by Tina Reber
I opened the door from the hallway into the pub kitchen to see what Tammy was up to. It was a welcome distraction to the breaking and entering we’d just committed. “Hey, Tammy. Smells fantastic in here.”
She was busy adding ingredients into her industrial-sized mixer. “Oh, hey, Taryn.”
“I had to keep the guys from breaking down the door. What are you making that smells so yummy?”
She pointed to a rack. “Cherry tarts right now. Sorry, but I don’t have any extras.”
I eyed the cooling rack with longing and invited her and Pete to join us upstairs for dinner later.
She dusted her hands off on her apron. “Hey, before you go, can I talk to you a minute?” Tammy appeared troubled as she wiped her hands over and over again on a wet rag. “Is everything okay between you and Ryan?”
I wasn’t sure why she was asking. “Yeah. Things are great. Why?”
She tossed the rag into the sink. “I don’t know. Just wondering about the whole Thomas thing. I figured you might be fighting.”
“No. We’re not fighting. There is nothing to fight about.”
“Oh. I just thought he’d be mad about you hugging your ex like that. I figured you told him anyway.”
I felt myself getting slightly defensive. “There was nothing going on between Thomas and me. Melanie has been a friend of mine for years. I hope you don’t think that I was doing something inappropriate.”
“Oh no. No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I know how jealous Ryan is. I thought maybe he was mad and that’s why he came back here.”
“No. He had a break in filming so he came home.”
“Oh, okay. So what’s up with Marie? Is she dating Mike now?” she asked.
I shrugged, wondering why she wasn’t asking Marie these questions. “I’m not sure. They like each other. You do know that Gary has a new girlfriend, right?” Something was up. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“This whole thing is putting us in a very awkward situation,” she said. “I mean, Pete and Gary have been friends for a long time and it’s like we’re being forced to pick sides.”
She definitely caught me off guard. “No one is forcing you to pick sides, Tammy.”
“Well, yeah, they kind of are. We’re getting married in four months and they are both in the wedding party. Pete and Gary have been friends for years. It’s not fair that he’d have to ask him not to come. No one seems to care how it affects us.”
“Tammy, I don’t know what to say. It’s your wedding. Gary made a choice—Marie is just dealing with that. He just locked her out of her own damn house. What kind of man does that?”
“Well, she’s with Mike. Can you blame him?” she snipped.
I was beginning to think she’d lost her damn mind. “How would you feel if Pete locked you out and wouldn’t let you get any of your stuff?”
“I didn’t know he did that. She’s been so busy around here and it’s not like we hang out together a lot when you aren’t around.”
“Everyone’s been dealing with a lot. Trust me. I don’t want you to think that we don’t care.”
“Oh.” She turned to take something out of the oven. “Well, since Ryan is here now, do you think that you can ask him if he’s going to be a groomsman or not? I mean, he hasn’t said anything to Pete and he avoided the topic on Friday when Pete mentioned it. It would be nice to know if I even have a freaking bridal party or not.”
I bristled at her anger. “Yeah, sure. He’s been busy filming a movie so I’m sure he’s not been avoiding anything on purpose. I’ll make sure to ask him to confirm.”
Tammy snorted as if that answer wasn’t good enough. “I’m sure he’s been in a great mood since your ex-fiancé has been coming around. Like he needs that crap.”
Like I needed that crap—or her crap right now for that matter. I was starting to wonder if all this wedding stuff was turning Tammy into a bridezilla. I certainly wasn’t going to become confrontational even though I wanted to.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to running your business. I’ll make sure to get an answer to Pete.”
I didn’t wait to give her an opportunity to respond, hurrying through the door and up my stairs as if the floor were on fire.
Ryan’s unbelievably nice ass was poking out of my open refrigerator door when I found him in my kitchen. “Everything okay?”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my nose in the neckline of his T-shirt. “Can we elope instead?”
Ryan snickered and rubbed my back. “Sure. What brought this on?”
“Planning weddings apparently makes women go insane. I’m pretty sure Tammy’s growing fangs and claws.”
“Oh. That sucks. Is it contagious?”
“God, I hope not.”
He whispered in my ear, “You can always hire a wedding planner to do that shit for you.”
My head popped off his chest when I heard a loud crash and Marie’s high-pitched yell for help coming from the spare room. I found her surrounded by a few boxes and a whole lot of crap spilled out around her feet—clothing, books, and a slew of old videocassette tapes.
“Sorry,” she pleaded, still holding a box from tipping off the top shelf in the closet. I had to laugh at her panicked expression. “I tried to move one and they all came crashing down.”
Mike took the box out of her hands.
“Are these boxes full or what?” Ryan asked, opening one of them.
I folded up one of my mom’s old sweaters and set it aside, trying to clear a path. “That’s all of your fan mail from the last few weeks, hon. You need to either go through it or we need to pitch it.”
He looked astounded and confused. “All of this?”
“All of those boxes.” Marie pointed. “Including skanky underwear, sappy praise, and more death threats.”
He turned on her, and then turned his questioning glare on me. “Death threats?”
What could I say? As sick as it was, it wasn’t anything new. Several thousand of his fans hated that he was with me.
Some unspoken message passed between Ryan and Mike before Ryan cursed and then hauled one of the boxes out to my living room.
I boxed up all of the videos, noting that my name was written on the majority of them. Memories.
Childhood memories. Memories that Dan and Jennifer Mitchell made for me.
Without even thinking, I grabbed the box of tapes and sat on my living room floor in front of the television, pressing the tape marked “Fourth of July 1986—Taryn 4 yrs old” into the aging VCR.
Ryan sat on the ottoman behind me. “Look at you! All curly blond ringlets.”
I smiled at my innocent babbling about swimming with my Barbie doll, pushing my oversized sunglasses up my sun-kissed nose. I had on a little pink one-piece swimsuit with a blue fish on the hip.
Ryan pointed over my shoulder. “Is that? Yeah, that’s your pappy’s cabin.” I saw the familiar gray cinder-block garage behind me.
And then I saw him. Like a ghost out of my innermost thoughts he appeared, coming out of the garage behind me. Tall, thin, and lanky, walking with the stinted lope of a teenager.
There he was, captured forever on film.
The boy with the black hair.
I felt as though someone poured ice through my veins.
Chapter 15
Discoveries
I stared at the television for so long my eyes hurt. It was like he walked right out of one of my nightmares and presented himself to me. Here I am—the one who haunts you.
Ryan had moved behind me after telling Mike and Marie we needed a few minutes of privacy. He sat on the floor, holding me while I quietly broke down again.
I didn’t even realize I was touching my own mouth until I felt Ryan’s hand smooth around my wrist.
“In my dreams, he always has bloody teeth. Just blood—everywhere. I never . . .” It was hard to speak.
“Is that Joe?” Ryan asked softly.
I nodded. “I
think so.” I rewound the tape and paused to see him in still frame but the tape made squiggly lines on the screen, obscuring his face.
I felt Ryan’s lips, his breath on my neck. “Is this one of the things that has you jumping out of bed sometimes?”
“Yeah. All this time, I didn’t know who he was. He’s not in any family pictures. I thought . . . I thought he was someone I made up.”
Ryan slipped the remote out of my hand and pressed play again. The tape rolled on, mostly capturing me playing with beach toys in a round plastic wading pool on the grass. Every so often, Joe would make an appearance, a ghost in the background, lurking, but always keeping an eye on the camera’s direction. I suppose, keeping an eye on me.
“I want to know him.”
Ryan’s hand skated across my face, taking in my plea. “Mike can find him if you want,” he said.
I thought about it for a second. “I want him to want to know me, too. It can’t be one-sided. He’s got to want to know me but it’s been so long—people change.”
Ryan held my face, pressing a soft kiss on my lips, but he was distracted by the heavy thudding of footsteps coming up my stairwell.
I heard Pete’s hearty greeting when Marie let them in.
Ryan crawled around me, pressing the eject button. “You change your mind, just say the word. We can hire someone to track him down. I’ll let you decide if you want to share all of this with them.”
My gaze was locked on the tight skin of his body, graciously exposed when his T-shirt rode up his stomach. It was just the jolt I needed.
Pete instantly scrutinized me and jerked his head for me to follow him to the dining room, where he cornered me. “Red-rimmed eyes. All puffy. You okay?”
Nothing got past Pete.
And I couldn’t lie to him. I gave him a noncommittal head bob while his mouth silently said “bullshit.”
I decided talk therapy was what I needed.
I pulled out a chair and asked Tammy to join us. No sense having to repeat myself. After a string of introductory words, I then uttered the two words that churned like acid in my stomach.
“. . . I’m adopted.”
Ryan closed our bedroom door and peeled his shirt off, exposing a body I’d never get tired of looking at.
“You know I don’t care, right?” His words were as gentle as the eyes that watched me with apprehension.
I’d spent an evening discussing my origins with my friends; it was emotionally exhausting.
“I know.”
“Doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. The only thing I want to know is if you’re going to take my last name when we get married, which I’m hoping to hell you will.”
I blinked at him, processing what he said, and then sort of melted inside. “I had intended to.”
He breathed out a contended sigh and hugged me. “Thank you.”
I heard the toilet flush and Marie’s and Mike’s low murmurs outside our closed door.
“It’s weird having other people here,” I muttered conspiratorially.
“Yeah, I know. I totally love your apartment but I hope you know I don’t want to live above your pub for the rest of our lives.”
“Or listen to Marie giggle before sex.”
“That too,” he chuckled, palming my rear. “You do realize that Mike and I can’t leave here until both of you are bowlegged and glowing, right?”
I grinned. “You should make it a competition. See which one of you folds first.”
Before I could react, Ryan let me go and grabbed the doorknob. “Hallway meeting,” he called out loudly.
I felt instant mortification. “Ryan!”
“Shush.” Ryan crossed his beefy arms, waiting. God, I loved his biceps. Mike came out of the room, sans shirt as well. Damn, he was built like a linebacker who spends his life in a gym, not to mention his chest was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.
“Two things,” Ryan started, holding up his fingers. “You come out of your room for any reason, you put something on. I don’t want to see anyone else’s bare ass other than my woman’s. Number two, Taryn suggests we make a wager on this evening’s festivities.”
“Ryan!”
He pushed me back with his fingertips. “Shush.”
Mike leaned a hand on the door frame. “Wager?”
“First man to fold.”
Mike’s eyes cut to me once, quickly. “Interesting. I’m in. Time or quantity?” he asked as casually as if they were discussing the weather.
“What time is our flight again?”
“Eleven forty-five. We’re gone by nine,” Mike’s deep voice rumbled.
“Time. We can sleep on the plane.”
“Agreed. Bet?”
“Two bills?”
“Sounds fair. Women keeping time?”
“Yep,” Ryan quipped. “Time gets written down so there’s no cheating.”
“Anything else?” Mike asked.
“Nope.”
“What time is it now?”
Ryan leaned around to see my alarm clock. “Ten after eleven.”
I watched as they shook hands.
“Have a good night,” Mike said with a nod.
“You too, man.” Ryan tapped his shoulder and then locked our bedroom door.
Me and my big mouth.
The lascivious glare Ryan gave me instantly made my heart beat faster, warming me in all the right places, effectively distracting me from all of my woes. I was the rabbit and he was the hungry wolf and it was obvious that I was about to be eaten alive. Perhaps this wasn’t a stupid suggestion after all.
He walked with purpose, stalking over to my side of the bed.
Game on.
My alarm went off at eight o’clock. I wanted to hurl it against the wall and smash it to bits. Ryan’s arm was pinning me to the bed and he was out. Even the shrill of the alarm didn’t stir him.
I heard the shower turn on so I hit the snooze button one more time before dragging my butt into the kitchen to make the guys some breakfast.
Marie came shuffling in, rubbing one eye, and mumbled something that sounded like “morning.” “You write your time down?”
“No.”
She stretched. “Damn, my body hurts.”
My body ached, too. I could feel the pain in my hips. “Yep.”
She grabbed a piece of mail off the counter, tore it in half, and grabbed a pen. “Was this shit really your idea?”
I took four coffee mugs out of the cabinet. “I said it as a joke.”
“It was brilliant.” She pushed the torn envelope and the pen toward me. “But I think he broke my vagina.”
I spit out some coffee after that one, staining my envelope piece. I wrote down the last time I looked at the clock: 4:50.
Marie had written 5:10.
“Looks like Ryan’s out two hundred,” I muttered.
Mike came in all fresh and looking mighty fine in a pair of worn jeans and a gray tee that hugged every muscular curve. “Morning, ladies. Who won?” He ran a hand tenderly over Marie’s shoulder.
“You did.” She beamed up at him.
He smiled and kissed her as if they’d been together for years. I didn’t miss his hand possessively palming her butt cheek, either. It made me smile.
“Pay up, shorty,” he teased Ryan when he came into the kitchen.
Ryan motioned for the results. “I lost by twenty minutes?” He groaned and tossed the papers onto the counter. “That’s bullshit.”
I poured a cup of coffee for him. “Sorry, babe.”
“Twenty freakin’ minutes.” He towered over me, giving me the stink eye. “You made me quit, too.”
“Sorry. I was done. You want me to pay half?”
“No,” he grumbled, scowling at me, making me question whether he was truly upset. “I got it. But you owe me and I will collect.”
I followed him into the bedroom, worried. “Are you really mad at me?”
He smirked. “No, babe. I’m just teasing. I
was tired and wiped out, too. It’s okay . . . until I collect what you owe me.” He cracked me hard on the rear.
I sucked in a breath, imagining him collecting. I hated watching Ryan pack. He was always in motion.
Like two sad sacks, Marie and I hugged and kissed them both goodbye in my living room. Marie looked just as forlorn and reluctant to let them go as I was. We stood there for a moment after the door closed
behind them, staring at each other in silence, feeling empty.
“That was the best night of my life,” she uttered. “Thank you for that.”
“I heard you scream a few times.”
Marie rolled her eyes, abashed. “I heard you, too.”
We gave each other a high-five, just because.
She yawned. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m taking my broken vagina back to bed.” I watched her walk funny, doing the “I’ve been fucked hard” swagger down the hallway.
I shuffled behind her, feeling her pain echo in my own sore hips and thighs. “Yep. Me too.”
I crawled my achy body into my cold, empty bed, thinking about how much sleeping without Ryan sucked.
A few days later I was Skyping with Ryan when the separation hit me hard. “I hate being away from you.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t have to be, you know.”
I pulled my fingers back, as if his words had bite. “I know.”
He regarded me for a moment before turning his attention back to the documents in his hand. “Sell it.
Cut yourself free.”
As much as I’d thought about it there were several reasons why I couldn’t. “I can’t. Marie and Tammy rely on me, on this place. I can’t screw my friends like that. Besides, I need to work, Ryan. I’m not good with doing nothing or shopping every day.”
“I need you to manage my life,” he said simply.
“You just don’t want to deal with your mother,” I teased.
He scratched his head, distracted, seemingly frustrated. “That too.”
I frowned at his lack of attention, which then had me tapping my finger on the image of his face, as if that would do the trick.
He finally looked up. “Listen, parties, family gatherings, holidays, vacations, all of that personal stuff is in your realm, Taryn. She wants to throw an engagement party for us—fine. Work it out, block out the dates, and put it on the calendar, and then when you’re done with all of that explain to me what these numbers are on my investment statements because I can’t figure out how I could lose so much in one quarter.”
