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I was about to text him, but I had to hear Shanna’s voicemail first.
“Oh my God, you guys – DRAMAAAA! Where the fuck are you, journa-slut? Your rock star boyfriend just called me all freaking out. I have to tell you this first, though: nicely played. I figured HE’D be the one breaking YOUR heart, not vice versa. He wouldn’t tell me why you split, but I’m betting he was an asshole in some way, shape, or form, since you’re not smart enough to listen to my advice and just up and leave. But seriously, he’s fucking losing it. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you miiiiight want to consider having pity on him and just letting him know you’re alive. Fuck it, let ME know you’re alive while you’re at it. And damn, Gina, why you holding out on the juicy details? Do I mean THAT little to you? Jesus – your life is finally way more exciting than mine, and you decide to go all radio silence! Call me, bitch! Stat!”
I rolled my eyes. Trust Shanna to make this all about her. (Although in a very funny way.)
But what she’d said about Derek was alarming me even more. He’d waited three hours for me… he’d talked to my building manager… and then he’d tracked down Shanna. And nobody knew where I was.
No wonder he was envisioning ditches and comas and serial killers.
I was about to text him back, just to let him know I was alive… but I remembered how this had all started.
Somebody had been keeping secrets.
I stomped through the house and stormed into Ryan’s studio without knocking.
He looked around in surprise and pulled off his headphones. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Derek doesn’t know where I am, does he.”
It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation.
Once he realized that a battalion of cougars wasn’t attacking the ranch, Ryan relaxed for about one second – and then his face became very neutrally composed.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?!”
“For one thing, he hasn’t called me since Vegas.”
“You could have called
him!”
“And told him what? ‘Oh, by the way, your girlfriend is here, but she doesn’t want to see you or talk to you.’ What do you think he would have done?”
I stopped short. I’d never even considered that.
And I knew exactly what he would have done, because he’d just done it with New York (although it took him twelve days to swallow his pride and get around to it).
He would have come out here to South Dakota.
Ryan saw the dawning comprehension in my eyes. “Yeah. And since he’s aware of my… past feelings for you, I can assure you, it wouldn’t have gone over very well. No matter how innocent my intentions might be.”
Past feelings for you.
I wondered how much in the ‘past’ those feelings really were.
And just how innocent his intentions might be.
I had a sudden urge to pull out that ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card and throw it in his face.
“I’m going to text him,” I announced.
“No one’s stopping you,” Ryan said. He didn’t say it in a punk-ass way – just very calmly and matter-of-factly. Which, in my current state, pissed me off. “But I can tell you this: one text isn’t going to be enough for him. It’s going to set off a chain reaction of crazy on his part like you wouldn’t believe.”
“You know him so well, huh.”
“I do, actually. Can I ask you a favor?”
“What,” I said belligerently. I wasn’t being nearly as graceful as he was about the whole situation.
“Don’t tell him you’re here. Not yet. If you want to tell him tomorrow, fine. But let it sit for 24 hours. I know Derek. If you tell him you’re here, he’s going to freak out. He’s going to immediately think we’re having a non-stop orgy, and when he gets here, he’s going to be out for blood. So just… don’t tell him. Not yet.”
I gritted my teeth. Ryan made it all sound so… logical. Rational.
But it felt dishonest. And sleazy.
Like something Derek might do?
a vicious little voice in my head asked.
“Fine. I’ll just let him know I’m okay.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said. He sounded genuine when he said it, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
The same couldn’t be said for me.
“You’re welcome,” I snapped, and slammed the studio door behind me.
