Two Weeks in Paradise

Two Weeks in Paradise A.D. ELLIS Contents 1. Richard Reginald “Reggie” Ward 2. Ben Stephens 3. Reggie 4. Ben 5. Reggie 6. Ben 7. Reggie 8. Ben 9. Reggie 10. Ben 11. Reggie 12. Ben 13. Reggie Epilogue Also by A.D. Ellis About the Author Connect with A.D. Ellis Acknowledgments ONE Richard Reginald “Reggie” Ward “I just want to make sure you’re one thousand percent certain this is what you want,” the quiet, gruff voice said from behind the partition in whatever airport terminal gate we’d ended up for a hellacious unexpected layover before the second flight of the day. Oh. No. He. Didn’t. Ben Stephens may have been the perfect mix of gruff lumberjack and sexy dad bod, and I could admit he was a damn fine carpenter, but the man was not going to make his daughter question her marriage to my son. Hell, no. We were on the way to their small, private tropical destination wedding—if the damn weather would ever stop messing with our flights—and there was no way I was going to stand by and let Mr. Dull and Uncultured attempt to talk Megan out of marrying Jason. “Dad, we’ve gone over this a million times,” Megan answered brightly with patience I definitely wouldn’t have had. “Jason is amazing. He’s smart, successful, and, most importantly, he treats me well. We’ve been together three years and never once have I come home heartbroken over something he’s said or done—unlike the other trash I dated way back when.” “I just worry he’s not enough—” The words a fire poker jabbing at my anger. “Careful, Dad, your Lariah is showing,” Megan warned. Ben huffed a frustrated laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I trust your judgement.” Had I not been snugged into a hidden corner on the other side of the partition trying to rest as we waited for our plane to board—several hours late, let me point out—I knew I would have seen the signature Ben Stephens grumpy face. Worry line between unfairly perfect brown eyebrows, thin lips set firm, the beginning of crow’s feet around his hazel eyes. He’d run a hand over his face and his features would soften as they always did when he and Megan were together. Living in the same town, having children of the same age dating, it wasn’t like I didn’t see Ben around. I didn’t know him well—and had no desire to—beyond knowing he owned a very successful carpentry business in town, his wife had died a while back, and he seemed perpetually grumpy outside of his time with his daughter. He was also the aforementioned dull and uncultured, but that was a judgement coming from my theater bitch side and maybe not completely fair. However, if he was going to judge my son, my theater bitch could have her way with him. Jason was an amazing kid. At twenty-four, he had a solid, well-paying job as a yoga instructor. Adopted at age three, Jason had quickly become Papa’s Boy and joined my late husband, Scott, in our home gym almost daily. Jason and Scott had a connection through their physical fitness while I’d bonded with my son over his love of graphic novels, comedies, and shoes. While theater was in my blood and it stung a bit that Jason never quite glommed onto it the way I’d hoped he would, I cherished the connection we had over his other loves. I knew Jason still missed Scott—we all did, he was an amazing man and father, and some days the pain of that loss a decade ago was as fresh and raw as the day we said goodbye to him—I also knew my son’s determination to make his yoga business a success was a direct homage to his papa. Megan said something I couldn’t quite catch and Ben chuckled. That girl was a ray of sunshine, always bringing up the mood and making people feel like they made her day just by being around. I’d never known her mother, Lariah, but I’d caught on that Megan was her dad through-and-through—and that we should all be grateful she wasn’t anything like her mother. That fact, and knowing Ben even the little bit that I did, made me wonder just what Lariah had been like. And how Ben had ended up with her. But those were questions I’d likely never ask because Ben and I were not friends and I didn’t expect that fact to change in as little as two weeks. I’d moved to the small town we all now lived in just before Ben’s wife got sick. Megan and Jason had known each other from college and loved the fact we all lived near each other. Despite living in a slightly upsized Mayberry, Ben and I didn’t run in the same circles, so I’d never really gotten to know him except through what Jason and Megan said. And really, there was no reason to know the man. I was deeply involved in the theater community in the much larger next-town-over and Ben had a business to run. I was a gay widower and Ben was a married man with a wife the whole town whispered about. Our only real connection was our kids, but even that had never really brought us together. When Lariah passed away, I wondered at how Megan and Ben handled it, but asking my son’s girlfriend about her dead mother didn’t seem like appropriate let’s-meet-up-for-dinner conversation. Megan didn’t talk about her mom and there appeared to have been no love lost between them. “Why are you hiding in the corner?” Jason asked, his eyes bright and excited despite the fact we were all exhausted and the trip had barely even begun. Scrambling to my feet, I hoped to avoid Ben and Megan realizing I’d heard their conversation. No such luck. Both of them rounded the partition, honing in on me. Megan’s eyes went wide and she tucked her arm into Jason’s. “Dad and I were just