An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three)

by Schurig, Rachel

  I made a face at him as I picked up my weights and started on my bicep curls. “Don’t even ask.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Let’s just say we have now entered deep-freeze mode.” My mom was clearly upset with me. Every time we had talked lately, she’d been cold and distant. It was silly; I’d been pretty cold and distant toward her for months now, but for some reason her reciprocation made me feel almost panicky.

  Ryan shook his head. “You’re a saint, Ash.”

  I was using a heavier weight than usual and had to concentrate on pushing through for a second before responding. “What do you mean?”

  “Putting up with that stuff for all these years. Being Amber’s daughter. I don’t think I could have done it.”

  I was so surprised that I actually dropped my weight. “What?”

  He looked confused at my reaction. “I think it’d be tough to be the daughter of Amber Phillips, that’s all.”

  “I thought you adored my mom!”

  “I do. I mean, she’s gorgeous and stylish and makes amazing baked goods. And the lady knows how to decorate. But she definitely pays a price for all that perfection. And so do you.”

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. My entire life, I had thought my friends idolized my mother as much as I had. Hadn’t I been told a thousand times how lucky I was? How everyone wished they had a mom like her?

  “Sweetie.” Ryan shook his head, looking vaguely sad. “I can be impressed by her fashion choices and her constant manicures and blow-outs because she’s not my mom, you know? If she was, if I had to live under that kind of pressure, I don’t think I’d find it nearly so impressive.”

  “You think she puts pressure on me?” I asked quietly.

  Ryan just looked at me. “Of course she does, Ashley,” he finally said.

  I picked up my weights again, lost in thought.

  “Were you, ah, not aware of the pressure?” he asked uncertainly.

  I shook my head. “I was. Of course I was. I just didn’t realize it was that obvious to everyone else.”

  “I do know you pretty well,” he said. Ryan was quiet for a few moments as we went through our exercises. “I’ve been wondering, actually,” he said eventually, “if that’s why you’re so checked out on the wedding.”

  “I am not checked out about the wedding,” I said, immediately irritated. “You sound like Allison.”

  “So Allison noticed, too,” he said, nodding. “Smart girl.”

  “There’s nothing to notice!” I cried. “Jeez. I am totally and completely excited to marry Chris, okay?”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re excited to marry Chris.” Ryan had this way of completely ignoring me when I was upset if he thought I needed to hear something. No matter how high pitched my voice got, he would just go on talking, a serene look on his face. It drove me crazy.

  He had that look on his face now as he picked up a heavier set of dumbbells to start his triceps exercises. “I know you want to be married to Chris. I just don’t think you’re in any way looking forward to getting married… you know, the wedding part.”

  “You’re crazy,” I muttered, though color was coming to my face. Why did I have to blush every time I got uncomfortable? Ryan was watching me, a satisfied expression on his face.

  “I just think it would be hard,” he said softly. “To be so angry at her and so scared of disappointing her at the same time.”

  For the second time, I felt completely shocked by his words.

  He’s right, I thought, wanting to cry. He’s completely and totally right.

  “It’s probably easier to just let her plan everything, huh?” he asked, in that same soft voice. I could barely hear him over the noise in the gym, but he had me captivated, hanging on every word. How had he figured this all out, when I hadn’t been able to put it into words, even in my own head?

  “That way,” he continued, “you can’t mess it up. And you can keep your distance, so you can stay mad at her in peace.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess it is.”

  Ryan sighed. “I just don’t want you to regret it, Ash. This is your wedding. It always meant so much to you. I would hate for you to look back on it later and feel disappointed in how it went down.”

  “How will I feel anything else?” I asked, feeling a sudden panic envelop me. “No matter what happens, when I look back, this will always be the time when my parents split up. That’s what I’ll remember about my wedding.”

  Before he could respond, I saw Tate approaching. “You guys seem to be talking more than working out,” he called.

  I looked at Ryan, scared. There was no way I could talk to Tate, not right now. I was sure I would burst into tears at any moment. Without a word, Ryan understood. “Her knee’s bugging her,” he called out. “I’m gonna take her home.”

  “You sure?” Tate asked, still approaching. “We could always ice it here for a while…”

  “No,” Ryan said, taking my arm. He turned me away from Tate toward the locker rooms. “She just wants to go.”

  “Feel better!” Tate called to our retreating backs. I gave a half-hearted wave over my head as Ryan led me to the locker room.

  “Just grab your stuff,” he said. “You can shower later.” I think he was worried about me breaking down on my own in the locker room. As I gathered my bag and street clothes, I still had that panicky feeling, knowing that my wedding was ruined before it even happened, that there was nothing I could do about it.

  Ryan was waiting for me outside the locker room. “Ready?” I nodded and followed him outside into the cool early May air.

  Once we were in the dark car, I turned to Ryan. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? It’s been a really long day…I just want to go home.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, unconcerned. “We can talk anytime.”

  We drove home in near silence, Ryan occasionally humming along to the radio. When we got to the apartment, I saw that Chris’s car was already there and suppressed a groan. For the first time that I could remember, I had no desire to see Chris that night.

  “Want me to come up?” Ryan asked, his hand on the keys. I sighed in relief. Ryan could hang out with Chris while I showered, giving me time to get myself together.

  “Yes, please.”

  As we made our way upstairs to my apartment, I reached over and grabbed Ryan’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You’re a great friend, you know that, Ryan West?”

  “I do, yes,” he said, nodding seriously.

  Emily and Chris were both in the living room, drinking beer and watching a Wings game. “Hey, baby,” Chris called, smiling at me.

  “Hey to you, too,” Ryan said, making Emily giggle and Chris roll his eyes.

  “Hi,” I said, waving to them both. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.”

  I took off for the safety of the bathroom, still feeling too worked up to talk with either of them. Before I shut the door, I heard Ryan telling them about my fall.

  Under the hot water, I closed my eyes. In that one conversation with Ryan, everything had suddenly become so clear to me—the way I had been acting, the things I had been feeling, without even realizing why. How I felt about my mother and her involvement in my wedding. The fear I still had, even after everything, that I would disappoint her if she didn’t get her way. And the underlying dread that none of it mattered, not really, because the wedding was already ruined.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following Saturday I was enjoying a rare evening in with Chris when Ryan burst in, laden down with a garment bag and a multitude of shopping bags.

  “Are you busy?” he asked. “No? Good. I need your help.”

  “We’re actually watching a movie, Ry,” Chris said. “See how we’re sitting here on the couch with popcorn, watching people talk and move on that glass screen over there?”

  “Ha, ha,” Ryan said flatly. “Come on, Ashley! You can watch movies with him any time. God knows you�
�re going to be a boring old married couple soon enough. What else will you have to do? This is an emergency!”

  I turned to Chris. “Can we pause it?”

  “What the hell,” he said, picking up the remote. “It kind of sucked anyhow.”

  “You’re just saying that because I picked it,” I muttered, elbowing him gently.

  “Hello!” Ryan yelled. “Emergency, remember?”

  “Fine,” I said, standing. “What’s up?”

  “Bedroom,” he ordered, already walking down the hall to my room.

  “I’ll be back,” I said to Chris, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

  “You better,” he said, grabbing my hand before I could move away. He kissed my palm before looking back up at me. “I miss you, you know?”

  My heart seemed to twist at his words. I felt guilty, suddenly, for being so preoccupied lately, so moody about the wedding. Not to mention all the time I’d been devoting to boot camp. Chris and I weren’t spending nearly the amount of time together that we should have been a mere three and a half months before the wedding. “I miss you, too,” I said softly, leaning down to give him a real kiss.

  “Ashley!” Ryan yelled from the bedroom, and I sighed against Chris’s mouth.

  “Go ahead,” he said, smiling. “I’ll be right here.”

  I heard Chris click over to a Wings game as I walked down the hall. Ryan was standing in the middle of my room, taking things from the various bags and laying them around across my bed.

  “What’s all this?”

  He spun to face me. “Okay, prepare yourself.” He paused. “Are you prepared?”

  “I’m prepared.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m about to tell you something that you probably never expected I would say. I certainly never would have imagined I’d be in this position. But it’s true. Okay. Here goes.” He paused for effect. “I have no idea what to wear.”

  I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Shut up.”

  “No, Ashley. I’m serious. I just…don’t know.”

  “But you always know what to wear. You always know what I should wear. You’re my fashion guru. You made me agree to that pact.”

  Ryan hung his head in shame. “I know,” he said sadly. “I know.” He looked up at me again, desperation in his face. “But here I am, Ash. Clueless.”

  “Okay,” I said, patting his arm. “It’s going to be okay. What’s the occasion?”

  Ryan winced. “I have a date.”

  I froze. Never once had I heard Ryan express anything but extreme confidence in getting ready for a date. Sure, he and I could debate the merits of black shoes over brown for hours at a time, but that was just conversation. For him to really not know…

  “Who’s the guy?”

  Then Ryan did something even more shocking, if possible, than his admission of fashion confusion: he blushed.

  “Oh. My. God.” I whispered, pointing at him. “You’re smitten!”

  “I am not,” he said, covering his face. “Stop looking at me!”

  “Who is it? Tell me!” I felt excitement bubble up inside me. Ryan had a crush!

  “He’s a teacher. Junior high math, or something like that.”

  A teacher, I thought. Interesting. Ryan usually went for a lot more flash than that.

  “I met him at a party in midtown last night. We talked the whole night.” His face softened for a moment, the fear leaving for the first time since he’d burst in. “It was amazing.”

  I wanted to dance, but I managed to contain myself. “And his name?”

  Ryan paused for the briefest moment. “His name is Brian.” He caught sight of my face. “And don’t you even say it, Ashley Phillips—”

  He was too late. “Brian? Brian? Brian and Ryan! Come on, this is too, too perfect.”

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he said, grabbing my shoulders to stop me from jumping up and down. “You’re going to blow it all out of proportion, and I’m nervous enough already.”

  “You’re nervous?” I cried. This was getting better and better. Ryan never got like this. He must have it bad.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “I’ll help you,” I said quickly, trying to wipe the grin off my face and failing miserably.

  Ryan had brought three different options with him, which he spread out on my bed along with corresponding accessories—ties, shoes, even sunglasses. “What’s the plan for the evening?” I asked.

  “Drinks. Maybe dinner if it goes well. The Crave Lounge in Dearborn.”

  “Hmm,” I said, looking at my options. “Okay, I say for a first date you should go classic. How about this…” I pulled his Seven for All Mankind dark wash jeans from the pile. “These are slim cut?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then I’d say these with your button down from Prada and a tie. Perfect for a first date. Simple and appropriate.” I fingered the white Prada shirt lovingly for a minute. Ryan had the best clothes.

  “You don’t think that’s too generic?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Classic, not generic. You look great in those jeans, and you know this shirt fits you like nobody’s business. You’ll be hot.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding slowly. “I think you’re right. Okay.”

  Ryan left five minutes later, barely managing a goodbye to Chris, so he could get back to his apartment in time to finish getting ready.

  “No second guessing,” I called after him as he ran down the stairs. I closed the door and turned to Chris with a huge grin on my face. “I think Ryan’s in love.”

  One of the best things about Chris was his willingness to gossip with me. He listened eagerly while I recapped the entire scene from my bedroom, even gasping when I told him about the blushing.

  “This is perfect,” he murmured, grinning like a fool. “Ryan totally deserves it.”

  “I know,” I said happily, remembering our conversation over spring break. “And I think he really wants it, too.”

  “Well, my fingers are crossed,” Chris said, standing up. “Want a beer? I’m out.”

  “Sure,” I followed him into the kitchen where he pulled two Bell’s from the fridge for us.

  “So, what do you feel like doing now?” he asked. “Finish the movie?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. It did kind of suck.”

  Chris laughed. “Told ya.” He thought for a moment. “Hey, I have an idea. We could look for apartments.”

  “Apartments?”

  “Yeah, for us. You know, for after the wedding.”

  “Ooh, that sounds fun!” Both of our leases were up in August. We had decided we’d find a place of our own, instead of moving in to his apartment or him coming here. Emily was still very torn on what to do, but she seemed to be leaning toward taking up the lease of this place herself. I think she wanted to move in with Elliot, but she was too scared of what her dad would think.

  I went to my bedroom and pulled out my laptop, meeting Chris back in the living room. I snuggled in next to him as the computer booted up.

  “I’m glad we’re doing this,” he said, resting his head on top of mine.

  “Me, too.”

  We were both quiet for a minute. “How are you, Ashley?” he asked, his voice soft.

  “I’m okay,” I said automatically.

  “Are you sure? I feel…I don’t know, you feel kind of distant lately.”

  My stomach dropped. I hated that he had picked up on it. I never wanted to make Chris feel bad. “It’s been a little tough,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “With my parents and everything. And the wedding. I have a lot on my plate.”

  It was true. Between the constant wedding-based communication with my mom, trying to visit with my dad weekly, and the boot camp with Ryan, I felt like I never had time for anything.

  “I wish you would let me help with the wedding more,” he said. “I was talking to Jeff at work the other day, and he said when he was engaged, his fiancée had him running al
l over town looking at paper samples and tasting cakes. I could do that for you, you know?”

  My stomach dipped again. I really did not want to get into all this with him, especially after my talk with Ryan at the gym. What was I supposed to say? Honey, there’s no need to waste time planning the wedding because I’m going to be miserable about the whole thing regardless. Yeah. That would go over well.

  “There’s not really any need,” I said instead. “That’s why Mom hired the planner. She does all the running around, and I just give the approval on the stuff she finds.”

  “That’s a pretty good deal,” he said, chuckling. I felt a flash of relief. He had bought it. I wouldn’t have to tell him, after all, about the complete disconnect I felt from the wedding plans—and the reason why.

  “All you have to do is show up looking handsome,” I told him, kissing him lightly. His returning smile made me feel worse, somehow.

  “All right, apartments,” he said, opening the Internet browser. “Where should we start?”

  * * *

  Over the next several weeks, Ryan astounded me by forming a completely healthy, drama-free, un-sabotaged relationship with Brian. I had never seen him so happy, so completely at ease with another guy. Usually Ryan was always struggling to impress the guy he liked, trying to fit himself into the guy’s life, instead of being himself. With Brian, he was completely different. He was, more or less, the way he was with us.

  Emily and I invited them over for dinner after they’d been seeing each other for a few weeks. Chris had a late night at the lab and wouldn’t be joining us, but I knew Em was about as good of a judge of character as I could hope for when trying to get a sense of my best friend’s new guy. Within minutes of sitting down, Emily and I were covertly grinning at each other across the table. She saw exactly what I did—they were perfect together.

  Brian wasn’t quite like anyone Ry had gone for before. He was a little shorter than Ry, and somewhat stout. This in itself was a surprise. Ryan usually got involved with guys I would describe as skinny, the kind who rarely washed their hair and thought white undershirts were the height of style. Skeezy, Emily would say, when we weren’t feeling so polite. Brian had short blond hair, which I was happy to see was very clean, and was dressed in regular old jeans, a button-down shirt, and a blue sweater vest.