I squint at him. “Did Jase put you up to this? Because it feels like something he would orchestrate.” Jase was always playing peacemaker, even if he was forced into the role against his will. Also, if thiswasJase’s idea, I’ll kill him for blindsiding me.
A groove appears between his eyes, his smile tinged with regret. “Is it so hard to believe that I might want to see you?”
An unfamiliar emotion, something long forgotten and neglected, unfurls in my chest, making my pulse pound and stealing my breath. I find that I can’t respond, if I even knew what to say.
He seems to sense my difficulty and redirects us. “How’s your family?”
“Good, they’re all really good,” I babble, welcoming the subject change. “My parents are enjoying retirement. There are tons of grandkids to keep them busy. Sixteen at last count, and most of my siblings still live nearby. I mean, it’s loud. My ears ring for a week after I visit. My parents call it ‘controlled chaos,’ though I think calling it ‘controlled’ is being generous.” I smile to myself. “I wanted to bring Kendall with me this week, but she was booked on another project and no amount of emotional blackmail could get her to back out.”
He chuckles quietly, and I hesitate for a moment before looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry about your mom.” The words are ten years overdue.
His smile slips, his mouth flattening into a line. He nods once in acknowledgment, though now it’s his turn to be left without words. The silence is heavy.
I surprise myself with what comes out of my mouth next. “I worried about you.”
“It was probably warranted. I wasn’t at my best.” We both know this is an understatement. “Things got…” he falters. “Well. They weren’t great for a while.” He coughs into his fist and glances out at the water, his expression resigned, before eventually turning back to me. “But of course, you knew that.”
Sadly, I did know. I’d watched from afar as he self-destructed, feeling so guilty and helpless I walked around with a perpetual pit in my stomach. And while Ryder certainly seems to have moved beyond that rough patch, I know better than anyone how much of himself he hides from the world, how deep hisemotional well goes. It’s abundantly clear that the loss of his mom is a wound that will never fully heal.
Though he clearly doesn’t want to dwell on it. “How is it, being back?”
“Strange,” I admit, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. “Like I stepped into a time machine.”
“I know the feeling.” I watch his eyes skate over my legs, and it’s not hard to imagine which memories he’s reliving.
“Can I ask you something?” I venture, and he nods his assent. “Why’d you agree to do this?”
His head tips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this whole reunion. Why now?”
He shrugs. “Seafolly needs our help.”
“Oh, come on. You and I both know you could’ve written a fat check and been done with it.”And then I would’ve been off the hook too,I think but don’t say.
He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that I feel like he may not even answer the question. Then: “Maybe I have a soft spot for the place.”
His tone is playful, but I narrow my eyes. There’s something he’s not saying, but he changes the subject before I can pinpoint what it is. “So are you ready for all this?”
“Do I have a choice?” I say dryly. “Anyway, I hardly know what ‘all this’ is. I’ve been so busy prepping forThe Ingenuethat I’m completely out of the loop.”And I desperately wanted to pretend this whole thing wasn’t happening,I think to myself.Denial’s a lovely place to live; I’m truly happy here.
“Really?” he says after a beat, his brow furrowed. “Huh.”
“What does ‘huh’ mean?” I ask uneasily, alarm bells goingoff at the concerned look on his face.Maybe I should’ve spent some time reading that itinerary after all.
“Well, why don’t we just take it one day at a time?” he says brightly, in the kind of deliberately calm, faintly patronizing tone that says,I’m using kid gloves, and my anxiety ratchets up another notch. “Tomorrow is the press conference,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Done a million of those,” I tell him, waving a hand dismissively.Next.
He pauses. “In front of an auditorium full of fans?”
“Wait, what?” I say, sitting up ramrod straight. “I was told it was a roundtable interview.”
Fans?!Ryder and I, under a microscope, in a room full of diehard Letterheads?Shitshit shit. Now I know why Joanne was trying to pin me down last week; I chose the wrong time to put off calling her back. And to think I was going to walk in there tomorrow completely clueless.
“It started off that way, but there was so much interest that they decided to open it up to the public and donate the proceeds from ticket sales to the Seafolly Fund.”
“Well, they sure thought of everything, didn’t they?” I gripe bitterly. It’s a selfish reaction, and I’m not proud of it, especially since I reallydowant to help the residents of Seafolly get back on their feet. But we’re literally feeding ourselves to the wolves here, and I tell him so.
