Love Unrehearsed

by Tina Reber

  “You really mean that?”

  “I do. Taryn, I know being in a relationship with me comes with an entire set of stressors that normal people never have to deal with. But you cut that away and I’m still me. I’m just a man.”

  “I know.” I drew in a deep breath. “The prenup thing really surprised me.”

  “It threw me, too. And you’re right. We need to talk about all of this. And if you need me to put it in writing that I’ll never stray, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Mom’s quips of wisdom flooded my thoughts. “No. I don’t need that, because I know that inside, my man has a heart of gold.”

  Knowing he was fully invested in our relationship made all the difference in the world.

  Chapter 19

  Roots

  “And this lovely lady is my crazy cousin Shannan,” Ryan said jovially, hugging the next person lining up to greet us with playful familiarity. Ryan’s mom had apparently invited every relative and their entire neighborhood to our engagement party. My brain was reeling from meeting so many new people.

  He hoisted Shannan up by her waist, her long brown hair curtaining her face.

  “Ah! Ryan! Put me down!” Shannan squealed, thrashing a bit. She had to fix her shirt when he set her back down, all flustered. She gave him a nudging slap. “You’re a nut.”

  It was so magnificent to see Ryan so relaxed and happy, seeing his extended family again. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “And who is this handsome young man?” Ryan asked, patting the head of an adorable little boy. He must have been around seven or eight, holding a black skater’s helmet in his hand.

  “That’s Caden,” Shannan said. “You haven’t seen him in a while.”

  Ryan looked stunned. “Caden? Dude, you’ve grown. You were like this big when I saw you last.”

  Caden regarded Ryan with a scrutinizing gaze. “You look like that guy who’s in that movie my mom likes so much.”

  Shannan appeared mortified by his disclosure, silently nudging her son to go and play.

  Ryan crossed his arms. “You telling me that your mommy likes my movie? This lady, right here? The one who told me that I was wrong for the part?”

  Shannan gave Ryan a shoulder shove.

  Ryan rolled with the punch, obviously loving this information way too much.

  “Oh, yeah. Aunt Nancy and Aunt Stacy, they come over and watch it a lot. Aunt Nancy boos every time that girl, Gwen, comes on the TV, though.”

  “Caden!” Shannan squealed.

  “Mom, I’m hungry. When are the hot dogs going to be ready?” Caden asked.

  “Mom, I want a hot dog, too. And can I go in the pool?” an adorable little blond girl asked, tugging on Shannan’s shorts.

  The pool sounded like a good idea. July in Pittsburgh was hot.

  “Soon, baby. Say hi to Ryan and Taryn. They’re going to get married. This is my daughter, Lauren,”

  Shannan said proudly.

  Just hearing that name made me flinch. But this adorable child and the evil Lauren that I knew were polar opposites.

  As I glanced around the yard and patio loaded with smiling people I was overwhelmed by how large Ryan’s immediate family was. His mother, Ellen, was one of five, all sisters, each of whom had several children and grandchildren. And on his father’s side, Bill Christensen was one of three. Even Ryan’s eighty-two-year-old grandfather, Nels Christensen, was there, congratulating Ryan on his “beautiful choice.”

  I ended up at the long table on the patio after being introduced to more aunts, uncles, cousins, and kids. We’d already been asked several times as to when we were getting married and received numerous suggestions on everything from churches to caterers to what type of flowers are best. Thoughts alone from having to plan and decide on all of these details were enough to send me into a small panic.

  I envisioned Ryan’s side of the church tilting over, filled to the rafters with his boisterous family, while my side had maybe two dozen poor souls clinging to the pews and several rows of crickets. My mother only had one brother, Bobby, and a sister. I hadn’t heard from Aunt Joan since I had called her to tell her I knew about my birth parents. Uncle Bobby was living in Texas—we never saw him. My dad had his brother, Al, and they had two kids. That was it.

  Suddenly, I felt alone.

  Ryan sat next to me in his wet swim trunks, his plate overflowing with food, a stacked hamburger I was sure was painted with ketchup and mayo balancing precariously on top of the pile. I drifted my fingers over the droplets of water that clung to his sun-kissed shoulder, loving the simplicity of our engagement party. His parents could have easily made this into an uncomfortable affair, hiring caterers and servers, but to my relief this was a good old-fashioned family barbecue. His dad and other random men worked the grill while all of the women clustered to make their famous macaroni salad or swap recipes for the forty different types of pies and cookies on display. Life was simply wonderful.

  “Have you given any thought to when you’re going to get married?” his aunt Rita asked. She had a short silver hairdo and that healthy glow that comes from living a carefree flip-flops life in the Florida Keys. She and her husband flew up here just for our party. Her cute little Yorkie pup named Katie was perched attentively on her lap.

  Ryan was double-fisting his burger. I saw him glance in my direction.

  “We’ve looked at some dates but we’ve been so busy that we haven’t really discussed it. Maybe next year. His schedule is quite hectic.” There. That ought to be good enough.

  Aunt Rita pursed her lips, showing a hint of antipathy. “See, that’s the problem with being a celebrity.

  You all put your careers in front of your relationships. That’s why most of the marriages are a farce. She films, he films, and no one has time to tend to the marriage.”

  I saw Ryan stiffen. I knew every fine nuance of his body language and could sense his shift into defense mode. He set his burger down and wiped his hands.

  “Taryn’s not an actress,” Ryan corrected her, wiping his mouth.

  Rita pegged him with that maternal familiarity that silently spoke volumes. “Yes, but you are.”

  His forearms hit the edge of the table like a lawyer ready to argue. “So? What does that have to do with it?”

  I glanced over at Shannan, who was doing her best to pretend that she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, but the way she clutched the arms of her chair with clawed hands said that she wasn’t going anywhere. I watched the nonverbal communications going back and forth between her and her sister, Nancy, which said, Uh oh, Mom’s going to let him have it and rather him than me.

  Aunt Rita pet little Katie with loving strokes. “My point, dear boy, is that you need to take the time to tend to what’s important here—” she patted over her heart—“or else all that glitz and glamour is going to turn you into a celebrity cliché.”

  “A cliché?” Ryan said, offended.

  “Yes. Honestly, the philandering behavior of actors is appalling. Don’t forget how you were raised.”

  His fork hit his plate, rising to her challenge. “Have I ever?”

  “No, but I want to remind you not to be like the rest of the celebrity riffraff out there and shame our

  family.”

  “Well, you can all rest easy. I have no intentions now or ever to shame our family.”

  Aunt Rita seemed pleased by that. Still, she said, “You want to know why all of these high-profile relationships don’t last?”

  “Oh, here we go,” Nancy groaned.

  Shannan sat up. “Mom, maybe now is not the best time to be opinionated.”

  “No really. Listen,” Rita continued, ignoring them. “You all think I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I read and watch the news all the time. What all you young kids fail to remember is that the excitement and freshness of that new relationship doesn’t last. Everyone—every relationship—hits those rough patches when you argue and don’t get along so well and it’s
so easy to be tempted to go for that freshness again to feel appreciated and desired. If not—bam, you’re miserable and getting your kicks elsewhere. But if you keep that freshness alive in your relationship you’ll get through it. Mark my words.”

  “Spoken like a true champion that divorced her first husband,” Ryan’s aunt Betty teased in passing.

  Rita squirmed in her chair. “Jerry was an idiot. There are exceptions to the rules.”

  “Oh, now there are exceptions. You better fill me in so I don’t disgrace the family,” Ryan said dryly.

  “Yes, exceptions, smart aleck. Having a drinking and gambling problem are two of them. Being too drunk to hold a job is another. Exceptions I hope I don’t ever see with any of our children, including you, hot shot.”

  Ryan took a sip of his beer, making that sucking through his teeth sound that happens whenever he gets aggravated. “What I want to know is did you give this same lecture to your two sons-in-law over there as well or is this wisdom you’re imparting just for me?”

  “Oh believe me, they know I’d skin their hides if either of them was unfaithful,” Aunt Rita said assuredly.

  Ryan sat back in his chair, putting her under the same scrutiny. “That’s a good deflection but you’re avoiding the question. Did you or did you not give them the same lecture?”

  “My sons-in-law are not surrounded by promiscuity and temptation.”

  Nancy looked mortified. “Mom, that’s not fair—”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Ryan interrupted her. “There is nothing keeping Brent or Jake from hooking up with the cashier at the grocery store or the flirty secretary at the office or even trying to nail the babysitter. You’re posing a question of morality. My occupation has nothing to do with my morals.”

  “It is widely known that celebrities tend to have more of a propensity for infidelity than do most—”

  “No, you’re questioning my integrity and judging me for no reason because I’m an actor,” Ryan said, stabbing his macaroni salad with his fork. “I don’t deserve that and I don’t appreciate it.”

  Janelle just so happened to be walking by with a full plate of food in one hand and holding her daughter, Sarah, on her hip with the other. I held my hands out since I was done eating and needed to buffer myself from the hostility around me. “Let me have her. Come here, baby girl. Hi, sweetheart. You keep me company while Mommy eats her dinner, okay?”

  Sarah was a welcome distraction, banging her juice bottle on the table. I put some ambrosia on the tip of my spoon, finding a hungry little mouth opening wide for it.

  Ryan gazed at me and then bumped his head in my direction. “You see this, Aunt Rita?” he said, waving his hand at me. “I’ve got everything I need right here, and then some, so don’t you worry about my ability to remain committed.”

  Once the fun of making Ryan feel like shit was over, people started moving away from the table.

  “Bora Bora,” I mouthed when Ryan glanced up from his plate. “First flight out.”

  He snickered softly and leaned over, wrapping an arm over my shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You keep me sane.”

  I smiled up at him and that was all I needed to do to garner one hell of a kiss, as it if was a reward or a thank-you. “I’m guessing Aunt Rita won’t be invited to the wedding.”

  “Screw them all. We’re eloping.”

  The following day we had a smaller party of our own; just a few of Ryan’s friends that I had met at the birthday party I threw for him back in November and plenty of burgers and liquor. Ryan dove into the pool, surfacing right next to my raft. He jostled the edge of the raft with his forearms, rocking me off balance.

  I gripped the edges, laughing and holding on for dear life. “No! Please don’t dump me.”

  Ryan smiled playfully, tugged my raft into his chest, and kissed me senseless. I brushed his wet bangs back off his forehead, tasting the chlorine from the water on his lips as he twined his tongue with mine.

  “Mmm, potato chips and beer.”

  He snickered in my mouth. “Then I guess you should have me for lunch.” That devilish glint in his eye told me he was up to no good. He dipped the edge of my raft down into the water.

  “Please?” I whined. I was enjoying the hot sun, hoping to get a quick tan out of it.

  “Okay, I’ll be nice.”

  I rubbed my hand over his arm, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. “Your shoulders are starting to get really red. You want me to put some lotion on them?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Yeah, he’ll be good until he is complaining that he can’t sleep. “You’re going to be uncomfortable if you burn.”

  Ryan glanced down at where my fingers were trailing. “I feel it on my back more than anything. I’m not going to stay in long, hon. Scott and Laura are actually taking off soon. I want to talk to him about getting some parts for the Shelby.” His finger brushed over the edge of my bikini top. “This one of the suits you bought in Spain?”

  I nodded, fondly remembering our small shopping spree in Barcelona. “You bought this for me.”

  “Nice. I have good taste. Well hello there my little nipple friend. I’m glad to see you, too.” Ryan spun my raft around, placing his back to the rest of the party. That’s when he pulled me in closer, dipped his head, and grazed his teeth over the fabric.

  So much for being discreet. The sensation made my belly clench. “Ryan.” It came out as a breathy moan.

  “Shhh.” He stopped my weak disapproval with a passionate kiss while his finger and thumb slipped under my top, causing me to arch up into his touch. He moved the edge of my suit over far enough to swirl his tongue over the sliver of flesh he’d exposed, sucking so hard I felt it in several different places all at once.

  I was losing the fight as to why he should stop. “Someone might see us.”

  “He returned his mouth to mine. I don’t care. I want you so bad right now. Climb down on me. No one will see.”

  I glanced over at everyone lounging around on the patio furniture, drinking and shooting the breeze.

  “They’re less than thirty feet away. I’m sure they’d figure it out.”

  “I’ll tell them to leave.”

  My eyes swept back to the patio. Janelle was rubbing sunblock on little Sarah. “Ryan . . .”

  “Fine. We’ll come back out here tonight after I tell them all to leave.”

  “Why, Mr. Christensen? You want to play water polo?”

  His face was right in mine, speaking on my lips again, discreetly pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. “No, I want to play hide the submarine. And motorboats.”

  The sun was so bright that even though I was wearing sunglasses, the reflections off the water were almost blinding. I used my hand as a visor just so I could see Ryan’s face. That’s when I noticed something sparkle in the neighbor’s tree. I moved my swimming suit top up to cover what he’d exposed.

  I looked back and saw the flash of brightness again. “What is that?”

  Ryan looked over his shoulder to see where I pointed. “Where?”

  “Up there, in the tree.” I saw movement, first thinking it was a raccoon or someone’s cat and then I saw a knee.

  “What the hell?” He swam to the edge of the pool and pressed his body out of the water.

  I saw the man crawl down from the tree as I hurried to get out of the pool. I made it to the driveway when I spotted the rogue photographer come out through the neighbor’s hedgerow, distracted and clutching his camera. He noticed Ryan just as Ryan made his way between the rows of cars in his parents’

  long driveway.

  The photographer started to run.

  Ryan took off like a bullet out of a gun.

  Mike pushed past me. “Oh, shit.”

  Scott and Matt were tight on Mike’s heels. Scott tossed his plastic cup of beer to the ground just as Ryan’s body became airborne, tackling the paparazzo in the neighbor’s front lawn.

/>   By the time I reached them, Ryan was straddling the guy, trying to wrestle the camera free. The guy tried to hit Ryan, but Ryan dodged his swing. He clipped Ryan’s shoulder instead.

  “You son of a bitch.” Ryan hauled back and punched the photographer in the face, making that sick popping sound that could only come from fist hitting flesh and bone.

  “Ryan, stop!” I screamed as he continued to swing.

  Mike grabbed Ryan around his chest and pulled him off the photographer, tossing him like a 180-pound sack of potatoes onto the grass.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” the scrambling paparazzo asked, wiping his fingers over his bloodied lip.

  “Ryan. Ryan. Easy, man.” Mike had to use his weight to hold Ryan down.

  “Scott, get the fucking camera,” Ryan ordered, pointing. “Rip the card out.”

  “No! Don’t touch it,” Mike yelled.

  Ryan scrambled to his feet. “He’s got pictures of Tar and me, Mike. Those prints will never see the light of day.”

  “Don’t touch my camera,” the photographer said vehemently.

  “Give me the fucking memory card or I’m going to finish what he started,” Scott threatened.

  “Go to hell. I don’t have to give you shit.”

  Ignoring Mike’s commands to stop, Scott kicked the guy’s hand, knocking the camera free.

  Just as the paparazzo tried to grab for the camera and Scott’s leg, Ryan lunged and tackled him again.

  The guy rolled and elbowed Ryan in the face. Blood instantly gushed from Ryan’s nose. Matt wrestled the guy until he had him pinned face-first in the grass.

  I heard the police sirens in the distance. Mike was trying to break it up, but the second that Ryan got injured, Matt joined the rumble. The boys from Pittsburgh were giving this guy an ol’ fashioned ass-kicking.

  Ryan staggered to his feet and spit a wad of blood out of his mouth. Then he picked up the camera from the grass, removing the memory card. He set the camera near the guy’s head.

  The sirens were getting closer. Ryan’s hands were bloody from his nose bleeding all over the place.