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“Are you guys ever going to explain to me what’s been going on for the last three years?” I change the subject. “I know something has. At least, according to you guys’ little whispering promises you’ve given me over the last few days.”
Reece glances at Blaise. “How much did you tell her?”
Blaise shifts behind me, his hands settling on my waist. “I don’t know … Not much … I think.”
Reece’s brows rise. “You think?”
“Hey, don’t talk around me,” I intervene, peering over my shoulder at Blaise. “And don’t try to lie about telling me something has been going on. It’s the only reason I’m not as mad at you.”
“Hey,” Reece whines, “he shouldn’t get a free pass because he’s a sucker.”
My head whips around, and I glare at him. “You think he’s a sucker for telling me hints of the truth?”
Reece pulls awhoopsieface. “No, but I don’t think he should’ve told you before the ceremony. It was too risky, and he was lucky no one else overheard. Plus”—he wavers, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks—“Ryder should be present when we tell you.”
“Why?” I wonder, moving the train of my dress to the side.
Reece chews on his bottom lip. “I know you don’t owe any of us anything, but can you please wait until Ryder is present? He … he just needs to be with us when we tell you everything.”
“But you’ll tell me everything? Promise?” I ask.
With a smidgeon of hesitancy, he nods.
Nerves bubble inside. I’m uncertain why. They’re going to tell me everything. That should make me relax, yet it has the opposite effect.
“Let’s get on with our tour.” Reece sidesteps to the nearest closed door and a wicked smile curls at his lips. “This first room is Ryder’s, which is why it’s the most boring of the rooms.” He pushes the door open.
Blaise chuckles under his breath as he steers me toward the doorway while Reece steps inside and flips on the lights. I step past him and into the room with Blaise right behind me since he refuses to move his hands off my waist.
The room isn’t boring, per se, with ocean-blue walls, a black ceiling, and a diamond-encrusted chandelier. Against the back walls is a king-sized bed with a comforter and pillows that match the rest of the décor. A large trunk is against the foot of it, a dresser is to my right, and to my left is a doorway to what looks to be a bathroom. But nothing about this room reveals anything about Ryder’s personality.
“I mean, I know he was always pretty clean and organized, but where the heck did all of his stuff go?” I ask. “Like his record and journal collection?”
Our love of music and old records is one of mine and Ryder’s things. We used to always go to record stores and spend hours there, listening to music and picking out albums. As for his journaling, he’s been doing that since he could write.
“I think maybe you should ask him that,” Reece mutters with a sigh.
I scratch my wrist, discomfort spreading through my body. If Ryder isn’t journaling and listening to records, what is he doing now? Just being a mobster’s son?
“Okay.” I’m not sure if I will ask him. At least not right now, too scared of the answer.
I endeavor farther into the room, toward the doorway that leads to the bathroom.
Like with the rest of the space, this area has been meticulously cleaned, from the sparkling shower to the polished floors. An open closet is at the back, and he apparently hangs up his clothes in color-coordinated order now.
I spin around toward Ryder and Blaise, who are watching me from the doorway. “Where’s all of his cologne bottles and shampoos? The Ryder I knew had more products than my mom.” Mostly due to his obsession with his hair.
Reece’s lips spread into a grin while Blaise props his shoulder against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.
“They’re in the drawers, organized in categories of products and alphabetized,” Reece says with a nod at the counter.
“No way,” I deny with a shake of my head, assuming he’s messing with me.
“Check for yourself.”
“Fine.” I open one of the drawers where shampoo bottles are lined up in rows, and in alphabetical order.
I carefully close the drawer, almost cracking a joke about Ryder becoming a serial killer. But I bite down on my tongue as sheer horror rushes through me.
