Ryan

"I certainly do not understand why you can't bring her over," my mother said over the phone. "I would very much like to meet her. I must say, I haven't had the chance to speak with her on the few occasions I've seen her in the past."

I sighed, checking the rearview mirror. My son's head bobbed up and down as he headed towards the car, his backpack almost dragging on the snow.

"Mum, we've been on a few dates," I said. "There's no reason to bring her over to my mother's place."

"Of course there is," my mother's voice said through the car's speaker. "I'm your mother. I must see if she's a good fit for you and Jeremy."

My temper flared. "I'm thirty four, Mum. It's a bit too late to play mother now."

I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips. My mother was quiet. I rubbed my face and sighed. "Anyway, I can do that just fine on my own. I know what Jeremy and I need."

"Yes, look how the last one turned out," my mum said.

Jeremy opened the door, hopefully he hadn't heard his grandmother's words just then. The boy grinned.

"Mum, I gotta go. I just picked up Jeremy from school," I said. "I'll see you later."

"Oh, Jeremy! Darling, can you hear me?"

Jeremy exchanged a few words with his grandmother. She was extremely fond of Jeremy, and fortunately did not display any of the usual criticism she doted on me.

After they said goodbye, I ended the call and drove on.

"Are you going on another date?" Jeremy asked. I almost stepped on the brakes. I glanced at my son in the rearview mirror.

"Who told you about my dates?"

"I heard Grandmama speaking with one of her friends the other day," Jeremy replied.

"Eavesdropping is not good," I said on autopilot.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Jeremy said with an exasperated tone he learned from Lia. "I just happened to be in the room while she was speaking on the phone."

I chuckled. Smartass. "Right."

"So when are you going on another date?"

"Son, my dating life is none of your business."

"It's none of Grandmama's business either," Jeremy said. "But she gets to badger you with questions and I can't?"

I shook my head. I did not know how I was going to deal with a teenage Jeremy. At six years old, he already managed to give me a few gray hairs.

"You can't," I said.

"Why?"

"Because I said so," I said. "All I'm going to tell you is that the woman is just a friend." Though I doubted Barbara considered me a friend. "We're simply having a few meals together. Nothing else is going on. I'm not really dating her. But don't tell your grandmama that."

"Is her name really the Ice Queen?" Jeremy asked, "like, is she actually a queen or something?"

I made a face. I couldn't believe even my mother called her that. "No. It's just a silly nickname."

"Why do they call her that?"

"Because... she doesn't smile much."

"Oh." I could see Jeremy frowning at the window. If I didn't divert his attention soon, the kid was going to get into a spiral of questions about Barbara that I wasn't sure I could answer.

"So I thought about the pet idea."

Jeremy leaned forward as much as his seatbelt allowed. His excitement electrified the air. "And? May I get one? May I?"

"Yes. BUT," I hurried when the boy whooped, "you're going to have to do some research about where we can adopt one. You'll have to think if you want a cat or a dog. And we won't get it until winter break. Deal?"

"Okay! Deal!" Jeremy said. "Lia is going to want to spend the nights in our place once we get a pet."

"Why doesn't she get a pet?" I asked.

"Lia and aunt Jenny are both allergic to cats."

"Why not get a dog?"

"Because she wants a cat," Jeremy said.

"But she's allergic to cats."

"Just because she's allergic to cats doesn't mean she can't want a cat, Dad," Jeremy said. I glanced at the mirror to see him rolling his eyes.

I grinned. "Alright, smarty pants."

We were a few minutes away from home when Jeremy asked, in a quiet voice, "did she call?"

The question was a serrated knife into my heart. I wanted to lie, but I couldn't tell the boy that his mother called when she hadn't.

The main reason why I had come back to the U.S. was because Jeremy's mother had been clean for six months now.

She'd been in and out of rehab ever since our divorce. I had paid all the bills without a single complaint. I might not love Miranda, but she was still my son's mother. I would do anything in my power so she could get her life together. The problem was that she didn't.

"No," I said. "Why don't we call her when we get home?"

"Whatever," he mumbled.

"We will," I said firmly.

I wanted to tell him that maybe he could spend the night with his mother this weekend, but I didn't want to get his hopes up only to be crushed again. His small heart had already been crushed enough.

I made sure that Jeremy and his mother had a phone call at least once a week. When they were in England, I either flew her over, or I took Jeremy to see her, every month.

I had done my best, but it was difficult to keep the boy from being disappointed in his mother when she wasn't willing to put in some effort.

She hadn't called even once since we came to the U.S. It was me who made the call. It was as if she was afraid that now that we were here, she would have to take a hand in raising Jeremy. She wasn't yet ready to leave the glitz and glam of a celebrity life behind.

Miranda was testing the last drop of my considerable reserve of patience.

*** ***

Weeks went by, and dates along with them.

I had not thought of a time limit when I'd first made this proposal to Barbara, and now I was glad that I hadn't. It would have been a shame to stop our lunch dates simply because we'd agreed on a certain number. She was such an interesting person.

She did not reveal anything about her personal life, though, her likes or dislikes. At least, not directly. But I had eyes. I saw the pet hairs on her coat, noticed how slowly she blinked when she was irritated, and how she tugged on the cuff of her sleeve when she was uncomfortable.

It was kind of frustrating, how protective she was of giving pieces of herself. I did not want to know her deepest, darkest secrets, I was simply curious about the person I had lunch with.

I didn't make the mistake of thinking to know her. What she let the world see was the tip of an iceberg, if it was even real. What I did know was that she wasn't the cold, detached robot her image portrayed her to be.

My conclusions were confirmed on a sunday morning.

I had gone on a long run with Jordan. My frustration with Miranda had reached a peak point. The woman finally received our calls a couple of weeks back. She promised to visit very soon. Then we hadn't heard from her after that.

Jeremy hid his disappointment very well. Too well. I wished the boy would throw a tantrum, but he simply accepted the fact that his mother did not care much about him.

The snow was not as heavy the last few days, and it felt nice to move in the cold. We decided to have breakfast before heading home, so I took Jordan to the café I'd gotten used to the last few weeks.

Barbara and I had gone to other places, but mostly we ate lunch in the café that she'd first recommended. It was quiet, clean and served good quality food.

As usual, only a few tables were occupied. Including mine and Barbara's usual booth. A couple sat in one side, across from them was a person wearing a dark gray hoodie. I narrowed my eyes. I recognized that tense set of shoulders very well by now.

My feet carried me to the booth. As I approached, I noticed the giant dog laying by their feet.

"Barbara?" I asked while walking closer.

The hooded person turned around, and Barbara's face peeked through the hoodie, her cerulean eyes bright. She froze, glancing behind me at Jordan.

"Ryan."

As soon as I stood near their table, the dog lifted his head and growled.

I froze. I was a big man, but that dog was massive and its teeth looked pretty damn sharp. The scar over a missing eye only lent to its fierceness.

"Pirate, down," Barbara said in her cool, collected tone. The dog went down, its head on its paws, looking up at Barbara with big, adoring eyes.

"Does he bite?" Jordan asked.

"No," Barbara replied, standing up.

"He just doesn't like men," the woman sitting across from Barbara said, then pointed at the bearded, scowling man next to her, "with the exception of John. He's used to him."

Barbara shook my hand and Jordan's.

"Mr. Ling," she nodded. I stifled a smile. She looked so adorable all tucked in a big hoodie while being business like.

"This is my sister, Eleanor and her fiancé, John," she said, introducing the couple. I greeted them, curious about her sister.

She was blonde, pale with freckles. Her hair was pin straight and her eyes a hazel green. I looked for any physical similarities between her and Barbara, but I came up with nothing. Barbara's skin was a light brown, her eyes were a clear blue, her hair caramel-colored waves. They looked nothing alike.

"Oh!" Eleanor said, shaking my hand vigorously. "You're- um-" She glanced at Barbara and offered a cheeky smile. "Mr. Davies, I finally got to meet you."

I raised my brows. Eleanor continued, "why don't you join us? There's more than enough room and we just placed our order."

I glanced at Jordan, who nodded. "If you don't mind then, Barbara."

She blinked, slowly. "Of course not." Then sent a look to her sister.

She really didn't want me around her sister. But I was not deterred.

Jordan and I squeezed in the booth while Barbara dragged a chair because she wanted to be near the dog, Pirate.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," I told Eleanor. "I was curious about Barbara's sister ever since she mentioned you."

"She mentioned me?" Eleanor asked, her eyes dancing with an inner light that brought a smile to my face. "Only good things, I hope."

The man beside Eleanor was a big, bearded man with tattoos peeking from the collar of his sweatshirt. He was so different from his delicate, cheerful fiancé, yet they fit like pieces of a puzzle.

Jordan and I made our orders. Eleanor carried on the conversation almost single-handedly. It was difficult to be awkward around her. She was a graphic designer, and hit it off straight away with Jordan, seeing as his Jenny, a painter by vocation, recently developed an interest in pop art.

The food arrived and we ate. I glanced at Barbara. She wasn't exactly out of the conversation loop, Eleanor made that impossible, she involved everyone. But she felt... apart.

When the three others were deep into a discussion, I lowered my voice and leaned closer to Barbara. She stiffened.

"I'm sorry. We crashed your breakfast."

She tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie and shook her head. "That's alright." She lifted her eyes to Eleanor. "She seems to like you guys. That's all what matters."

I leaned back. A movement by our feet caught my eyes. The dog was munching on a strip of bacon. As I watched, Barbara sneaked another strip to the dog without anyone noticing. I finished my breakfast.

Yes. There was certainly more to Barbara than the cold, detached exterior.

***

"It was great meeting you all," Eleanor said, shaking mine and Jordan's hands. Jordan liked the girl, they'd even exchanged phone numbers with the promise to meet up later with his wife.

Eleanor crouched and roughly rubbed the dog's neck, then she waved at Barbara with both hands and left with her fiancé.

She did not touch her sister once.

Jordan slapped my back. "I'll go ahead of you, Ryan. Nice seeing you again, Miss Owens."

"Likewise."

Jordan left, giving me a cheeky smile out of Barbara's sight. Asshole. He would enjoy teasing me later. I wondered if the guy would ever grow up. But I would have done the same if our roles were reversed. I guess we both had some growing up to do.

"Your dog?" I asked when Jordan left.

Barbara looked down at the big mutt sitting by her feet. She hesitated a second before nodding. "Yes."

Goodness, it was like pulling teeth. "Where's your car?"

"I parked it there," she pointed to a park a couple of streets over.

"I'll walk you there," I said, walking ahead.

"You don't have to," she said.

I looked over my shoulder when she stayed put. "Come on, I'll walk you."

She glanced at her dog and caught up with me.

She was wearing a padded blue jacket over her hoodie and sweatpants. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun over her head under the hoodie. I didn't know why, but I found her extremely adorable. Maybe because she was always so put together and professional, seeing her like this was kind of intimate.

"His name is Pirate?" I asked, glancing at the one-eyed dog. It was one of the biggest dogs I'd ever seen.

"Yes."

"Who named him?"

She stayed quiet, hesitating. I sighed. I kept my silence until we reached the empty park. But my frustration was building over. From Miranda, Jeremy, my mother, and now Barbara.

Snow had covered everything in sight while we were eating. Even now, small flakes floated to the ground. There were no people around. The world was white and cold. We walked on the sidewalk side by side.

"Why do you do that?" I asked.

"Do what?"

I stopped walking and faced her. "You don't give anything about yourself," I said, "getting anything remotely personal about you is like pulling teeth."

"Why do you want to know about my personal life?"

"Because I'm curious about the kind of person you are," I said. "We've had lunch together more than half a dozen times already and I don't even know your favorite food. You're always careful not to order the same dish twice, always go for generic menus."

"Maybe I don't have a preference," she said evenly.

"Right," I drawled out. "What about your favorite color?"

"I don't know yours," she shot back.

"It's blue," I said, "see, that wasn't difficult. What's yours?"

She snapped her mouth shut, her entire body went stiff. I rubbed the back of my neck. "I apologize if I come across as aggressive. I just... I just want to know why? What are you so afraid of?"

She stared at me. And this time it wasn't a blank stare. No, there was temper behind her gaze, behind the harsh rise and fall of her chest. Yet she stayed quiet.

I waited, urging her to push through and snap at me. Yet she stayed quiet. I sighed. "Never mind. Let's go."

I walked ahead, only getting two steps in before she spoke.

"Because you never know what people might do with that information," she said.

I whirled around. Standing there against the white snow, she truly looked like an Ice Queen. One with fire in her eyes. It was the closest she ever looked to showing emotion. There was a small line between her eyebrows and a tick in her jaw.

"You can't live like that," I said softly. "Keeping yourself locked up because you're afraid of what others might do? Relationships are a leap of faith.

"We never really know what others are thinking. But if you guard yourself against being hurt that way, do you really call it living?" I shook my head. "I didn't take you for a coward."

I knew I'd gone too far. Barbara's face snapped shut again. She held herself straight and blinked slowly.

"Thank you for your company," she said. "Have a nice day."

She walked past me. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find the right words. So I simply stared as she walked with her giant dog to her car, alone and proud.