Once I get that done, I drop the pasta into the water, moving to put the rest of the food together. There's bowls of ricotta and the meat mixture and one of a sauce we've been working on all day. I'm getting everything in place when the doorbell rings.
I wipe my hands, ready to go get it, when E-Z moves from his chair.
"I'll go. My men didn't call me to tell me someone was coming over. Stay here." E-Z says with a concerned look on his face.
"That's probably because it's Killian's father," I respond, watching E-Z turn around slowly, doing a double-take as he struggles for words.
"Why is Ryan O' Leary coming over?" he asks. I almost want to laugh at the look he's giving me. He's looking at me like I've come completely unhinged.
"He's here because I invited him." I'm enjoying how caught off guard he is. He went from relaxed to wholly uncomfortable. He can't seem to wrap his mind around it.
"And why would you do that?" he asks, the confusion evident on his face.
"He called and sounded sad." I shrug. I can tell that it's not enough of an answer because he continues to stare at me as if I've told him that I'm the Easter bunny. His eyes are wild as he scrambles to understand.
"Ryan O' Leary was sad?" he asks incredulously. Heck, I think his voice even squeaks. He looks very uncomfortable with the idea that Ryan might have feelings.
"Yes," I respond, moving towards the door, making sure my hands are clean by wiping them on my apron.
"Stay here," E-Z barks as he straightens his back and goes to answer the door.
"Man, he's a little high strung," I murmur over my shoulder to Mavis, who tries hard to cover her surprised laughter.
Ryan walks in, an air of authority surrounding him. He nods to E-Z but makes a beeline to me.
"Thank you, Belle, for the invite."
He's an older version of Killian and quite handsome. They have the same lines around their eyes and the same piercing stare. If he wasn't actually thankful, I feel it would be missing the softness I see written all over him. It’s not at all. He looks like a man who is sad—exactly what I told E-Z.
"Of course, you're my father-in-law. You don't need an invitation to our home." I tilt my head and watch the surprise flash on his face before a small smile plays on his lips. E-Z is standing behind him, fidgeting awkwardly. He's always so easygoing, but he's wound like a top in Ryan's presence.
"What's all this?" he says, waving his hand at the kitchen. It looks like a hot mess with all the dishes and tools scattered about.
"I'm trying to learn how to make homemade lasagna, but I'm failing. I want to make something that Killian might like for dinner. He says they’ve agreed to let us have dinner and alone time together, but with my luck, that will fall through,” I mutter.
Ryan looks around the kitchen at a few discarded doughs that didn't quite come together before he looks back at me.
"I'll make sure they do," Ryan promises, surprising me.
“You will?”
“Of course. It’s just, why are you making lasagna? My son is Irish, not Italian."
"Pasta is not just for Italians," I laugh.
"Still, I can show you how to make the dish he used to beg for me to make him when he was little."
"I can't imagine Killian begging for anything," I giggle.
"He gets that from me," Ryan says with a crooked smile. "I'm old and find that I would beg to be a part of my son's life these days, however." The grin is quickly replaced with a frown.
I reach over and pat his hand. "What would Killian like?" I'm curious. Mavis said his most requested dish is lasagna, and that's why I chose to make it.
"Irish pasties," he says, grinning at me.
I blink a few times trying to hide my confusion. "That sounds like something served in a strip club," I mumble. Ryan lets out a hearty laugh.
"Sometimes, but I guarantee that Killian will love it if you fix it. I'll show you how." I look at him skeptically as I open a drawer near where I'm working on the counter. I pull out a pink apron with flowers on it. I hand it to him as he slips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves.
"I don't want you to get your suit dirty, but I'm afraid the only aprons I have are covered in flowers."
"You like flowers?" He asks, knowing very well this isn't the type of apron that was here before I moved in.
"I do. I love roses. They are my favorite."
"I'll remember that," he says as he slips on the pink apron. I purse my lips to stifle my laughter. Here this very intimidating, important man is standing in my kitchen, ready to teach me how to make his son's favorite meal. E-Z still looks like he's in absolute shock, unable to take in the sight before him.