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“I don't care, Mom!” I interrupt, irritated that she's still on that. “There's nothing wrong with Ryan! Not her age, her tattoos, or her personality.” I take a deep breath to calm my anger. “She is amazing, and there's a lot you don't know about her because I haven't told you. There's no way for me to explain how beautiful a person Ryan is without telling you everything about her, but I shouldn't have to do that. I asked you not to judge, Mom. I asked you to ignore what you saw and get to know her. You went into that dinner with the intentions to grill her until you found a reason to doubt me. And now, she doesn't want me near her.
“I love you, Mom, but you have to stop. You care and want to protect me, and I get that. But I learned from my mistakes, and I'm twenty-five! I can take care of myself. You can't ruin my relationship just because you have this absurd idea that Ryan isn't a good person. I'm in a relationship with her, not you! An open mind, so you could get to know her is all I asked for, Mom. Instead, you completely overstepped, jumped to conclusions, and didn't treat Ryan anywhere near to how she deserved to be treated.”
“Gabriel,” my father says from behind me, interrupting my rant.
With another deep breath, I try to tone down my words one last time. “Ryan isn't like anyone I've ever dated before. You should have trusted my judgment. Even if you didn't, you still shouldn't have said those things because now, I have to go fix what you've broken.”
Turning around, I brush past my
father and leave before anything else could be said. I'm not in the mood to be around everyone any longer or hear an apology from Mom. What I really want is to go check on Ryan, but I go on to my house. She probably needs more time to cool down, and I most definitely do not want to interrupt and cause her to need even more time. When I get home, I shower and then lay down on the couch to watch TV.
I do call Ryan twice. She doesn't answer, so I leave a simple voicemail, asking her to call me back. She doesn't. Just in case she calls at a late hour, deciding she does want to talk, I try to stay up. My eyes start to get heavy during a late night talk show, and before long, I drift to sleep.
* * *
My phone blares loudly as my eyes squint open. A pain shoots through my neck thanks to falling asleep on the couch. I sit up, look around for my phone, and find it on the floor under the coffee table. It must have fallen while I was sleeping. My hope is that it's Ryan, but one look at the unfamiliar number diminishes my hopes.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Gabe? It's Vivian. Is Ryan with you?” She sounds a bit panicked, which immediately brings me to attention.
“No, she isn't. She's not with you?” I'm positive she told me that they were going shopping today.
“No. I just got to her apartment to check on her because she cancelled on me yesterday and her phone keeps going to voicemail. She's not here, and I wondered if she might be with you. Oh, God!” She screams.
“What is it?” My body tenses waiting to hear what's going on.
“There's broken glass all over the kitchen floor! What-”
“Ryan did that yesterday while I was there. It wasn't a good day,” I sigh, remembering it all. “You don't know where she might have gone?”
“No. She's never disappeared before.”
“I'm sure she's fine, but I'll try to get up with her, okay?”
That soothes her as she demands I call her the moment I hear from Ryan. As I get dressed, I wonder where Ryan is. She didn't clean up, like she told me she needed to do. Instead, she left. Where would she have gone? I'm not sure what I should do, so I drive around, looking for her car, and feeling a bit on the stalker-ish side. But then I spot it in the parking lot of the art museum. It's kind of hard to miss because there aren't many cars there in the first place.
She was fascinated with the fire painting, and I bet that's where she is. That's my first stop. Sure enough, she's standing before the wall, staring at the flames. Quietly, I walk up behind her and clear my throat.
Ryan glances back, her eyes watery before they harden at the sight of me. She faces the painting again and in a harsh whisper, she tells me, “Go away.”
“Ryan,” I try. It kills me that she won't even look at me. I reach out, my fingers brushing her hips to bring her closer to me. The need to touch her and feel her is overwhelming now that she's right here. As soon as the tips of my fingers are on her, Ryan steps away to be out of my reach. The message is clear. She doesn't want me here with her. “I'm sorry. I should have-”
“It doesn't matter,” she interrupts. “I don't want to hear whatever you have to say. Leave me alone, Gabe.” With that last sentence, she doesn't sound angry anymore. It reminds me of when she asked me to leave before, and she only sounded tired.
“Will you let me-”
“No,” she curtly cuts me off, the anger flaring again with my attempt.
“Okay,” I relent as a terrible feeling of despair grasps me. “I'll go.” That's the last thing I want to do, but I won't force her to talk to me. Her shoulders relax slightly, just enough to make me realize that they were tense. “If you change your mind-”
“I won't.”
I ignore her and continue, “Call me. I'll be working, but we could talk when I get off. We need to talk, Ryan. I need you to talk to me.”
She doesn't acknowledge me anymore, and it breaks my heart. It hurts even worse to know that she loves me, I've inadvertently hurt her, and she doesn't know how I feel. She's not in the mood to talk to me. I have to respect that as much as I don't want to do so. Turning on my heels, I leave her behind, wondering how long I'm going to have to wait before she'll hear me out.
Chapter Fourteen
