From Our First: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  And I had a feeling that maybe the jitters didn’t come from the coffee. Perhaps they were from the girl at my side.

  “Are you kidding me? How do you know that?” Myra said, stealing a dumpling from my plate.

  I tapped her hand with my chopstick, but she was too fast for me, so I stole a crab rangoon from hers.

  “Hey, that was mine.”

  “No, you ate my dumpling, so this is mine. To answer your question, I knew the answer to that because I took that class last semester. Same professor and everything. Tests are different, though, so I can’t help you there.”

  Myra shook her head. “I wouldn’t accept them anyway. I’m not a cheat.”

  I held up my hands, chopsticks and all. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate you were. I’m just used to saying shit like that because many of the people around here want the easy way out.”

  “I may hate my major and will likely change soon, but I don’t want the easy way out. I want to learn. I want to do things. I want to be somebody.”

  I leaned down and captured her lips with mine, sinking into her. She was soft and sweet and gentle. And she made me think of happiness and a future. I didn’t know why, I knew we were too young, and that everything was going way too fast, but I was falling in love with Myra.

  And my family would rip into me if they ever found out.

  “I thought we were supposed to be studying and finishing our dinner,” Myra whispered against my lips.

  “If that’s what you want to do,” I grumbled, and then she kissed me harder.

  My pulse raced, and I set down the chopsticks so I could cup her face with my hands.

  “I want to, Nathan,” she whispered, her voice soft, sweet but also sure.

  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can wait.”

  “I’m not a virgin, Nathan. Neither are you. I want to be with you.”

  “Okay,” I whispered and kissed her again.

  I led her down to the couch, taking it slow, running my hands up and down her body as she did the same with mine, both of us learning each other. We had nearly gone this far before, still feeling like this was new, as if the times we had been with others hadn’t prepared us for what this was.

  This had to mean something—the seriousness of it all. Only, I didn’t know what.

  I kissed her softly, needing her, bringing her closer to the edge. And when I slipped inside her, we both moaned. Her hands clutched my body, and my hips nestled against hers. And then we moved, arching into each other as if we had never been like this before. And maybe we hadn’t.

  Perhaps this was exactly what we had been missing.

  Maybe this was precisely what we each needed.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  Her eyes widened, and I nearly cursed at myself for saying the words.

  Tears slid down her cheeks as she arched into me and kissed me again.

  “I love you.”

  And then we shattered.

  “I cannot believe we’re doing spring break in Vegas,” Myra said, laughing.

  “Everyone else is doing it.” I laughed.

  “At least you’re nearly twenty-one. I’m not even close.”

  “Nearly twenty-one doesn’t really help in Vegas. But we can still hang out at the pool and see the Hoover Dam and things.”

  “And we can do…other things,” Myra said, and my cock hardened.

  Apparently, having a girlfriend on spring break would be kick-ass, unlike what my friends had said as they razzed me before they went off to find women for themselves at the pool.

  “I don’t think we’re going to need to leave the hotel room often,” I said, and she grinned.

  “Oh, so we’re just going to watch movies?”

  “Maybe. And you know Dave got us some vodka for the room. That way, we don’t have to go out.” I whispered the words in case others overheard, and she smiled again.

  “Okay, I trust you.”

  Warmth filled me. “Yeah?”

  “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  Everything was moving so fast. It felt like I had known her for my entire life. Like I would die without her. I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the desire to be with her.

  So, I kissed her, taking her in.

  I still wanted more.

  “Let’s get married,” I blurted. She looked up at me, her eyes wide.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Did I say those words out loud?” I queried, my heart racing.

  “Married? Are you serious? We’ve only been together for like six months. I haven’t even met your family yet since they’re all up north and I went home for the holidays.”

  “Yeah, that was stupid. I mean, we’re in Vegas, but you know, it should take more than one night before we even drink for us to get married.”

  “You really want to get married?”

  “Why not?” I asked, the idea making sense now, even though I knew it was idiotic. “We both want the same things in life. We want a future. And you know I love you. What’s stopping us?”

  “Everything is,” she said, but then she frowned, looking down at her hands. “Or maybe, nothing is. This could be ours. No one else’s. A decision that we make. One that no one can take away from us.”

  I looked down at her, my pulse thudding so hard in my ears I could barely hear anything else. “Married. You and me. We can do this. We can figure out everything else later, but we can get this done now, just you and me. No big brothers or overbearing families telling us what to do.”

  “Married.”

  “I love you, Myra.”

  “And I love you, Nathan. So, yes. I’ll marry you.”

  I knew a person’s heart could break. I had read it before. I didn’t know that it could shatter into a thousand pieces as you tried to keep up.

  You weren’t supposed to realize that the fate you had set out for yourself was a lie. I thought that making stupid decisions when young was something people did. I didn’t know I would be the one jumping headfirst into secrets and denial.

  I swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile back, my whole body shaking. I felt like I was two steps behind.

  I looked down at the photos, at the people in front of me, and couldn’t breathe.

  The love of my life, my wife, lay in bed with another man, a smile on her face, both of them naked and clearly sated after whatever the hell they had done together in bed.

  “Why are you showing this to me?” I asked, my voice breaking. It hadn’t broken like that in so damn long, but I didn’t feel like I was in my twenties right now. I felt like I was ten again. Or maybe fifty. I didn’t know. I just didn’t feel like me.

  Myra’s parents sat in front of me, sad expressions on their faces, the pearls around Myra’s mother’s neck bright in the glow of the lights, the crisp suit on her father’s body looking as if it had been custom made for him.

  I had never met Myra’s parents before, but I had married their daughter.

  I knew we had made a mistake, had gone too fast. But we had both said that we could figure things out and make it work. However, now that we were back in Colorado, it had only been four days—four days, and everything was wrong.

  “We wanted to show you what Myra’s boyfriend gave us.”

  “Boyfriend?” My hands shook. “But I’m her husband.”

  I didn’t miss the tightening of their eyes.

  Her mother sighed. “You might have those papers, but you don’t have her heart. You can’t. I meant her boyfriend from back home, where she belongs. He loves her.”

  Myra’s father tightened his jaw. “He gave us these photos. Ones they must have taken together. Because, as I said, they love each other. And you can see they’re recent. At least from the past six months. When you said she was with you.”

  “She’s been with me the whole time…” I trailed off, trying to work through the lies.

  “Nathan, I’m sorry.”

  “M
y name’s Nate.” I hated the word from her mouth. The only person that called me Nathan was Myra. And I never wanted to hear that name again.

  “Okay, Nate,” her father began again. “We didn’t want to see these photos, but they came into our possession. And we didn’t know any other way to tell you that Myra has been unfaithful. She’s made mistakes. And she needs to go home. To heal. To get her life together. And you need to let her.”

  “I don’t understand. How did you even hear about any of this?”

  His hands tightened in front of me, and I swallowed hard. “Myra has responsibilities, family obligations. We always knew where our daughter was. We thought we would let this relationship run its course, but we were wrong about her true intentions. She’s not meant to be with you, Nathan.”

  “Nate,” I bit out.

  “I’m sorry,” her father said again. “But as you can see, Myra has been lying to you. She’s been lying to all of us. We’re going to take her out of school. Take her home. Get her some help. But we thought you needed to know the truth. We are here for you, Nate.”

  I didn’t want to believe them. I knew the photos had to be lies. But the evidence was right in front of me. Myra had cheated on me. I noticed the bracelet on her wrist in the picture. It was the one I had given her for Christmas right before she went back to California. And, apparently, did this.

  I thought she had been with me.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “As I said, we’re going to take Myra home now. You need to break up with her. We can get the annulment,” her father elaborated. “That is what’s needed.”

  “You can’t get an annulment if the marriage is consummated,” I said without thinking, and her mother blanched.

  “Fine. We can do a divorce here. It doesn’t matter. Myra needs help. And you need to let her go. You don’t need to get hurt any more than you are.”

  Betrayal stung, and I felt like I was going to throw up. But I knew somewhere deep down that I had been making a mistake when I had said, “I do.” When I told her that I wanted to marry her. We had been drunk on love or lust, and things had moved far too quickly.

  It was all a mistake.

  “You need to go now,” I said.

  “Are you going to do the right thing, Nate?” her mother asked.

  “Please, just go,” I said.

  They stared at me for a long while before they finally left, leaving me sitting there wondering what the hell had happened. They’d taken the photos, and I felt like nothing was right. As if nothing were real.

  How the hell had this happened?

  I knew we had moved too fast, that we needed to take a few steps back and figure out who we were together. But together clearly wasn’t something she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t something she had ever wanted.

  “But why did she say yes, then?” I asked.

  That bracelet. The one I had given her.

  She’d worn it in that photo with another man.

  “Nathan?” Myra asked from the doorway. “I rang the doorbell, but you didn’t answer. And the door was open so I came in. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She ran to me, kneeling at my feet, and I looked down at the ring on her finger, the band on mine, the one that I only wore when nobody was home because I wasn’t ready to tell my parents that I had gotten married.

  I wasn’t ready to be married. If I had to lie about it, I knew I wasn’t ready. And Myra hadn’t been either.

  “You need to go,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I realized I was even saying them.

  “What?” Myra asked. “What’s wrong? Is it your dad? Your mom? Oh my God, did you tell them?”

  “No, I didn’t. I didn’t do anything.” I looked down at the ring on my finger, then slid it off and stared at it on my palm. “But it seems you’ve been doing things.”

  I heard her sharp intake of breath, and knew it had to be the truth. She had to know that she was caught.

  My heart lurched, and I felt as if I were falling.

  I loved her. But I didn’t know her. Not really. So, maybe I only loved the idea of her.

  “I saw the photos,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “You cheated on me. I know you did. You cheated. I don’t even know you.”

  She scrambled to her feet, her head shaking as tears filled her eyes. She always cried when she got angry, but maybe that was a lie, too. Perhaps she was simply a great actress.

  “Where are you getting this? Pictures? I’ve only been with you since we met. It’s always only been you. I married you.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, you married me. In Vegas. Cliché much? It’s over, Myra. Take this.” I tossed the ring at her, and she caught it, fumbling a bit. “Just go. I’m done.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “You’re saying it’s over? Because of some pictures I haven’t seen? And you think I cheated? You know me, Nathan. I would never cheat on you. Where are you getting this?”

  “I saw the proof. I know who you are now. I should have known given how everything moved so fast, and you were so readily into it. What else have you been lying about? No, you know what? I don’t care. We made a mistake, and we both knew it. Neither of us told anyone in our lives about the marriage, and yet we were supposed to be husband and wife? No, fuck that. You’re a cheater...you cheated on me. You broke my trust. I can’t believe anything you say. You need to go.”

  Her face blanched, and I felt like I might throw up.

  She stopped crying and looked at me, blinking. “I don’t know what you saw, and I don’t know what you think you know. But I would never do that.”

  “I saw the truth. I don’t know you, Myra. I don’t think I ever did.”

  “No, Nathan. I didn’t know you.” She looked down at the ring in her palm and then slid hers off her finger. She clutched them both tightly and swallowed hard.

  “It’s over, Myra.”

  Then she walked out, leaving me thinking maybe I had made a mistake. But, no, I had already made the biggest mistake.

  She’d cheated on me. When I trusted her.

  But now, she was gone.

  We had been too young. Stupid.

  And now, we were over.

  Chapter 6

  Myra

  * * *

  I did my best not to think about the time before I moved back to Colorado. It was as if I were a different person then. One that had caught a glimpse of freedom and truth but then had the rug ripped out from under my feet.

  Nathan hadn’t believed me. After the time we had spent together, the promises we made—even if made hastily—he still hadn’t believed me.

  And to this day, I didn’t know why he had so easily parted ways with me. Or how he had delved into those untruths to follow whatever path he felt he needed to in order to push me away.

  He might’ve felt as if I had betrayed him then, but I knew it was the opposite. He had so easily believed in my failings, yet he had been the one to fail me in the end.

  And now, every time I looked at him, I remembered that time. I remembered the pain and anger.

  And I hated myself for it. But not as much as I hated him.

  We were trying to get past that. To find common ground where we could act like reasonable adults. But it wasn’t easy. Especially when, every time I looked at him, I remembered what we’d had, and what he had thrown away with his casual cruelty.

  I looked down at my canvas and knew that today wasn’t going to be a day for art. Still, I had a commissioned piece coming up that I wanted to focus on, and I needed to get a few sketches down. Later, I could focus on this piece since it was more for fun for an upcoming auction.

  I had a showing on my calendar in a few months, and I needed to go through my plans for that, too, but my head wasn’t in the right place.

  I loved what I did. It wasn’t what I’d thought to do—or what I’d thought I’d be allowed to do. But once I’d pushed that word from my vocabulary, I had found myself loving wh
at I did even more. Only now, seeing Nathan as much as I had been, routinely pushed me back into the past.

  And why did he keep popping back into my mind? I needed to focus on my art, my friends, and anything but him.

  The girls were going to set me up on another date soon. With someone that wasn’t my past haunting me. Maybe if I told them why I couldn’t be with Nathan, they would understand. I was just afraid that they would push me away once they learned that I had been hiding such an important fact about myself. I cleaned up my area and then went to the other side of my house that was less studio and a little more me.

  I had purchased the place a few years ago when I returned to Colorado. I hadn’t finished my economics degree when I was forced to move back to California. But I had gotten a business degree. That way, I could run my business, even if my line of work had nothing to do with what my parents wanted me to do.

  I worked hard and fell into the hobby my mother always joked about. But now I was an artist that people sought out, even if I wasn’t at the highest level of the industry as some around me were. But I would get there. Or I would keep trying until I did.

  Because this was my passion. And in a world where people’s passions were pulled from them so they could focus on what others wanted, I knew I was privileged. I knew the only reason I could work as I did and focus on my art and charities was because of my trust fund. It was because of the privilege I had been raised with.

  I pulled my hair from the clip at the back of my head, my blond hair brushing the tops of my shoulders. I had recently cut off a few more inches, and I liked the look, even though I kind of missed being able to braid it over my shoulder.

  My house had four bedrooms—one I used for an office, a guest bedroom, and a little reading nook I made for myself. The studio attachment had been for another artist who lived here before I bought the place. It had been like kismet when I found the listing, and I had offered the asking price without a second look.

  I was lucky, and I loved my home. It was all light colors, creams with greige, reclaimed wood and metal. It was nothing like the ornate opulence and wealth-induced creativity that I had been born into. My parents had never once set foot into this home. They would hate it. That had only been part of my decision to buy it. The idea that this place was just me had been the main reason.