by Lisa Shelby
Maybe now's the perfect time to escape to Cabo. I haven't forgotten her comment that night in Catalina. Seeing the glow on her face when she told me about her feet in the sand, with her Mexican beer in her hand and that someday she would get there for real. I would say now is the perfect time to make that simple dream of hers come true. I know it's just another way of escaping reality, but with me being unemployed and Dickey Brown showing his face in San Francisco, I would say there is no time like the present.
10
Olivia
I feel him kiss me good bye while I pretend to sleep. He's off to work and I'm on day six of being locked in this God-forsaken penthouse. I barely slept last night. I went through the motions and told him I understood and I was sorry. We made love and I had to keep my eyes closed because of the fear that I was going to find more lipstick on him. I know he needed the closeness and to show me that it was only me he loved, but all I could smell was her. His touch usually lights me on fire, but last night was all for him.
My phone rings from my bedside table, but I can't bring myself to answer. I can't. As much as I love him, at the moment I'm hurting. I had seen the pictures of him with London while we were apart, but there is something about seeing them now that we're together. Smelling her on his clothes when he came home last night and then seeing her lipstick has had me reeling, and it's ripping me apart. As much as I tell myself it's all a show and he's doing it for me, it still feels like a betrayal.
The phone stops ringing for only a second, and just as I switch the ringer over to silent, it starts ringing again only this time vibrating. The little black rectangle moves ever so slightly across the wood surface upon which it sits from the vibration that seems to represent how I'm feeling at the moment. I can't help but bristle when I hear the ring or vibration of the phone, knowing he's on the other end. I'm frustrated with myself for feeling this way. If we weren't in this situation, I would have ended things last night, but I know why he was with her. I know he's doing it for me, but I still feel as pissed off as the angry little phone on the table looks as it shakes with agitation. When it finally comes to a resting place, I feel relief and sadness as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I stare out the window at the view of the busy city below. My love for Ronan isn't fading; in fact, the intense love that has overwhelmed my senses for months is what is causing the twist of pain in the pit of my stomach. The trapped feeling I have in this penthouse, which is the size of most people's homes, is caving in on me and I need to clear my head.
It's clear I won't be able to do that here.
I have to get out.
I need a break.
A bit of breathing room.
I see the phone light up again and I pick it up to read the message.
Ronan: I need to hear your voice. Call me.
I set the phone down without replying and make up my mind. I'm getting out of this hotel. I know it's not the right decision, but in my anger and depression, it seems like the only thing that will help me deal with my feelings.
As I shower and get dressed I concoct a plan to get past the babysitters that are never far away. Hanson is posted on the street in front of the hotel, but Bellinger is posted right outside the door. Knowing I have to get him away from the door long enough for me to make my escape, I come up with a lame plan I can only hope and pray will work.
I finish getting ready and once I feel I have everything in place, I set my plan in motion. Picking up my phone, I dial one of the only numbers programmed into it.
"Miss Adams, is everything alight?"
"I'm fine, Ryan, but I was wondering if you could give me a hand?"
"What is it ma'am?"
I hate that he is still so formal with me. Even more so since Ronan has been in the picture. He's sleeping with my friend, I would think we would be on a first name basis, but I get he is trying to be professional.
"Well, this is a little embarrassing but do you know how to fix a toilet that won't stop running? I'm not sure what's wrong, but it looks like it might be about to overflow. I know Ronan doesn't want me calling any hotel staff to the room, so I was wondering if you may be able to help before things get messy in here?"
"Of course, Miss Adams. I'll be right in."
"Thanks, Ryan. I appreciate it."
I hear his key in the door, and he walks in a second later. I walk him to the master bath with the toilet in question.
"See, do you hear that? Look how high the water is. I have no idea how to fix it."
"It won't be a problem, Miss Adams. I fixed these all the time growing up. It will only take a few minutes."
"Okay, then I'll leave you to it. Thanks, Ryan. I really appreciate it."
Walking back through the master bedroom, I can feel my adrenaline pumping as I pull the note I had written for Ronan out of the back pocket of my jeans and place it on his pillow. It's just a short note that tells him I love him, but I need to get out and think. I need a tiny bit of distance and to clear my head.
Once out of the room, I race to the kitchen where my overnight bag is stashed in the cupboard under the sink. Taking a deep breath, I open the door to the hall and step into the elevator. After the doors close, I quickly put my hair up and hide it under a baseball cap, slip on sunglasses, and hold my breath.
Once I reach the lobby, I take the doors at the back of the hotel out to the street and pull the hood of my sweatshirt up and keep my head down. I know it isn't safe to go back to my apartment, so I walk down a couple of blocks and then over another block and hop on the trolley. The wind from the speed of the trolley buzzing down the hills of the city is cool and crisp on my face, and I'm feeling more alive than I have in the past twenty-four hours.
I ride the San Francisco classic all the way down to the pier and mix in with the crowd that exits the trolley and heads toward the water. It's eleven o'clock and the tourists have all made their way down to see the sights and take their photos. The crowd helps me blend in, and I feel safe enough to take my hood down and meander through the pier shops and eateries.
I wander for over an hour. Stopping to enjoy the view of the water and the famed Alcatraz. My feet move on their own accord, and I find myself at Pier 33 with a ticket in my hand and in line to take the Alcatraz Ferry to the notorious prison for a tour. I don't really have a desire to visit the attraction, but it's something to do to pass the time and stay in and amongst the crowd.
I haven't felt any prying eyes on me. I grew accustomed to that feeling these past weeks, but I don't feel it today. And with the many different feelings that have me boarding this ferry, a small inkling of joy and pride is mixed in. As much as I know my little escape will get Bellinger in trouble—who knew knowing how to fix a toilet would help me break one and escape one day—I feel pretty bad ass after successfully plotting and planning my day of fresh air and freedom.
The ferry ride to the island is crowded, but the feeling of being on the water is calming and soon has memories of the boat rides to and from Catalina Island flashing through my mind. No matter how much I wanted to hate Ronan's luxury speed boat, I loved it! It was amazing, and simply thinking about it brings a smile to my face.
I don't really hear a word of the tour. Between thoughts of Ronan with London and knowing Dickey is looking for me, I am in my own little world. Once the ferry drops myself and the tourists from all around the world off at pier 33, I feel exhausted. The combination of my emotions and lack of sleep last night is catching up to me, and I need a break.
I grab a cab and ask him to take me to The Inn at Union Square. It's a cozy little boutique hotel on the same block as the St. Francis. I know I'm not ready to go back yet, but I still want to be close.
I pay the cab driver and put my hoodie back up as I take the ten steps from the curb where I was dropped off to the front doors of the hotel lobby. I check in, using my mothers name, and pay cash for my room. The elevator isn't working, so I take the stairs up three floors to my room. It's a n
ice room, not quite the St. Francis but it certainly will do.
I can see the grand St. Francis from my window, and I know I can't avoid him anymore. I'm sure he is worried out of his mind, so I finally turn my phone back on. I left it off all day to avoid the all-encompassing distraction that is Ronan. I knew if he had access to me, he wouldn't have left me alone for a minute until he found me.
Just as I thought, there are eighteen missed calls and text messages.
Ronan: I got your note. And I get that you need space, but please call me. It isn't safe for you to be out without protection.
Ronan: Olivia, where the hell are you?
Ronan: I get that you're upset. So am I. I hate every moment I'm without you. I know that this is about last night, but you have to know her touch makes me sick.
Ronan: I love you too much to risk you getting hurt. I had to play the part. I never would have gone if you hadn't agreed.
Ronan: You better not have gone home!
Ronan: It's not safe!
Ronan: Come back now!
He's pissed and I don't blame him. I left the safe confines of the hotel, and I'm not communicating with him. I know I'm being childish, and he deserves better. He deserves some sort of communication.
Olivia: Not at home. Safe. Need space. Love you.
Ronan: What did I do?
I could feel desperation in his previous texts, but this one is full of sadness and confusion. I've hurt him, but him letting London get close enough to leave her mark on his skin hurt me too.
Olivia: Nothing. You played your part.
Ronan: We both agreed. I explained. What should I have done?
Olivia: Rationally, I understand all of that. But would you be unfazed if you had to see pictures of me with an ex—a famous ex who looked like that—all over me? Seeing him kiss me...
Ronan: How long?
It seems I’ve struck a nerve, and he finally sees things from my point of view.
Olivia: Just tonight.
Ronan: One night! No longer! I'll never make it without you.
Olivia: Pinky swear.
Ronan: Where will you go?
Olivia: I got a room nearby.
Ronan: I don't like this.
Olivia: I know.
Ronan: I love you.
Olivia: I know.
Ronan: MTB
Olivia: Yes, we are. I love you, and I'll see you tomorrow.
I try to busy myself with room service and movies, but nothing distracts me from my thoughts of Ronan. I turn the lights out but leave the curtains open. As I lay fully clothed on top of the bedding, the reality of my actions clears, and I realize I'm kidding myself.
If I really wanted space, why am I staying at the hotel across the street from where Ronan is in misery and worried I won't come back? I can see the St. Francis from where I lay, and if I had planned on staying, then why haven't I changed my clothes and why am I not under the covers? It's because I know I'm wrong. I know he loves me, and he was only doing what I told him to do.
He came to me and gave me the choice. He let me decide if he should go to the dinner as her date, and I told him to go. I had seen the pictures from our time apart. I knew what to expect. I shouldn’t let it get to me. If I let London come between us, then she is getting what she wants. She wins.
I know Dickey is going to find me if he wants to, but do I want my history shared with the world? Not only will it be humiliating, but it will be something that could damage Ronan's good name and all the work he has put into his businesses and charities, not to mention his employees.
London knows what she's doing, and she's doing it well.
All it takes is the memory of me finding him at Eclipse to wake me out of my selfish need to be alone. I close my eyes and remember finding him scruffy, disheveled, and surrounded by cigarette butts. He had been going through his own family heartbreak, and he was a mess. Yet, even though he was going through the revelation that he never really knew whom his father was, he was still watching my apartment building even after hiring around-the-clock protection for me. He was still worried about me. Still thinking about me.
He loves me.
I love him.
Why am I lying in a strange hotel room across the street from him when I could be in his arms? Why am I torturing him by staying away? I've had the day to myself, and I still haven't come up with the solution to our London problem. I don't know why I thought I could find the solution on my own. Ronan and I are a great team; we've proven that with the start of Luna, and I should know better than to think time away was what I needed.
If I'm honest with myself, I was pissed and hurt. Having him tell me I had to stay at the hotel and not having control of my own life didn't sit well with me, and I wanted to take control back. Control from London and her threats, Dickey and his always lingering shadow, and in the end Ronan and his insistence that I hide away.
I'm alone all day while he's at the office; it wasn't alone time I needed…it was the control. To feel in control of my own life again.
I jolt up and off the stiff hotel bed that holds no comfort without Ronan here to share it with me. I throw on my All-Stars and my hoodie and pack up my bag. Leaving the room key on the dresser, I rip the door open in a flash and run down the hall. I pass the broken elevator and head for the stairs, which I fly down at breakneck speed.
I can't get to him fast enough. I'm both thrilled and anxious. Thrilled at knowing he is just across the street, and I'll be in his arms in mere minutes yet anxious because my behavior was impulsive and immature. I caused him undo stress, and I feel terrible for that.
When the cool night air hits my face, the clarity I was looking for the last twenty-four hours washes over me.
MTB.
Ronan and I are meant to be together, and we can get through anything as long as we are together. I can feel the smile spreading across my face, and I am more determined than ever to find a solution to our situation together.
With the St. Francis in my line of sight and the moon shining over it like a beacon, I step up to the edge of the curb and look to my right to check for cars. One car passes by and once the coast is clear, I hike my bag up a little higher on my shoulder. Just as I lift my foot to step off the curb, something feels wrong, but the feeling hits me just a split second too late, and my world goes black.
11
Ronan
"Where the fuck is she, Baxter? It's been over twenty-four hours!"
"Ronan, I'm sure she's fine, and she's gonna walk through the door any minute now."
"She has no idea that Brown is here and that she's in even more danger than she was before. Why now? Why the fuck now?"
My temper gets the best of me, and it feels as though I’m moving in slow motion when I pick up the vase of fuchsia roses I had sent to the hotel across the room. Glass, water, and pink petals shatter against the wall and litter the floor. What was a representation of love, gratitude, and appreciation now reflects my current frame of mind. Shattered and a complete fucking mess.
My head of security and, more importantly, my friend steps in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders. "Hey, pretty boy, chill the fuck out. It's only two in the afternoon. She said she would only be gone one night. She didn't give you an exact time that she would be back."
I twist out of his grasp and continue pacing through the new penthouse I reserved while I wait for her to return. She isn't answering her phone or texting and has no idea we're no longer in the other suite. I figured being on the same floor was good enough if I could wait for her where she's expecting me to be.
"I'm sure you're right, and I know she's street smart and didn't need me to survive all these years, but she does have me now, and it's my job to protect her. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do that when she won’t even answer her God-damned phone!"
"Well, I can tell you that wearing a trench into the hotel carpet isn't going to do anyone any good. You need to calm down. She told you she was holed up in a hotel nearby, and I'm
sure she still is. At noon I sent Bellinger and his team out to check all the hotels in the area, and I'm sure we'll hear back from them soon. But man, you have to settle down. I think you're overreacting a bit."
I throw myself into the nearest chair and try to calm myself. "Why won't she just answer her fucking phone or text and tell me she's fine? Something’s off Baxter. We can't even locate her phone. I can't just sit here. I've got to do something."
I jolt out of the chair I was only able to keep my ass in for a matter of seconds and roughly run my hands through my hair. I'll be lucky to have any hair left by the time we find her. If she only had a clue what she was doing to me. If she wanted to punish me for letting London get too close, she has been more than successful.
"She's pissed and hurt, Ronan. Women do a lot of things when jealousy rears its ugly head. But put yourself in her shoes, would you be rushing home if you were her?"
"Fuck! I know, okay, I know!" Then I hear the words rushing home in my head again. "Her apartment. Maybe she went there today after she checked out of the hotel. Come on, let's go!" His phone pings, and he holds up his finger telling me to wait, but I can't sit in this room any longer.
I storm out the door with him yelling at my back, but I don't hear a word he's saying. I don't care what he or anyone else thinks. I just need to get my girl safe and sound and in my arms. I need to protect her from the asshole who has already ruined so much of her life and taken so much from her. Between Baxter and myself, we can keep her safe, but she has to play fair and give us the opportunity. I really cannot believe she would be this immature, and as smart as she is, this stupid. What the hell was she thinking?
