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23
A poundingon the front door had me jumping out of bed and flicking on the lights. Disoriented, I looked around to find the time. It was late; I knew that much. I briefly thought back to how I’d ended my evening in order to maybe piece together who would be at my door.
Ryan had called a few times, his voicemails were just him angrily asking that I call him back. I never did. He texted me over and over, asking why I had left. I merely responded that he was busy, and we felt as though maybe it would be best if we left. That led to him calling about ten times in a row. Each voicemail was him asking for me to talk to him.
Finally, after about an hour, he gave up and let me be. I snuggled up and watched a movie with the kids, gave them baths, read them a book, and put them to bed—remembering the whole time that it was always better with just the three of us. I didn’t need anyone else in the picture.
Pounding brought me back to the present moment: some odd hour of night, a stranger banging on my door.
Right.
“Who is it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.
“Ryan.” His angry tone wrapped around me, even through the door separating us.
“It’s late. We can talk tomorrow,” I muttered as I opened the door a crack. The chain on the top would prevent him from barging in, which was good. I didn’t want to talk to him.
Dark eyes set under narrowed brows greeted me.
“Bex…let me in.”
“No. Go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I stood straight, infusing more resolve into my tone than even I believed.
His hand pressed against the door, not in a forceful way, more like he was pleading with me.
“Please, Bex. I have no idea what I did wrong…was it Logan? Did he call you?” His eyes begged me to give him something, to explain why he’d temporarily lost us.
That look was genuine, and I didn’t like that he thought I’d possibly go back to Logan. I didn’t owe him a conversation…and yet I did. In a way, I did. Was it possible that Ryan was so far removed from having anyone in his life he cared for that he didn’t know what he’d done wrong?
Heaving a sigh, I closed the door to unlock it. Opening it, I let him inside and locked up after he’d moved past me. He walked like he was on a mission, straight for my bedroom. My stomach tipped upside down, refusing to straighten out. Why was I feeling this way when I’d mentally already shut him out?
Ryan stood inside my bedroom, waiting for me to pass, his jaw granite. A shadow passed over his face, making me ache in a strange sort of way…like maybe I’d made a mistake when I jumped to conclusions about him.
I padded to my bed and sat down, pulling my knees up, joining my hands together. Ryan shut the door and let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. I watched him, waiting to see how he wanted to begin this conversation.
Seconds later he was moving, crouching on the floor, tugging at my hands until my legs fell. He crawled between them, placing his hands on either side of my hips. His intimate action made my breath hitch; it was so fast I didn’t stand a chance of even trying to push him away.
“Was it him?” His voice tipped with emotion, making my eyes water.
I could only manage to shake my head in response as emotion clogged my throat.
“Then what happened? You were there one second then the next, you left.” His eyes were two stones tossed into the ocean, confusion muddling their iridescent glow.
“Do you really not know?” I whispered.
He searched my face for the answers he needed, realizing he had missed something.
“How long before you realized we were gone?”
Ten minutes, thirty-two seconds. I timed it.
“Too long…I knew you had the kids, so I figured you were in the bathroom, helping them. I didn’t think much of it, but then you didn’t return, and those girls were still fucking talking to me.”
“Ding-ding-ding,” I deadpanned, hoping I didn’t have to dig into this one. I felt stupid being jealous that Ryan would forever share every meal, every outing, every single public moment with his fans. I wasn’t built to handle it.
“Wait…what?” he scoffed. “The girls?”
I tried to push him away, but he gripped my thighs even tighter.
