress is a little much, but I want you to be happy, Jamie. If you get pleasure out of that, I figure it’s the least I can do. After all," she said, "the bride pays for the wedding. You should have the bigger say."

Giving her a pinch, she demanded, "If I’m the bride, who are you?"

"Mmm … I’m not sure. I only know that I’m not the bride."

"Maybe we’ll have the ushers ask the guests whether they want to sit on the bride or the non-bride’s side," Jamie said.

"Works for me. I’m neither a bride, nor a groom. Those terms don’t fit me."

"The title doesn’t matter," Jamie insisted. "All that matters is that you love me and I love you."

"That’s a title I can get behind," Ryan said, gracing her partner with a winning smile. "I’m a Jamie-lover."

* * * * * * * * * * *

When Ryan came home from her morning class on Wednesday, the phone rang right as she was wrestling with the key in the lock. Grabbing the device, she said, "H’lo?"

"Hi, Ryan, it’s Amanda."

"Oh, hi. What’s up?"

"I think I’ve found you a group that will fit your stringent requirements," the doctor said.

"Oh, boy," Ryan said, letting her decided lack of enthusiasm show.

"You don’t have to go, Ryan," Amanda said. "I won’t think badly of you if you’re not able to commit to this. But I believe that at this point, you’ll get more from the group than you will from me."

Ryan sighed, and chided herself for giving Amanda a hard time. "Let’s hear the details."

"It meets in Oakland, which shouldn’t be too inconvenient; and the best news is that it meets at 7 a.m. on Monday and Thursday. How does that sound?"

Forcing herself to be polite, Ryan said, "It sounds like you went to a lot of trouble to find this for me, Amanda. I might not sound very enthusiastic, but I appreciate that. I guess the group meets tomorrow?"

"Yes, it does. Bright and early."

"Uhm … Jamie and I are going to Las Vegas tomorrow for a softball tournament … I’m not sure I can …"

"When does your flight leave, Ryan?"

Blowing out a breath, Ryan admitted, "Late afternoon. I guess you’d better give me the address — since I suppose I’m headed over there in the morning."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Later that afternoon, Ryan rushed around the house, getting her gear packed for the short bus trip to Moraga for a double-header against St. Mary’s. The day was very overcast, and promised a good drenching, so she made sure she took the new rain jacket that Jamie had purchased for her. She was almost out the door when the phone rang; and when she heard her father’s voice on the machine, she dashed over and picked up. "Hey, Da, I’m about to head out. What’s up?"

"Your aunt and I talked about it today, Siobhán, and we’re not willing to wait another week to see you. I arranged to take the afternoon off, so we’re going to come see your game."

Smiling brightly at his thoughtfulness, she warned, "I’d love to have you, Da, but it looks like we might get rained out. I hate to see you drive that far for nothing."

"Not to worry. I know it’s a risk, but one you’re well worth. Tell Jamie we’ll see her there."

"Okay. I love you, Da. Thanks for being so supportive of me."

"Always a pleasure, love. Now see what you can do about getting your coach to let you play an inning or two, okay? I want to see you stretch those long legs."

"Will do," she said, knowing that he was kidding.

* * * * * * * * * * *

On the bus ride to St. Mary’s, Ryan sat in the seat behind Jackie, and they played one of their favorite games — "guess who’s driving the car." The point of the game was to guess the sex and approximate age of the drivers of the cars they passed, and over the weeks Ryan had gotten quite good at it. But she was still no match for Jackie, who beat her every time out.

Nearing their exit on the freeway they approached a black Nissan mini truck, and Ryan called out, "Two people … no, three. A man, a woman and a baby. Both of the adults are in their late fifties, and the baby is …" she scrunched her nose as she appeared to concentrate, "about a year and a half." Nodding, she added, "The baby’s blonde." The bus passed the truck, and Jackie shot a quick look at the occupants, then turned to Ryan with her mouth hanging open. "My parents and my cousin," the taller woman laughed heartily.

"Your parents, huh? Have they been to any of the other games?"

"Nope. They came to almost every volleyball and basketball game I played in, but our games are a little harder for them to get to, since they’re usually in the afternoon. Besides, since I generally don’t play, I hate to see them waste a trip to see me sit on the bench."

Jackie gave her a concerned look and asked, "Do you ever resent not playing? I mean, it’s obvious that you have a ton of talent, Rof."

"No, I really don’t," she said. "I played my ass off in volleyball and basketball. I’m enjoying being part of the team." She smiled and said, "I think my father would enjoy getting to see me play, but he won’t be disappointed if I don’t."

"I don’t think my parents will get to make it to a game this year," Jackie said wistfully. "This is calving season, and you don’t leave the farm when you’ve got a bunch of animals giving birth."

"How about later in the year?" Ryan asked.

"They promised they’d go to Oklahoma City if we make it to the College World Series," she revealed. "That’d be sweet."

"Well, we’re undefeated," Ryan reminded her. "If we keep playing like this, we’re a lock."

"Uh-huh," Jackie said, knowing that Ryan was joking. "It’s one thing to do well in the early season. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to kick ass in the PAC-10."

"St. Mary’s … Arizona … UCLA … no difference," Ryan said, pumping up the bravado. "Just a bunch of girls who can’t touch us!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Cal was beating St. Mary’s 3-0 in the fourth inning when the rain started to fall. It was a light drizzle, not enough to halt play, but it looked like it was the front edge of a much bigger storm. Cal was at bat, and when Jackie went to the on-deck circle to warm up, she took a few tentative swings and signaled the trainer. After a brief consultation, she headed back to the dugout, and Ryan heard Coach Roberts call out, "O’Flaherty! Grab a bat and earn your keep!"

"Yes, sir!" she yelled back, getting to her feet so quickly that she almost tripped over her own bag. Sparing a glance a Jackie, she saw her friend give her the okay sign, relieving her worry about her injury. Ryan dashed to the bat rack and pulled out her favorite, then ran to the on deck circle and started to warm up. She didn’t have much time to spare, but she did manage to find her family in the stands and give them a ghost of a wink.

Of course, Martin, Maeve and Jamie all waved excitedly, and Ryan hoped that her teammates didn’t notice their exuberance. Softball, above all of her other sports, was about being cool — and having your family hooting and hollering was far from cool. Inwardly, however, Ryan was tremendously pleased that her family was there to see her finally get to play in a real game.

Julie, the catcher, made the second out, and as Ryan narrowed her concentration to approach the plate, it hit her: Jackie was faking her injury! Her friend had obviously wanted Ryan to get to play in front of her parents — and she had decided to take the matter out of the coach’s hands. Ryan shot a quick glance to the bench and saw her friend sitting at the far end, grinning widely. Damn! she thought, approaching the plate and knocking the mud from her spikes. Well, no matter how it happened, I’m in the game. I might as well take advantage of it.

Standing at the plate, she focused intently, trying to see only the ball. The pitcher had a rough, irregular motion, and she forced herself to ignore all of the twitches and jerks and concentrate on that yellow orb. Ryan had been studying the pitcher throughout the game, and she smiled inwardly when the woman threw her a fastball off the plate, the same as she had with Jackie at her previous two at bats. Assuming that she’d follow up with the same second pitch slider that she had throw her predecessor, Ryan focused even more intently, and was ready for the ball when it reached her. She swung and made solid contact, knocking the ball over the head of the shortstop, where it fell, untouched. Lupe, who had been on second, ran for all she was worth, and she scampered across the plate moments ahead of the desperate throw from the left fielder. Ryan knew they’d throw home, so she headed for second as soon as the ball left the fielder’s hand. The catcher fired down to second, and Ryan arrived a split second before the ball, sliding in safely.

She asked for a time out, and then hopped up, trying to brush the dirt from her once-pristine uniform. But the drizzle had turned the dirt to mud, and she could already feel it seeping through her uniform. That’s more like it, she thought to herself. Nothing like a filthy uniform to make you feel like you contributed!

* * * * * * * * * * *

After thumping Jackie on the head with her oversized first baseman’s mitt, Ryan ran out to take her position in the field. Sparing a glance into the stands, she made eye contact with Jamie, who blew her a huge kiss, and then tried to get Caitlin to do the same. It was hard to concentrate with the adorable blondes in the stands, but she managed to block out everything except the game, not even noticing when the rain picked up by the end of the inning.

They had a long rain delay, and after having a word with the coaches, she ran over to the fence to speak to her family. "You might as well pack it in. If we can finish this one, we will; but they’re pretty sure they’ll call the next one."

"You were awesome!" Jamie crowed.

"It was only a single," Ryan demurred, but it was obvious to all that she was pleased with herself.

"You did well," Martin said. "And thank that coach for finally coming to his senses."

"Will do, Da. Love you," she said in parting. As she dashed back to the dugout she mused, It’s Jackie I have to thank. Coach still thinks I’m a bench ornament.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Departing Moraga, Jamie drove to Berkeley to prepare for the second wave of O’Flahertys visiting the East Bay. With all of their demanding schedules, this was the only night the girls were able to get together with Brendan and Maggie to discuss the real estate plans, so Jamie rushed to the store to buy enough groceries to make a simple dinner for the small group.

By the time the second game was finally called due to darkness and rain, Jamie nearly had dinner ready. Brendan and Maggie arrived well before Ryan returned, and Jamie and Mia entertained the pair with an extended retelling of the engagement ring fiasco. It amused Jamie to no end that the story had already become Mia’s to tell, but she didn’t mind, since her friend did a marvelous job of recounting the tale. They were still laughing when Ryan finally arrived, hair wet and slicked back off her face, but clothing completely dry — sparing her a swat from her disciplinarian lover.

After dinner, Mia retired to spend her evening on the phone, while the foursome sat around the table, with Jamie furiously scribbling notes.

Maggie had worked on a few real estate investment partner deals, so she had some valuable insight as to how the deal should be structured. Most of her ideas made perfect sense, but both Ryan and Brendan balked at her idea of how to assign partnership interests.

"I know it makes logical sense to have each cousin get a share equal to the hours he puts in, but that’s not a good idea with this bunch," Brendan said, with Ryan nodding her agreement. "The boyos do better when it’s all for one, one for all."

"If they have to keep track of hours, they’ll be squabbling constantly," Ryan said. "I propose that they each get an equal share. They’ll police themselves into working harder that way — I’m certain of it."

"Okay," Maggie said, while Jamie continued to write away. "There’s no reason that can’t work. My family would probably do it the same way."

"So, how should we do this legally?" Jamie asked.

"I think we should form a real estate investment trust," Maggie suggested. "Everyone gets an equal share of the proceeds after expenses. Niall would put up the capital, but he wouldn’t get any return on his investment per se — his return would come from his work on the house — the same as the other guys."

"Is that fair to Niall?" Jamie asked. "That’s like providing an interest free loan."

"I think it’s fair," Brendan said. "The cousins are really angry about what they consider his unfair profit. If he doesn’t make any additional money off of his principle I think they’ll be much more amenable to the deal."

"Yeah, I guess I see your point," Jamie said. "Hopefully, Niall won’t squawk about it."

"Would all of you want to be partners, too?" Maggie asked.

"No, no, no, not us," Ryan averred. "We’re not skilled enough to contribute as much as the boys will, and if we go to grad school in a year we won’t want to spend our weekends working that hard. We’ll help, but out of solidarity — not obligation."

"I don’t want to join either," Brendan said. "I don’t need the extra money enough to give up all of my weekends. Rory might want to, but he’s gone half the year, so we have to figure out how to work that out."

"He’s gone half the year, but he’s available nearly full-time when he’s home," Ryan reminded him. "I think he should get a full share if he’s willing to work during the week when he’s home — rather than weekends only."

"Sounds fair to me," Brendan said. "So, now what do we do?"

"I think we have a family meeting — how about next Wednesday?," Ryan suggested. "We can have everyone over for pizza — say seven o’clock?"

"I can make it," Brendan said, and Maggie concurred.

"I’ll start dialing for cousins," Ryan said and picked up the phone to commence.

"Wait, honey," Jamie said, walking over to stop her in mid-dial. "I don’t think we should do that."

"Huh? But I thought you wanted to …"

"Oh, I do. I just don’t think we should be the ones to make the proposal. I mean, the whole point is to have the boys forgive Niall, right? So … let’s have Niall make the offer — over at his house." She was beaming at Ryan, her green eyes dancing with pride at her brilliant idea.

The grin that met her was nearly identical in its intensity. "That is a completely fabulous idea." She handed the phone to Jamie and said, "Call the man and make it happen."

* * * * * * * * * * *