It Ends with Us

Part Two

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Chapter Eighteen
“Oh, God. I think I might throw up.”
Ryle puts his thumb under my chin and tilts my face up to his. He grins
at me. “You’ll be fine. Stop freaking out.”
I shake my hands out and bounce up and down inside the elevator. “I
can’t help it,” I say. “Everything you and Allysa have told me about your
mother makes me so nervous.” My eyes widen and I bring my hands up to
my mouth. “Oh, God, Ryle. What if she asks me questions about Jesus? I
don’t go to church. I mean, I read the Bible when I was younger, but I
don’t know answers to any Bible trivia questions.”
He’s really laughing now. He pulls me to him and kisses the side of my
head. “She won’t talk about Jesus. She already loves you, based on what
I’ve told her. All you have to do is be you, Lily.”
I start nodding. “Be me. Okay. I think I can pretend to be me for one
evening. Right?”
The doors open and he walks me out of the elevator, toward Allysa’s
apartment. It’s funny watching him knock, but I guess he technically
doesn’t live here anymore. Over the last few months, he just sort of slowly
began staying with me. All of his clothes are at my apartment. His
toiletries. Last week he even hung that ridiculous blurry photograph of me
up in our bedroom, and it really felt official after that.
“Does she know we live together?” I ask him. “Is she okay with that? I
mean, we aren’t married. She goes to church every Sunday. Oh, no, Ryle!
What if your mother thinks I’m a blasphemous whore?”
Ryle nudges his head toward the apartment door and I spin around to
see his mother standing in the doorway, a layer of shock on her face.
“Mother,” Ryle says. “Meet Lily. My blasphemous whore.”
Oh dear God.
His mother reaches for me and pulls me in for a hug, and her laughter
is everything I need to get me through this moment. “Lily!” she says,
pushing me out to arm’s length so she can get a good look at me.

---

“Sweetie, I don’t think you’re a blasphemous whore. You’re the angel I’ve
been praying would land in Ryle’s lap for the last ten years!”
She ushers us into the apartment. Ryle’s father is the next to greet me
with a hug. “No, definitely not a blasphemous whore,” he says. “Not like
Marshall here, who sank his teeth into my little girl when she was only
seventeen.” He glares back at Marshall, who is sitting on the couch.
Marshall laughs. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Kincaid, because
Allysa was the one who sank her teeth into me first. My teeth were in
another girl who tasted like Cheetos and . . .”
Marshall doubles over when Allysa elbows him in the side.
And just like that, every single fear I had has vanished. They’re perfect.
They’re normal. They say whore and laugh at Marshall’s jokes.
I couldn’t ask for anything better.
Three hours later, I’m lying on Allysa’s bed with her. Their parents
went to bed early, claiming jet lag. Ryle and Marshall are in the living
room, watching sports. I have my hand on Allysa’s stomach, waiting to feel
the baby kick.
“Her feet are right here,” she says, moving my hand over a few inches.
“Give it a few seconds. She’s really active tonight.”
We remain quiet while we both wait for her to kick. When it happens, I
squeal with laughter. “Oh my God! It’s like an alien!”
Allysa holds her hands on her stomach, smiling. “These last two and a
half months are going to be hell,” she says. “I’m so ready to meet her.”
“Me too. I can’t wait to be an aunt.”
“I can’t wait for you and Ryle to have a baby,” she says.
I fall onto my back and put my hands behind my bed. “I don’t know if
he wants any. We’ve never really talked about it.”
“It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want any,” she says. “He will. He didn’t
want a relationship before you. He didn’t want to get married before you,
and I feel a proposal coming on any month now.”
I prop my head up on my hand and face her. “We’ve barely been
together six months. Pretty sure he wants to wait a lot longer than that.”
I don’t push things with Ryle when it comes to speeding things up in
our relationship. Our lives are perfect how they are. We’re too busy for a
wedding anyway, so I don’t mind if he wants to wait a lot longer.
“What about you?” Allysa presses. “Would you say yes if he proposed?”
I laugh. “Are you kidding me? Of course. I’d marry him tonight.”

---

Allysa looks over my shoulder at her bedroom door. She purses her lips
together and tries to hide her smile.
“He’s standing in the doorway, isn’t he?”
She nods.
“He heard me say that, didn’t he?”
She nods again.
I roll onto my back and look at Ryle, propped up against the doorframe
with his arms folded over his chest. I can’t tell what he’s thinking after
hearing that. His expression is tight. His jaw is tight. His eyes are narrowed
in my direction.
“Lily,” he says with stoic composure. “I would marry the hell out of you.”
His words make me smile the most embarrassing, widest smile, so I pull
a pillow over my face. “Why, thank you, Ryle,” I say, my words muffled by
the pillow.
“That’s really sweet,” I hear Allysa say. “My brother is actually sweet.”
The pillow is pulled away from me and Ryle is standing over me,
holding it at his side. “Let’s go.”
My heart begins to beat faster. “Right now?”
He nods. “I took the weekend off because my parents are in town. You
have people who can run your store for you. Let’s go to Vegas and get
married.”
Allysa sits up on the bed. “You can’t do that,” she says. “Lily’s a girl. She
wants a real wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and shit.”
Ryle looks back at me. “Do you want a real wedding with flowers and
bridesmaids and shit?”
I think about it for a second.
“No.”
The three of us are quiet for a moment, and then Allysa starts kicking
her legs up and down on the bed, giddy with excitement. “They’re getting
married!” she yells. She rolls off the bed and rushes toward the living
room. “Marshall, pack our bags! We’re going to Vegas!”
Ryle reaches down and grabs my hand, pulling me to a stand. He’s
smiling, but there’s no way I’m doing this unless I know for sure he wants
it.
“Are you sure about this, Ryle?”
He runs his hands through my hair and pulls my face to his, brushing
his lips against mine. “Naked truth,” he whispers. “I’m so excited to be

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your husband, I could piss my damn pants.”

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