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"My closet," she says, gesturing, and I see that there is, in fact, a closet behind the bookshelf next to the armchair. "Just like him to just...tuck things away. This might be too hard."
I frown. "You think your stuff is still in there?"
"I'm sure he's just hidden my things so he doesn't have to deal with it, so yeah," she says.
"Hey, that's...a little mean," I say, scrutinizing her. "You shouldn't talk about him that way."
"Sorry," she whispers, closing her eyes. "Things didn't end right between us. Obviously, I'm sneaking around our apartment trying to get my stuff without seeing him, so..."
"What happened?" I ask.
I really shouldn't be doing this, but I'm a sucker for gossip, and I want to know. Plus...Ryan seems like such a nice guy.
I can't imagine him hurting someone like that.
"It's not his fault," she says. "It's mine. I'm just...ashamed. I would prefer not to confront him about anything after what I did."
Evasive. I get the feeling whatever happened wasn't his fault.
But I also get the feeling he might prefer not to see her.
"Here," I say. "Let me help you."
"Really?"
"Yeah, why not," I say. "I understand the value of good winter clothes."
Amanda shakes her head and laughs, but we walk over to the bookshelf and take down the few books up there, along with a photo of Tex. Soon, we're moving the bookshelf aside, a light piece that's barely even collected dust, and the door can openagain. Amanda turns the knob and pulls, and my eyes widen at the treasure trove of stuff stashed inside.
She wasn't kidding.
He really just...put all her stuff away.
"Wow," she says, her face falling. "I left most of this here for him to use...guess I'm the asshole. Out of all the stuff I left, I didn't think he would take the throw pillows."
I glance over at the bed. "Yeah...I think those are just for my benefit."
She huffs out a bitter laugh. "You're younger than I expected."
I frown. "Excuse me?"
Amanda shrugs. "I just didn't take Ryan for the type to date women in their twenties . . ."
"Whoa," I say, shaking my head and raising my hands. "We're not dating. I'm his house sitter."
Amanda's eyes widen and her face falls. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't know . . ."
"I mean, even if you had known, your assumption would have been a little offensive . . ."
"I didn't mean to . . ." she winces and shakes her head. "Shit, I'm such an asshole. You're right. Even if you were his girlfriend, he deserves to be happy. I'll just...I'll get my stuff and get out of your hair."
It's the exact figure of speech Ryan used yesterday—and yeah, it's a common expression, but it still weirds me out to pick up on the similarities in the way they talk. Madison mentioned that Amanda was a long-term relationship for him, and I have to wonder just how long.
As she begins to gather her things, I can't help but feel sympathy for Amanda. Sure, she may have made mistakes, but who hasn't? And the fact that Ryan still keeps her things tucked away like this shows there's still some sort of connection there.
Maybe they need to talk things out.
Maybe I'm on the verge of getting in the way of something real...and I don't want to do that.
