Sweet Sinful Nights

Shannon furrowed her brow. “You never told me before.”

“I did try to tell you at the time, sweetheart. But you didn’t want to hear a word of it. You weren’t interested in any news about Brent, so I let it go. The ring doesn’t fit me anymore, but he came by and dropped it off himself shortly after you split.”

A strange sense of shock raced through her system as she flashed back in time. She remembered tossing the ring at Brent the day she’d walked out. She recalled too the red-hot rage, coupled with the soul-ripping sadness that her one true love had chosen something other than her. The days after the break-up were an agonizing blur of tears and investments in boxes of tissues, of anger and impromptu sessions using her couch pillows as punching bags. The weeks that followed were worse, the missing intensifying, the emptiness deepening, and they’d made her wish she had answered his calls earlier because his calls had stopped.

Shannon vacuumed up those memories. She knew her grandmother had the wedding band again, but she’d never stopped to find out how it came back to her. She’d always figured it had arrived by mail, never by personal courier in the form of Brent Nichols.

“He called me in advance. Made sure I was here. Said he wanted to return it to its rightful owner,” Victoria continued, as she poured herself a glass of water.

“He came to see you at your house?” she asked, processing this news for the first time.

“He did. Pulled up on his bike and came inside. I offered him some tea, and sat with him for a few minutes. Russ was at work, so it was just your boy and me. He said he didn’t want to risk putting the ring in the mail, or FedEx, or any of those services,” she said, and this little detail somehow worked its way into Shannon’s heart, chipping away at the tiniest piece of ice that had coated that organ to protect her from Brent.

“That’s actually really thoughtful,” she said softly.

“He asked about you. He wanted to know if you were okay. How you were doing.”

Her heart beat faster. She wanted to grab it and tell it to settle down. “He did?”

“I knew you’d split up, and you were busy working on West Side Story, but I think he was just trying to find out how you were,” her grandmother said, stopping to take a drink of water.

That lump in Shannon’s throat resurfaced, and tears threatened her eyes. She blinked, holding them in. What was wrong with her today? She needed to get a grip. That was ten years past, and this was now, and she was seeing the man tonight. She hadn’t told a soul about her plans for the evening.

“I’m seeing Brent tonight,” she blurted out, desperate to tell someone she could trust.

“You are? About the business deal? Or maybe about more,” her grandma said in a sly tone.

Shannon went with it, turning the moment playful. “Maybe more. We’ll see.”

“Some things are worth second chances.” Then her voice turned cold, as she held up a finger. “Other things—one must never grant a second chance.”

“I know, Nana. I know.”

Then the softness returned. “For what it’s worth, I always liked him,” her grandmother said.

“Liked who, Nana?” asked one of her brothers.

Shannon straightened her spine. Shit. Michael had just sauntered into the room with the toolbox, heading to the garage.

“Liked you, my love,” she said patting her eldest grandson on the cheek. “I’ve always liked you.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Hmmm. Doubtful,” he said skeptically, but continued into the garage.

Once he was out of sight, her grandma hugged her. “Some secrets are just between us girls.”

“Girl power,” she whispered, as her grandmother winked in response, then headed to her room to change out of her yoga clothes. Shannon turned the other direction to hang with her brothers in the backyard, passing Colin and her grandfather on their way into the house.

“Just going to make some more marinade,” Colin said. “My marinade rocks.”

“It’s not better than mine. We might need to have a taste test contest,” her grandfather chimed in, and Shannon smiled at their competitive ways, then joined Ryan by the grill. He pressed a spatula on top of a burger.

“Are you going to bring one home to Johnny Cash?” she said, asking about his dog.

“Of course. Nothing but the best for man’s best friend,” he said.

Like all her brothers, Ryan towered over her, but she was used to being surrounded by those sturdy men. Ryan’s brown hair looked lighter in the noonday sun, as if several strands were streaked with gold.

He flipped a burger. “You gonna eat today, Shannon bean?”