Ryland was swiping through a catalog of available coffins to bury Felicia in with a detached expression and a body full of tension. I hated this for him. Couldn’t imagine how on earth I would navigate such a task.
Not only was he having to navigate the task of handling a funeral for the woman who gave him life but refused to nurture him, but also acknowledging that he had unresolved emotions that would never get addressed because she was gone. Felicia would never get to explain why she didn’t love her children enough or that she possibly loved them the only way she knew how, by allowing someone else to give them what she couldn’t.
Seeing Ryland in this position broke my heart because this man was physically stronger than anyone I knew but physicalstrength could not compete with debilitating emotional scars. Ryland’s hand tightened on the tablet seconds before he tossed it on the funeral director’s desk. He brushed a hand over his head and yanked it down his face.
“I can’t do this shit,”he signed and slouched deeper in the chair.
“What do you need?”I locked eyes with him, waiting.
“For all this shit to be figured out so I can move on.”His anger came through in his hand motions. I nodded, leaned forward to grab the tablet he just discarded, and swiped the screen, scanning the incredibly high priced coffins. They were all overpriced. There was no doubt that everything presented to Ryland today was premium.
He was a pro athlete who had more than enough money to pay for an elaborate funeral. The director treated us like celebrities. Dexter Green, the Director of Green and Family Funeral Home, rolled out the red carpet treatment from the time we walked through the door.
The only reason he didn’t currently have his head up Ryland’s ass while making promises about how he planned on providing a thoughtful and elite service for Ryland’s mother was because I asked him to give us a minute to take a look at the service packages in private.
When Ryland interpreted for me, Dexter gave me the most hateful stare, possibly fearful that I would sway Ryland from deciding on one of the premium packages he not so discreetly kept motioning to on the tablet. A tablet he handed over to Ryland before his ass even hit the chair in front of Dexter’s desk.
The man had a job to do, which I understood, and while his intent was to make this process as painless as possible, his goal was also to line his pockets.
Not that I felt that Ryland cared. He had the money, and although he was conflicted about spending it on a funeral for thewoman who abandoned him, money was not the issue. I wanted to help in any way I could because he was struggling.
“Let me help. You’re going to get another migraine.”
“If you’re going to put your hands on me again that will damn sure be better than this.”His eyes moved to the tablet and I ignored his comment and decided to take the stressor away. He could definitely get my hands on him, but I didn’t want it to be for migraine relief.
With the tablet in hand, I moved through the offered packages that had everything wrapped in one—flowers, casket and service—and selected what I thought was tasteful and simple.
I placed the tablet on my knees and motioned to it.“This one is nice and for what it is, nice is probably not the best word but I feel like it’s a good choice.”
His eyes lowered to the tablet. With a stiff nod, his hands were moving.“Yeah, we can do that.”
We…
He used it so freely the reference made my heart feel full. No matter how I attempted to detach from the situation so as to not overstep, Ryland connected me to him with those two letters. I decided not to fight it, however, I did not read too deeply into it, but my body was attached to the idea of Ryland and me being a "we".
Dexter joined us a few minutes later and all the details were finalized. Private ceremony with just us and Ryland’s parents held graveside. Ryland declined to have a viewing and service. The funeral was scheduled for tomorrow morning since we were only here for the weekend.
Ryland agreed to allow Rylee to spend the weekend with Areena, but only because I convinced him that a funeral wasn’t the best place for Rylee. He also wasn’t sure how things would gowith their father and didn’t want Rylee anywhere near him until he had a clear idea of whether or not he would pursue custody.
There was a chance he would fight Ryland’s petition to become Rylee’s legal guardian, but considering their father’s name was on both of their birth certificates yet he wasn’t present in either of their lives, there was hope that he wouldn’t.
Once everything was finalized, we left and were met in the lobby by Des and Rich, Ryland’s security, and escorted to the SUV they were chauffeuring us around in while we were in the city. We also elected to stay at my house instead of a hotel to minimize drawing attention.
When I asked why he brought security, Ryland let me know that was all Sovoya’s call. This visit was different. He had no idea how things would go with his father and the announcement for his mother’s funeral would be made public, which meant the potential for the media to invade this private family moment. Lord knows they didn’t give two shits about privacy.
Like it or not, Ryland was a human commodity and a business. There were millions attached to his name and ability to play football. Yet another reality check. Des and Rich were who he typically kept on his payroll on the rare occasion that he needed security but Ryland also noted that he wanted to have someone on his team who was fluent in ASL for when Rylee and I would be out without him.
He was so intentional with every decision concerning us, which I loved. His protective nature was always present but also subtle enough to not feel suffocating.
We made the drive to my house, and as if there needed to be one more thing to worry about, the universe decided to open the floodgates. My mother’s car was parked in my driveway. I was dreading the inevitable but there was no way of avoiding the conversation I didn’t want to have. Especially not with Rylandhere. I had no idea how he would feel about any of this, but it was happening.
“Whose car?”he signed with a frown as soon as our SUV pulled into the spot beside it. Based on the tracks in the snow, it was evident she had just recently arrived.
“My mom.”
“You want me to meet your mom?”He smirked, arching a brow, and I shook my head.
“So she can pick apart everything we’re doing and tell me all the reasons why being with you is a horrible idea? No. Hard pass.”