by Grea Warner
His grumble was pure frustration. “I know you got my texts. You need to give me a chance.”
Something about the ache in his tone and the pleading in his word choices made me at least not move any further or take out my phone to get an Uber. A lot of me, after all, didn’t want to leave. A lot of me wanted to listen. But there was still a part of me that didn’t want to be broken. That Bethany was the one who was mentally reaching for the doorknob.
Most likely figuring my silence was better than an alternative, he spoke candidly again. “Do you really think I had any part in that? Bethany? After all you’ve seen, after all I’ve talked with you about, after ... us?” It was amazing how intensely he could look at me.
The fact was, I didn’t think he had any prior knowledge or desire for the kiss with Kari. I knew that deep down. But there was so much more tied into it.
“I don’t,” I admitted and tried to put into words what I was feeling. “But I’m not going to tell you it doesn’t hurt, and I ... Ryan? I don’t know how much I’m supposed to put up with.” Darn it, I could feel the tears burning beneath my eyes ... the ones I had been holding bravely in until then.
“Okay. Listen.” He was calmer. “What isn’t trending—but would be if anyone was privy to it—is how I went absolutely ballistic on her afterward ... at her car. She was just going to leave because she knew I was going to be mad. I have no idea why she is acting the way she is—all these ups and downs—but I’ve had it. No, you shouldn’t have to put up with any of this crap, and neither should I. I pulled her aside and gave her the ultimatum right then. We either came up with a date to announce the divorce or I was marching right back into the studio, finding any press I could, and telling them right then and there.”
That was a little more to take in than I had expected. “And?” I cautiously got out.
“She scoffed, but then she talked with Voight.”
I tilted my head a little toward his in anticipation of an answer. “Mmmm-hmmm?”
“May fourteenth. She already has interviews set up for her album release. She’ll do it then. The right angle and it will probably add to sales. I don’t care. Just so it’s done.”
And while it was news I most definitely wanted to hear, I had also learned my lesson before about counting chickens. “Are you for sure this is legit?” I asked. “I mean she ju—” But I didn’t want to think of what had led to our topic of discussion.
“She seemed resigned to it. Actually, oddly mellow. And I talked with Voight, too. Like he told me before, he had just been waiting for her to say the word.” Ryan was still walking on eggshells because he knew my heart was just as fragile. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I let her even kiss me. I wasn’t expecting it, and I’m asking you to please believe me and know it actually turned out to be kind of a good thing.”
My mouth creased on one side. Having your boyfriend’s ex kiss him was never a good thing in my book. I had learned that the hard way, too.
“Two weeks, okay?” he cited the momentous Monday the fourteenth date, only to be interrupted by me looking at my chiming phone. “Bethany, come on, whoever it is, it can wait.”
“It’s my sister. I called Garrett for his birthday, and he wasn’t picking up. So, I texted her to see what was going on.”
I hadn’t wanted to phone my parents, knowing, if that was the case, I would be in for a lengthy conversation. I figured I could get a quick text response from Ella. Since it was already the first of May, I knew she was busy studying for her collegiate final exams. She was doing that at my parents’ home, having moved back early from the nearby campus to save money for her own apartment and to concentrate on graduating with good grades. At least she was finishing college better than high school.
“Uh-huh.” Ryan seemed distracted, but I knew it was only because he wanted to get back to the topic at hand.
BDay boy crashed early. Too much cake. Or maybe he’s tired from all the smooching w/the new girl at school. When are you going to get some, BTW? All those beach bods out there. Mmmm. My sister’s text was followed by a GIF of a shirtless man on the beach.
Ella played her role as middle child to the classic hilt. She liked to be portrayed as the woe-is-me girl who never got any attention because she had two sick siblings. That was far from the truth. First of all, my allergy was quite manageable. And Garrett only got sick a few years before. Plus, Ella actually had her own medical drama, which was serious but short-lived and had no real long-term ramifications.
The truth was, Ella was ... Ella. She got her attention in all the bad ways. She was the one who cut class, drank underage, and was lucky she was even in college after a poor report card her senior year of high school. All of which, for the most part, she managed to hide from our parents. And even though she was good at keeping quiet and we had a true sisterly bond—that wasn’t just our same colored hair and similar eyes—I didn’t want to risk her incidentally blurting out my secrets. That was why she didn’t know anything about Ryan. Maybe when she got serious about someone, she would understand.
I only relayed the part about Garrett to Ryan. “Ella said he crashed—went to sleep early. What kid does that on his birthday?”
“How old?”
“Turned sixteen today.”
“Geez, I slept through most of my teens ... growing pains with growth and hair spurts, voice changing ...”
“For real?”
“Yeah.”
“Good to know.”
“Bethany?” Ryan said my name with a mixture of caution and hope.
I was actually glad for Ella’s interruption. It gave me a chance to process and accept. “Two weeks and then no more secrets.” I said it as a statement. Although, the insecure, pull-the-carpet-out-from-under-your-feet part of me still had it as a question.
“Yeah.”
“I have one request.”
“Okay ...?”
“Kiss me better than you kissed her.”
“Put your bag down, Miss Negotiator.”
I didn’t lose his eyes as I let my bag drop to the floor. He first played with my hair cascading loosely along my face and resting around my shoulders. Then he traced his finger along the side of my cheek where my freckles resided and gave me the most serene, peaceful smile. Before he even pulled me into his torso—which I noted was covered with a black T unlike the one he had worn on TV and kissed her in—I knew, without our lips yet touching, it was already a better kiss. His look and touch alone were more. And he could have stopped right there, but, the soft, magical feathering of his lips just sealed the deal.
***
“Hello?” I answered the phone after the first ring. After all, it was already in my hands.
“Hey, there.”
“Hi.” I was trying desperately to focus on Ryan’s voice. “I thought you said you were going to be in meetings all day. It is Friday, right?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday. And I am.”
“Oh.” I didn’t get much more out. My cluttered mind was in complete contrast to the brilliant sunlight beaming into my tiny dorm-like room.
“Meetings.” Ryan grumbled. “Hate all the committees and jargon. I’d rather just do it. How about you? Is everything all right? You good?”
“Uh ... is everything ...? Uh ... truthfully? No,” I stumbled out my words.
“What’s up?”
“You have a couple minutes to talk?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. They’ll wait. What’s wrong?”
“Those growing pains of my brother’s?”
“Yeah? Sleeping a lot—”
“Yeah, and now his foot is swollen out of nowhere. My mom talked with his pediatrician. They’re concerned. They’re setting up appointments with all kinds of doctors again.”
“The cancer?”
Ryan knew all about the scary time a couple years before when, at thirteen years old, Garrett got extremely tired and couldn’t finish his middle school football practice. He was always a kid who kept going from one thing to
another. Until he didn’t. Since then, my parents only allowed him to shoot noncompetitive hoops in the family driveway. All because of his diagnosis and the desperate time it took to find a bone marrow match for him ... especially since neither of us siblings was one.
“Yeah ... yeah, maybe,” I answered. “I mean, they don’t know. They want to run some tests. I just got off the phone with my mom.”
“You were talking with her right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember they don’t know anything yet. What’s that saying about worrying?”
“It does no good?”
“Yes, but no. There’s an actual quote about a rocking chair. I’ll find it for you. I’d tell you not to worry, but I know that’s not really possible."
“I know. That’s exactly what I told my mom. There’s not a chance in you know where that she’s not going to worry, though. If there was an award for worrying, she would win hands down, even with anxiety meds.”
“Well, good thing she takes them, then. A lot of people need to. If something happened to Joel or Sallie, I might, too. I can’t imagine what your folks are going through right now.”
“Yeah. We were all pretty much a mess last time. My mom was freaking out about everything. And my dad was praying a lot. I felt helpless being away at college ... at least I could drive in every so often to visit. And once Garrett got out of the hospital and things went well, I got the offer to come out here after graduation. I debated because him getting sick made me truly realize how far California is. But then it also made me realize how quickly things can be taken away and to live for the moment and all that.” I took a second to reflect and then knew I needed to refocus. “Sorry. So, why’d you call me in the first place? Simply to get out of your meeting?”
“Ha!” His voice seemed a little lighter at my joke. But then he turned more subdued again. “No. I ... You want to hear something weird?”
“All the time.” I was trying so hard to be myself.
“I was sitting in this meeting, and I had this sudden pang-like thing. I knew something was going on with you.”
“Wha ...?”
What? Like ESP? Like what? He just knew?
“I know ... weird.” He did the slightest of chuckles at himself.
“Huh.” I was still trying to process that one.
“I mean, it could be the raspberry chocolate donut I had.”
“Ry ..."
“That was probably it.” He kept talking. “The weirdness, though—” He stopped himself and then seemed to go off in another direction. “It gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.”
“What? The weirdness does?”
“No. That is the Erma Bombeck quote about the rocking chair and worry. It gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.”
“Ah. Yeah. True.”
It was true. But it still didn’t matter. If we cared about someone, we would rock the darn chair twenty-four seven. Plus, it seemed we would call out of the blue because of a “pang-like” thing.
“Hey, I should get back. I mean, I was actually the one who asked for this meeting. But if you hear anything or need anything, you call.” I liked the kind, concerned, and confident way he spoke.
“I will,” I agreed and then knew I needed to add one more thing. “Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for thinking of or panging or whatever me.”
There wasn’t a chuckle that time, but I felt like I could sense his smile. “Uh-huh. Talk soon.”
***
Even though I was on the internet looking up scary, medical things I knew I shouldn’t be, I was in a little lighter of a mood later that afternoon. For one thing, I was further removed from my mother and the anxiety she would exude when fretting about one of us. For another, I had talked to that insightful, dark-haired man ... who appeared to be calling again.
“Two phone calls in only a couple hours’ time?” I answered Ryan’s call. “What? Did you eat another donut?” He had decided to make light of his pangs, so I walked that comfortable, joking line, too.
“There she is.”
“Huh?”
“When you answered the phone so generically last time, it just confirmed to me that something was wrong. You are never a standard hello.”
“Hmmm.”
Dang, he was killing me with his Bethany insight ... in all the good ways. Or was I just predictable? I mean, how I typically answered the phone was the creative side of me. I had grown up being taught to answer our landline as if it was almost a business—“Opala residence, Bethany speaking.” I realized it was a polite, proper way—just like ladies wearing dresses—but it was one of the things I rejected once on my own.
“Anything more about your brother?” he asked.
“No. We won’t know anything for a while.”
“Do you want some good news?”
“Is there bad news, too?”
“No.” He chuckled, and I imagined him shaking his head. “No quarter needed.”
“Definitely. Lay it on me, then.”
“Can you get off work the twelfth and thirteenth ... and the afternoon of the eleventh?”
I was mentally trying to picture my calendar in my head. But it didn’t matter. If Ryan was requesting it for personal or professional reasons, I would make it happen. “If I need to. I already have off all that time for Carolina, though.”
“You need to,” he said definitively.
“Why?”
“We never got that picnic at the beach.”
That sure was the truth. Just recalling how Kari had dramatically interfered on our beach date and then again on the show revved my temper up. But I decided to take a deep yoga breath and not let him note the agitation.
I went with lighthearted sarcasm instead. “We’re going to picnic at the beach the whole weekend?”
“Napa,” he answered immediately and then, with even more enthusiasm, continued, “Well, just south of ... but really get away. What do you think?” I didn’t realize I hadn’t replied until he prompted me. “Geez, I hate when you don’t answer me.”
I loved, wanted, and needed a getaway with him so much. I don’t think I truly knew it until he proposed the idea. Trying to mask the sudden tears, I came up with a sassy response for my hesitation. “Sorry, I was looking up what to wear in wine country.” Then, with even more excitement, I exclaimed, “Yes! Let me see what I can finagle at work. I might need to bribe and switch with some people, but I’ll make it happen. That sounds so great, Ryan.”
I could hear the joy and ease in his voice, also. “I’m glad. I totally think so, too. Off to another meeting. Call or text me when you get things worked out.”
Chapter Fifteen
Those next several days were exhausting for both of us. I managed to trade days and hours at the coffee house so I could have off for the weekend away and still go to Carolina almost immediately after for a week. But that meant I was working almost every shift if I wasn’t watching Sallie and Joel. And Ryan? He never stopped between the show gearing up for the end-of-the-month finale, his manager job, and the kids. Yet, despite it all, everything was somehow better and more at ease. Falling asleep in each other’s arms on Monday and Tuesday and knowing that Kari’s announcement was taking place directly after our weekend away, our natural bond was growing even stronger.
I was downright giddy on the Friday afternoon we drove to the Napa region, and, in a way, I know my lightheartedness and excitement helped Ryan. While he wanted the time away with me, there was slight apprehension about leaving the kids. Kari, of course, was going to have them. Not only was it the weekend, but it was Mother’s Day weekend. Since we would be gone, she agreed to stay at Ryan’s house so there was less disruption for the kids. And another good thing was, there hadn’t been any more extreme incidents like the daycare pickup scene or even the on-air drama. Kari had remained pretty neutral, even-toned, and quick when exchanging the kids. But Ryan had never left Sallie and Joel.
He had been with the kids—or at least in the same city—consistently since the breakup.
So, when we were en route to wine country, I proposed a humorous Ryan-Bethany way to get his mind in the right mood. “Road trip game. Name a song that has the word ‘wine’ in the title or has to do with wine.”
He turned slightly from his driver’s side and squinted at me. And then in true fashion said, “You first.”
“Why am I always first?” I bellowed with a laugh.
“I’m giving you an easy point. I’m older and know a lot more songs.”
“Phew!” I spit out.
“I’ll even give you a two-song start.”
“I don’t need it, but fine,” I boasted. “‘Red, Red, Wine’ and ‘Strawberry Wine.’ Go!”
“I have ninety-nine of them.”
“What?” I balked incredulously—ten additional years of life did not provide him with that many more songs.
He started to sing, “Ninety-nine bottles of wine on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of wine. Take one down, pa—”
I literally smacked him. “That does not count as ninety-nine! Plus, I think it is bottles of beer.”
He turned his head and did a smirky, sexy smile in my direction. “Thanks, Lenay.”
“For what?” But by the way he softly and appreciatively looked at me, I knew he was very aware of my true intentions with the song game. “You’re welcome. Now, help me not be so nervous about meeting your family.”
We weren’t just going to some B&B or chalet in wine country. We were going to stay in Ryan’s brother’s house. Dylan and his wife were traveling with their only child to a weekend soccer tournament a few hours away. They were letting us use their house at the winery they owned if we would take care of their dog. The vineyard manager and staff would have everything else in order. I loved that Ryan and I could truly be alone together and out of the spotlight of LA. Even more so, I loved the fact that I was going to meet part of his family—that he wanted me to meet Dylan, and that I obviously wasn’t a secret to those close to him.
