by Ellie Danes
“Here.” He placed a green drink and two pills on the table.
“What is that?” I asked as I lifted the pills and tossed them in my mouth like it didn’t matter what he was giving me.
“Those were ibuprofen, and this is my hangover mix.” He smiled as he pulled the chair out beside me and rubbed my back. I wasn't sure why him doing that made me feel better, but it did.
If I had learned anything in the few short relationships I’d been in, it had been to find a man who would protect my heart and not just take it. If I was honest, he had taken it that night at the craps table, but my mind had taken a little longer to catch up. Now, it seemed he was working on protecting it, too.
I lifted the green concoction to my mouth and took a sip. Bitter. I scrunched my face.
“Trust me.” He put his finger on the bottom of the glass and tipped it up. I took three big gulps and set the glass block on the table. “It's better if you down it all at once.”
I grimaced as I tried to clear my mouth of the aftertaste.
“Give it an hour, and you’ll feel better,” he assured me. He stood and reached for my hand. I followed him to the couch and fell down onto his lap. I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck, and he rubbed my back. It felt so good, I fell asleep in his arms and woke an hour later feeling less like death than I had before.
“Feeling any better?” he asked as he lifted my chin to look me in the eyes.
“Amazingly, I do. Not a hundred percent, but better.”
“Good. I have a press conference in about an hour. I’d like for you to go with me, but I completely understand if you don't feel up to it. Peyton called about twenty minutes ago to give me the heads up. Tristan will meet me there. Apparently, Amy has been working on a few things and would like to get some face time with you.”
I lifted my head from his chest and put my feet on the floor. “Do I have time to shower?”
“Yes.” He smiled and helped me toward the bedroom. “If we had more time, I would join you, but you know how that will end.”
I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows. “Yes, yes I do. And you’re giving me a raincheck,” I laughed, grabbed some clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tristan
“Where the hell is he?” I shouted at Peyton.
“He’s on his way, five minutes out,” she answered without looking up from her phone.
“Can you not talk to Drake for five minutes and actually do your job?” I said to her.
Amy slapped me on the arm and gave me a stern look.
“I need to go over what he can and cannot say with him,” I said in defense. “You know as well as I do that they’ll ask about the next fight, and we can’t answer any questions until we know for sure exactly what we’re going to agree to.”
“Tristan, let me do my job.” Peyton glared at me. “I already have a list, and I’ve sent it over to him. He’ll be prepared when he gets here. Also, Zoey is coming with him, so Amy can talk to her.”
“Great,” Amy said. “I have some ideas and want to pick her brain before we go further with the clothing line.”
Ryder came in the door, his hand folded into Zoey’s. It reminded me of yet another topic I needed to talk to him about—Zoey and what her presence would do. He didn't care, but he needed to hear it from me before the media jumped her.
“Can I get a minute?” I asked as he walked over. He took his hand from hers and extended it out to me.
“Yeah.” He looked over at Zoey and winked at her before walking away with me.
“So, we have to get real for a minute,” I told him.
“About?”
“Zoey.”
“Not your business,” he said.
“Your relationship may not be my business, but preparing you for what is to come is my business.”
“I'm not sure what you’re talking about.” He looked me over.
“It's not so much you that I’m worried about. It’s her. Which will lead me to being worried about you. I need you to be focused, and if for any reason the media goes after Zoey, you’ll be distracted. If we get this Pay-per-view fight, you need no distractions. I think we’re on the same page there. If for any reason they decide to pick her apart, how is she going to handle that? Have you thought about it?”
“They won't.”
“And you know this why?” I questioned him.
“Because I’m not your other clients. I'm not that important.”
“You’d be surprised after last night. I just want us on the same page.”
He nodded and I took that as him understanding the point I was trying to make. I turned and walked back toward the others who had gathered for the press conference.
Ryder walked up on stage and answered as many questions as he could, Peyton stepping in when needed. The press behaved until one finally asked about Zoey. Ryder was vague about the questions and asked for his personal privacy. One particular reporter didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He kept asking. Ryder did well, and I was surprised that he didn't get upset. He kept his cool and stopped addressing that reporter altogether.
Once we were done, we set off to find the girls and found them over a drawing tablet as they conferred over designs. They were looking at other fitness wear and discussing how to make it better. Watching Amy talk to Zoey about logos and marketing made me realize she had more talents than I knew about.
“Hey, all done?” Zoey asked as she shut down the tablet.
“Yes, you guys wanna grab some lunch?” Amy asked. “Zoey and I were talking about maybe going to that chicken place down near the Wynn. It has chicken and waffles.”
Her love of food was as infectious as her smile, and before I knew it, I was smiling back at her.
“Chicken and waffles it is,” I agreed.
Forty-five minutes later we were sliding into a booth at the restaurant. We ordered, then sat back and chatted about nothing.
Zoey and Amy gabbed about the newest shoe fad and laughed at how uncomfortable they must be. Ryder watched Zoey as she talked. He smiled when she did. I knew that he was in love with her, but I didn't understand how it happened as fast as it did. They had only known each other a short period of time, but they already acted like they’d been together for years.
I admitted, I was a touch jealous. I wanted to have that type of carefree relationship and not all the stresses that Amy and I faced. It often felt like we’d started our relationship already being parents. We didn't get much quality time together. Granted, my work took up a lot of my time, but so did being a surrogate parent.
Amy was busy with work just like I was, and if she wasn't at work, she was working from home or with her sister. The grown-up stresses bled into our relationship, and it showed. It was good to see Amy with another woman, enjoying a few hours of peace, talking about shoes, clothes, and the things they did for fun. She didn't have to talk about her sister or work. She didn't reach for her phone even once other than to show Zoey a picture. She was free the entire time we were in the restaurant, and it reminded me what kind of woman she really was, and how lucky I was to have her.
After we’d eaten, we walked down the strip and took in the sights and sounds of Vegas. Some of the sights and sounds weren’t so great. We came across two homeless men arguing.
“It's my sock!” the bearded one shouted.
“No, I found it first.”
“Yeah, right off the top of my bag.” The bearded guy stepped closer. They’d been drinking, and it was obvious by the sway in their steps and the slur to their words.
“You want it, fine!” the other shouted, and then rubbed it all over his crotch.
Ryder burst out laughing and tugged Zoey around them.
We also saw a guy walking down the strip in a bra and boxer shorts. If there was one thing about Vegas, it was that alcohol was everywhere and it showed. There were normal groups of bachelor and bachelorette parties walking by, and large groups of college kids. For the firs
t time in my life, I felt a little out of place. Other than the annual bash I held for Tristan Enterprises, I had never been a party animal. I’d often dipped out of parties in college to study. I was too driven to be pulled away for nonsense. Looking back now, I should have partied it up when I had the chance.
“Where’d you go?” Amy asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Just thinking about all the things I missed in college.”
“I get it. I feel like I missed a ton, too, but it's okay. I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't.” She reached for my face and brought my mouth down to hers. It was a soft kiss, one that held many promises for the future. I looked into her eyes and wanted to take away every stress she’d ever faced. Make everything better. Could I? Could I be that man? I wanted to be that man for her, but I also knew myself and I wasn't going to make promises that I wasn’t sure I could keep.
She understood my work and how important it was, but would she still feel that way after we were serious? What if we made it to the point of marriage? So many of my friends had lost the freedom to really do this job after marriage, and I wasn't willing to do that. I was constantly on the move, flying from city to city. There was always another person to talk to, to woo. Even if I had more time, I would invest it in the company.
“I'm not asking for more from you,” she said as if she were reading my mind. A skill that, in and of itself, was more than any woman had ever been able to accomplish. It was terrifying and relieving all at the same time.
“I know. And I do want to talk about that at some point, but not here. Not now. Okay?”
She nodded and took my hand, walking faster to catch back up with Zoey and Ryder.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryder
I was living the dream—my dream, at least. I had a title fight coming up and a woman I adored. If someone had told me six months ago this would be happening, I would have laughed and walked away. It wasn’t the professional success that surprised me. It was the woman. I’d been training like hell to get where I was in my fighting career and I’d always known that I would make it eventually. But Zoey . . . she was unexpected. I was so used to the pattern I had been living that I had never really opened up to the possibility of anything else. Before Zoey, it had been nice to have a woman by my side, but to be honest, they’d always been a means to an end.
Truth was, I had been an asshat when it came to women. And now, thinking about Zoey and some man treating her that way made me want to go postal. I had never loved anyone the way I love her, but at the same time, I was terrified that I would fuck it all up.
It wasn’t because my dad hadn’t tried to teach me better. He had. He had talked to me time and time again when I was a teenager about keeping my shit together and about women in general. I remember the speeches about how women were to be cherished and that if my mother were still with us, he would be able to show me. Things like listening when they want to talk and actually hearing what’s going on in their life. He said flowers were nice but not really what women want. He said that women weren’t so different from men—they want attention and they want to feel important. They want someone who notices things and does something about it. Someone who’s there when they need a shoulder.
I really hadn’t thought I’d been paying much attention to him at the time, but it was all coming back to me. While a lot of my dad’s advice had been about marriage, it was still good advice. Advice that, for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to heed.
And so, I ordered dinner while Zoey was in the shower.
“What’s that?” she asked when she appeared in the kitchen, still wrapped in a towel.
“Dinner.”
“Smells amazing. What did you order?” She tried to peer over my shoulder.
“Something I know you like.” I smiled and brought the tray around between us. She smiled and lifted the lid to expose a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.
“How did you...” She covered her heart with her hand.
“I pay attention.”
“I’m pretty sure I only mentioned it once.”
“Maybe.” I winked and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
I thought back to the conversation about her parents and how she smiled through the tears and said that if she could have one thing from childhood back, it would be the family meals. The grilled cheese and tomato soup nights. How through all of her adulthood achievements, she missed those meals the most. I wanted to start giving her those meals. Meals that were nothing more than an hour or so of conversation about the day. Not a complaining platform but about the day in general.
She told me how her roommate, Annette, complained nonstop at meals and Zoey would always flick on a TV show so she didn't have to hear it. I wanted to change that for her, and I knew those family meals had been important to her.
I watched as she ate, stealing glances my way and smiling.
“I love you, ya know that?” She smiled.
“Love you back.”
“You have absolutely no idea what this means to me.”
“I have a clue. So, let's talk about the day. You pretty much already know mine, so let's talk about yours.”
“Well, Amy and I talked about the clothing line and looked at a lot of different options for going forward. There are so many different things we can do. How do you feel about it?”
“Loose fitting and absorbent. That's it.”
“So, pink is good?” She grinned.
“I don't care about the color. I’m all about function.” I winked at her. She flushed and looked down at her soup. “Hey, what?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously? I’m supposed to believe that?” I asked.
“It's just that . . . Annette has told me some things about you.” I wasn't sure where how the conversation had gone in the direction it had turned, but it wasn't something I wanted to talk about at the moment. I wanted to have a dinner that wasn't stressful and most certainly not about my past. I knew better than anyone about my reputation, I also knew how bad it looked. But, whether I wanted to discuss it or not, it was going to have to happen at some point.
“How long have you been sitting on this?”
“I don't know. This was so sweet of you, and I don't want to ruin it, but I feel like I need to address it.”
“Okay, well, let's address it.” I sat back in my chair and tried to keep the disappointment at the change in my plans from showing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zoey
The look on his face was more than enough to let me know he wasn’t expecting me to ask about his past. Granted, right after he’d been so sweet and considerate might not have been the best time to bring it up, but it needed to be talked about. Ever since Annette had looked him up and given me the blow by blow of his history with women, it had been in the back of my mind and it was slowly eating away at me.
I knew I should let it go, but after my last relationship, I had my share of trust issues.
Annette knew my history. She knew my ex had cheated on me and that I had been the one who’d caught him. She was just being a good friend and didn't want me to be surprised if something from Ryder’s past came into play. Her intentions were honorable, but the things she had shown me were now branded on my brain, and I couldn’t block them out.
He had no clue I even felt this way, and a part of me wasn't sure I wanted him to know. I had said that I was in this, and I was, but I was also feeling a little insecure. I wanted to let him in on my insecurities before they showed themselves at another key moment. He knew that I was worried about other women, because I’d done a damn good job of proving that in New York, but there hadn't been another situation.
I didn't want him to lose his fans, but I wasn’t crazy about half-naked women hanging all over him asking for autographs, either. It was a double-edged sword—one I wasn't completely sure I would ever one hundred percent be able to withstand. I wanted to let it go. I wanted to be over it
, damn it. Which was another reason I needed to address what I was feeling.
I took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and tried to start what I knew was going to be a difficult conversation . . . for me, anyway.
“Okay. I know that we talked briefly about this once before and that you made it clear I am your first choice. It’s just, knowing what I know about your past, I worry that I won't be enough for you.” I held up my hand when he tried to interject. I needed to get this out. “No, please let me finish. I know you are a man who likes, or liked, lots of women and the last thing I want to do is judge you for your past choices when it comes to relationships. But I worry that my insecurities are going to get the better of me and ruin this, and that terrifies me. I don't want my friends to constantly feel like they need to tell me what you’re doing. I want them to know that I already know who you are, and I don't know how to get there. I love you, and I want this, I want you to know that. This isn't about us—this is about me. I need you to know where my head is.”
I took a deep breath, and signaled that I was ready to hear what he had to say.
“Okay, first of all, don't ever discount yourself again, especially not in front of me.” He looked at me seriously. “You are my choice. You’re the one I want in my life. I get that my life is filled with crazy situations that you might not always be comfortable with, but I’ll do my best to never allow myself to be in a situation that you have to worry about me and what I’m doing. I’m not going to make promises that I will never be stupid, but I will try my best to always be aware of your feelings.”
He moved from sitting in his chair to the floor right next to me, on his knees.
“Zoey, I want you, but I don't want to have to keep letting you know that you are it for me. I will continue to show you, but I hope you can start trusting me.” His smile was soft and genuine, and I pushed myself from the chair and into his arms.
“I don't want you to think I’m seeking attention. I just want to be honest with you at all times,” I said as I leaned in and kissed him softly. These may not be conversations I wanted to have, but they were ones I needed to have. As he became a bigger name on the circuit, I knew what would happen. Women would continue to throw themselves at him and I would have to trust him to be faithful. I supposed I needed to hear him say it again.
