The Moment Part III

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The Wedding Part III

The Moment

"Ryan?" I called tentatively.

It was cold in the corridor outside the ballroom. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as I drew closer. He was only about twenty feet away, his back to me, his shoulders stiff and arms crossed... in front of him, a man with dark hair and blue eyes stood. I knew immediately that it was his father.

It had taken twenty minutes to track them down. I'd been waylaid numerous times by excited guests, happy family members and the like; but when I'd finally realized Ryan definitely wasn't in the ballroom, I'd started asking waiters if they'd seen him leave, and – thank God – one had, and directed me to the nearly empty hall through one of the doors. To my relief, Ryan hadn't gone far. 

When I called him, he turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to expect. With a pang in my heart, I noted his pale skin, the look of weary caution, the ebbing sadness in his dry eyes. My chest squeezed. 

I looked at the man in front of him. So this is Ryan's father

He wasn't what I'd expected - though, again, I didn't know what to expect. He was dressed in a suit. His black hair was streaked with gray. His eyes, paler than Ryan's, were tired and old-looking. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. 

But there was no denying his handsomeness. There was a rugged quality in his unshaven face, the thick lock of hair falling over his brow, the broad shoulders and tall height. There was nothing hesitant, insecure, or unsure in that face- though there was a great deal of sadness... Despite that, anyone could see that this was a strong man, a suave, confident man, someone unused to rejection. I saw in his attitude the same magnetism I saw in Ryan the first time we met. The same pull that had drawn me in so quickly.

I shook my head a little, to clear it. Well, who could blame Diane, I found myself thinking, and then I almost rolled my eyes at myself. Focus. As I looked back up and studied the two men, I realized that although it was easy to see where Ryan got his looks, where he got his charisma and magnetic appeal, that's where the similarities ended. There was nothing familiar between the two, nothing that would tie them together as father and son. As if an ocean separated them... I wondered if they'd ever be able to cross it.

The man, following Ryan's gaze, looked at me and his eyebrows slowly rose. I was gratified to see genuine regret in the man's eyes as they fastened on mine... sadness and carefulness and – surprisingly – approval. 

"Is this her?" He asked Ryan in a deep, quiet voice. Ryan looked back at him, a new guardedness in his expression, before he nodded, once. Then he glanced back at me, extending one of his hands. I walked faster to reach his side and then entwined my fingers in his, squeezing them quickly. He pulled me closer, sliding his arm around my waist. 

"Yes... my wife." His voice sounded slightly hoarse. 

"Of course. It's an honor to meet you..." He paused.

"Maureen." I supplied.

"Maureen." He looked me over once more, and the shade of approval intensified. "I'm Jonathan, Ryan's father... But I expect you already knew that."

"Yes."

"She's beautiful," he said to Ryan and Ryan nodded, tightening his grip, and I sucked in a little breath because it hurt a little.

Jonathan's gaze looked from me to Ryan and then back and then he looked down. "Congratulations are in order, of course. You two make a lovely couple... my son seems to me very lucky to have you as his wife."

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