“Scarlett, seriously? You just left without telling me?” Ryder said, slightly out of breath as he jogged up to me. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, but I can’t be in there another minute.”
His face creased in confusion. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” I lied, not wanting to give Celeste an ounce more of my attention. I refused to let her hijack our night. “I told you, I don’t feel well. I have a pounding headache and I’m nauseous from the flight. I did what you asked, Ry. I met your friends, I played along for one drink, and now I need to lie down.”
He stared at me, brow furrowed, like he wasn’t buying it, like he knew I was hiding something.He can read your expressions,I reminded myself.Your acting doesn’t work on him.
“I’m not trying to make you leave,” I forced myself to say, the lie chafing my throat. “Why don’t I go back to the hotel and rest, and you can come back when you’re done here.”
I regretted the words before they’d even left my mouth. Iwas playing a dangerous game, testing him like this, and the risk far outweighed the reward. If he let me leave, it would break me, and I wasn’t sure we’d recover.
“Of course I’m not staying here without you,” he said, looking offended by the suggestion. For the first time since I got here, I felt the coil of anxiety in my stomach loosen, unraveling like a tangled chain slipping free from a knot.
He folded me into his chest, wrapping me in a tight embrace, his hands threading in my hair, and I melted into him, tears pricking at the back of my eyelids. I hooked my arms around his shoulders and clung to him, burrowing into his warmth and blocking out everything but him: the thump of music spilling from the bar, the bodies jostling past us on the crowded sidewalk, the cars whizzing by in a blur of noise and light. I breathed him in and let myself believe everything was going to be okay.
When I finally drew back, Ryder pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the car.”
“He’s got his own driver. So fancy,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood, though the joke didn’t quite land.
He held me tight against him until the car pulled up, and we were both subdued on the drive back to the hotel. I knew whyIwas quiet, but his silence was a question mark. Was he mad at me for making him leave? Did things feel as off to him as they did to me? I wanted to ask about his mom, but I’d made a decision not to bring up her treatments too frequently, since the news was never good and the topic only upset him. The silence in the car was thick, though my thoughts were swirling. I hated how awkward everything felt. This wasn’t the reunion I’d imagined, not even close.
This is just part of dating long distance,I reminded myself.We’re out of sync, that’s all. You need to give yourselves time to recalibrate.
I gripped my purse tightly in my lap, trying to shake off the pessimism hanging over me like a thundercloud. Even if this wasn’t quite the baby reveal I’d hoped for, we were finally together, what I’d been dreaming of for weeks. I wanted to focus on him, onus, on the earth-shattering news that was about to change both our lives. I wanted to recapture the closeness we’d had back in Seafolly.
But closeness was not to be.
We entered the hotel room, and as soon as Ryder set my suitcase on a luggage rack, he made a beeline to the bar, pouring himself two fingers of whiskey.
My stomach sank. His eyes were already glazed, his laughter too loud back at the bar. The last thing he needed was more alcohol.
“Do you think we could skip the whiskey?” I asked lightly, aiming for casual. I didn’t want to put him on the defensive.
He turned slowly, the glass frozen halfway to his lips. “Why?”
I hesitated, biting my lip, trying to figure out how to approach this without derailing the night. “It’s just us, I figured you might want to slow down a bit,” I finally said, choosing my words carefully. “Unless I’m driving you to drink,” I teased, hoping a joke might take some of the sting out.
It didn’t. “Are youtrackingmy drinking now?” The shine in his eyes sharpened, his features shifting into something unreadable.
“No, I just…”Want you to sober up so I can tell you something important.I closed my eyes and exhaled, finally facingthe reality that had been staring me in the face: This conversation was not going to happen tonight. I wanted this to be a positive memory, a productive conversation, and right now, I was destined for disappointment. I’d have to try again tomorrow morning when he was sober and I didn’t feel like I’d been hit by a truck.
“Forget it. Do what you want. I’m getting into bed,” I told him, already unzipping my suitcase and pulling out a pair of pajama pants.Maybe he’d take the hint and come scratch my head.
I heard the clink of ice against glass as Ryder set his drink down on the bar, then the soft tug of fabric as he pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed. “You know what gets rid of headaches?” he drawled, his voice slurred and suggestive as he came up behind me. He smoothed a palm down my spine, around the curve of my waist, coasting over my backside as I changed my pants. He dipped his head and dragged a line of slow, wet kisses along the back of my neck, and when he reached my ear, he nipped it with his teeth. “I’ve missed you,” he rumbled.
I’d never been less in the mood to deal with a drunk, handsy Ryder. This wasn’t like my birthday, when we’d been equally tipsy and desperate for any excuse to touch each other. Now I felt about as horny as a houseplant. “Not tonight, babe. I need a raincheck,” I demurred, pulling away.
“Come on, I haven’t seen you in over a month,” he murmured in my ear, nuzzling his nose into my neck. “God, you smell good.”
All I could smell was the whiskey on his breath, and it hung in the air between us, stirring something sour in my stomach.I turned around, pulling his hands off me and placing them back at his sides. “Ryder, I saidno.” It came out a little sharper than I’d intended.
He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. “Wow,” he said flatly, backing up a step. “I can’t do anything right, can I?” He shook his head, then stalked back to the bar and downed his entire drink in one swallow, holding eye contact with me over the rim of his glass the entire time. It was a giantFuck you.
Something about the spitefulness of it flipped a switch inside me. I’d spent the whole night accommodating him, burying my own needs and tiptoeing around landmines, but now I was stepping straight into the blast zone. “So you’re going topunishme because I don’t feel well?”
“Oh no, don’t worry,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I won’t try to touch you again. Message received, loud and clear.”
