Chapter 7
Ryan
O scar and Stella together was not the combination I needed to get into this right away, but I guess we were doing it. I found the two of them at the side of the resort, at the edge of the beach volleyball court that was empty right now, Stella complaining about something, and Oscar’s eyes gleamed at the sight of me, waving. Judging by their outfits, they’d been swimming in the morning, which meant Mom had probably gone swimming too, which meant she was probably around here somewhere. Right when I really needed a private conversation with her.
“I was wondering if you’d come back,” he said as I approached, and Stella whipped her head up to see me, shooting me an incredulous look.
“There you are. Where the hell did you go?”
“I told you. I was visiting someone. How’s everything been?” I said, sidling up next to the two of them, shielding my eyes against the bright, clear sunlight. Oscar answered with all the easy, relaxed energy that Stella didn’t have.
“Yeah, pretty good. Helena wanted to go swimming first thing, so we woke up and had some quick snacks at the café and hit the beach, me and her, Stella, Mom and Dad, Nicole… well, Mom stayed on the beach reading.”
“Mom stayed on the beach because she’s in an awful mood,” Stella said. “And she was specifically mad about you, Ryan. What did you do that you had to go run away from everything for? And who’s this friend you’re visiting?”
“Her name’s Brooklyn. She’s really nice. Works at the bar here. Let me know that Shane tried to cheat on me with her, and let me stay the night with her when he got pissed off about me dumping him and wouldn’t let me stay the night here.” I paused. “She makes a damn good pizza.”
Stella’s jaw dropped, eyes wide. “He cheated on you? And you went and hung out with the homewrecker?”
“Hardly a homewrecker… she didn’t sleep with him in the end because she realized he had a girlfriend, so she called it off and tracked me down to tell me. So. That happened. Where’s Mom now?”
Oscar whistled low, hands in the pockets of his swim trunks, shoulders hunched. “Damn. Guess we jinxed it, huh? Sorry, uh… sorry about that.”
“Oh my god—” Stella pinched the bridge of her nose before she turned away, her hands up. “This is what I’m talking about! I was telling you, you let him wander off on his own devices that much, this is going to happen!”
“Hm,” I said, my voice like sucking on a lemon. “Well, you’ll be delighted to know it’s not his first time.”
She wrinkled her nose at me, cringing. “He’s been cheating?”
“Yup.”
“What a fucking asshole. This is why you don’t date players. They’re never really reformed.”
I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. “Where’s Mom? I’m assuming Shane got to her to tell her his version of events…”
“Mom’s in her room,” Oscar said. “Getting ready for the proper breakfast.”
“Where’s Shane? ” Stella said. “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind.”
I put a hand up. “Please don’t. I know you’re trying to make the situation better, but please don’t. I’m going to see Mom before we go out.”
Stella rolled her eyes with a sharp, pointed sigh. “What, are you going to be polite now? Try not to start something? I’m going to find him. God dammit—I’m so pissed off, like I knew this was going to happen.”
“Stella, please , ” I sighed, stepping back. “Thanks for the support. Just don’t… make things worse with Shane. I’m… I’m going to talk to Mom now.”
“I’m sorry he’s such a piece of shit,” Stella said, folding her arms and giving a dirty look just past me, like she was seeing Shane’s specter there. “I’m glad you dumped him. I knew this was going to happen. I can’t believe he’d already been cheating.”
“What’s happening?” A voice I didn’t need right now came approaching from behind, and I turned with my heart heavy to where my aunt Helena Saxton came up the side of the path, dressed in a light, flowy maxi dress with a floral pattern and a wide-brimmed hat, and she stopped with a wide-eyed look at me. “Oh, god, Ryan. I thought you’d up and run away from us all. How long have you been back?”
“Just got back,” I said, trying to sidestep her. Aunt Helena’s input was the last thing I needed right now. “Going to go see Mom about some stuff.”
The heavens had it out for me today, because Stella cut in when I needed her to least, with, “ Some stuff being Shane fucking cheating on her.”
“Stella,” I groaned, a hand to my forehead. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
Aunt Helena laughed, once, short, sharp, confused. “Is this all some kind of joke?”
“Yes,” I said, cutting in as fast as I could. “Stella’s just having some big feelings. Please ignore her.”
Stella gestured to me. “She just dumped Shane’s sorry ass because he was trying to sleep with the bartender.”
Oscar shot her a look. “Stella, do you listen?”
Helena looked aghast between me and Stella, and I felt like sinking into the earth. I guess we were having this conversation now. Right here in public, with Stella to provide commentary. Helena said, “I’m sure this is all some kind of mistake. Shane loves you desperately.”
I stood up taller, drawing in a tight breath trying to keep myself under control, and I said, in a tight, measured voice, “Shane admitted it to me himself, so I’m inclined to believe him. Brooklyn told me he’d been taking her back to his room until she realized a couple was staying there, so she tracked me down and told me. It’s pretty damn clear what’s going on here.”
Helena scowled at me, like this was my fault. “Was this really the best time for all this?”
Stella came to my aid, at least. “What are you talking about? It’s not Ryan’s fault he cheated on her now.”
“I understand everyone has relationship issues,” Helena said, “but making a scene out of it as soon as we finally get the family together and we’re on vacation—”
For once, for just a moment, Stella was my favorite person in the world, because she shot Aunt Helena a look and said, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Helena looked like she’d pass out. “ Stella. Don’t use that kind of language here.”
“ Ryan’s not the one making a scene if it’s Shane sneaking around and trying to fuck the bartender—”
“He didn’t sleep with her,” Helena said. “Your husband is going to think about other women sometimes, and it’s never good for anyone involved, but you can’t lose your cool about it.”
Well, that was a grand old insight about her husband James that I did not need. Stella continued throwing fuel on the fire before I could recover and find words for that. “It’s not even the first time he’s cheated on her.”
“Still, communication is important,” Helena said. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation here.”
“I don’t want to be,” I snapped. “I want to go talk to my mother now.”
“We’re only having this conversation because—” Helena started, but Oscar cut in, finally, a hand in the air.
“Look, great conversation and all, but if nobody wants to talk about this, can we drop it? If we’re going to start shouting at each other, I want to put a shirt on first.”
Helena looked red-faced between us, like we were tormenting her just for the fun of it. “You bring this conversation up, and now you want to yell at me about having it?”
Stella shook her head, muttering, “Conversation is a strong word for coming in here trying to gaslight someone about her boyfriend cheating on her.”
“I’m not saying it’s okay to cheat,” Helena said, her voice getting high. “Of course it’s not! But there’s a time and a place to do something about it! This is just reflecting badly on everybody and ruining the entire trip—”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to make this like it’s Ryan’s fault,” Stella said, and I shouted—shoved out a sound sharp all around the edges that scratched my throat.
“That’s enough, ” I said. “I’m going. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Ryan,” Helena chided, but I stormed past her, my stomach churning with a deep, sick weight. I was doubly grateful Brooklyn had given me food… I’d be dry heaving if I were doing this on an empty stomach. Plus, at this rate, I doubted I’d be going to breakfast with everyone, so—might have been on my own to figure out a meal.
The resort felt strange, foreign around me suddenly, like I’d forgotten the layout of the place, and marching through it felt like I was in a dream where I couldn’t move quite right. I didn’t even give a damn that Shane and I weren’t together anymore. We hadn’t been very affectionate with each other because he was just kind of there, and I could see it all in perfect clarity the second I walked out of suite 36 a single woman last night. But suddenly being turned against my own family wasn’t what I needed.
I took the stairs up two at a time to get to the floor Mom’s and Dad’s suite was on, and I knocked hard on the door, pounding on it a few more times than I needed to before I leaned against the doorframe, weary down to my soul. I was an expert in hard conversations. Came with the territory. Whether that was trying to console somebody about a relative who’d just died tragically and senselessly or trying to get an incriminating statement out of somebody we all knew was behind the suspicious budget reallocation but had played their hand well—I was comfortable having hard conversations.
But here I was, a little kid trying to admit to her mommy that she’d spilled juice on the carpet.
The door swung open to where Mom stood in the doorway with a frustrated expression that turned soft and sympathetic when she saw me, and she put an arm out for a hug.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Just fine.” I stepped in to meet her hug as shallowly and lightly as I could, a ghost tap on her shoulder before I stepped back. “Just wanted to let you know Shane and I aren’t together anymore. Didn’t want to do it right now, but—”
“Sweetheart, please, come inside, sit down,” she said, rushing me off my feet and into the room—she moved so quickly I couldn’t really do anything about it other than walk where she directed me and sit down on the ottoman in front of the bed. Dad was out right now, apparently. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
“I’m just letting you know we’ll have to work out the situation of who’s staying where, because we can’t—”
“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” she said, shutting the door behind me and pulling the armchair closer to sit down close to me. “Shane came around and talked to me last night.”
I grimaced. “Ah… and what did he say?”
“He told me everything, about getting too friendly with the girl at the bar, the whole fight. He was really worried about you after you walked out, and he wanted you to know that he’s really sorry and he’d never really do anything behind your back.”
I tented my hands in my lap. So that was his version of events, huh? He’d just gotten a little too friendly with the bartender, maybe flirted a little, and I got jealous and fought with him and walked out, and he was trying his best to make amends. “I see,” I said, finally. “He didn’t mention the other times where he actually did go through with it, then, huh?”
She frowned. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Shane is a gentleman. He would never do that.”
“He told me himself,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice level. I didn’t do too hot. “Told me it was my fault for not being good enough for him anyway, so he had to go get it from other people.”
She shook her head, lips drawn tight. “Ryan, honey… people say all kinds of things when they’re stressed, confronted. Shane’s just frustrated with how things have been ever since you quit your job.”
“We’re not bringing that into things,” I said, heat creeping up my throat, clenching my hands as my voice strained. “This started long before my career change, before you try telling me I deserved it because I switched to a career you don’t like.”
She frowned. “You don’t need to attack me. I’m trying to help you—”
“I don’t want help. I wanted you to know that Shane and I aren’t together. Should I still go to breakfast with you all, or should I leave you to it?”
“Well, of course we want to have you,” she said. “Shane will be there, too, though, you know. I know this is a rough spot, but I want to help you two figure this out, because he’s just so good—”
“Oh, he’s good,” I said, standing up, my blood hot in my ears. “And I’m not?”
She stood with me, her face red. “That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not. I’m repeating what you said. He’s good. Not the relationship, not our future, he’s good. Not me, him. Even after he’s cheated on me, he’s good. I—” I stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. “Sorry. I’m losing my temper. But I stand by it. I feel like you care about him more than you do about me ever since I changed careers.”
She pursed her lips, eyes shimmering. “ Ryan. How could you say that? Of course I care about you. Just because I disagree with you quitting your job at the height of your career doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
“Don’t know. Maybe I can leave it to you to work out why I might feel that way,” I said, my voice quivering as I turned back to the door. “I changed my mind. Don’t think I’ll be at dinner with everyone. Feel free to tell everyone, or not. I don’t feel like having this conversation with anyone else.”
“Ryan, you’re being immature,” she said, taking a step after me. “I know this is hard, but it’s only going to end up badly if you let it.”
I was being immature—not with Shane, but by walking out of the room without another word, shutting the door behind me, and I clenched my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms.
Kept doing it all the way back to my room, where I prayed desperately that Shane wouldn’t be there, and thank god, I got my wish—the room was quiet and empty, and I finally unclenched my hands, where I’d left long, thin imprints from my fingernails in my palms, and I let that sensation of pain stinging in thin lines distract me from the hard, heavy thoughts as I gathered my things.
Good things never lasted, though. I was in the middle of shoving clothes from the dresser back into my suitcase when I heard the door beep, and I looked up with a heavy feeling at where the handle turned and it pushed inward, Shane’s face suddenly like a stranger’s as he stepped inside, going through a hundred different expressions in an instant.
“Ryan—there you are. Where did you go all night long?”
“What do you want?” I was sounding petulant today. Maybe for the best. He dropped down on the chair close to where I knelt at my suitcase, and he leaned in towards me, brows knotted. He did a good job acting, looked genuinely worried.
“It’s dangerous to just go and wander around with no one knowing where you are. Did you get a hotel?”
“Stayed with Brooklyn, actually,” I said, not looking at him. He paused.
“Who—I don’t know who that is.”
I snorted. “Didn’t even get her name? The bartender you tried to sleep with. Honestly,” I said, throwing my last pair of pants into the suitcase and swinging it shut, and I turned to him with a tart look, “I can’t fault you on taste. She’s hot. I’m sure you’re disappointed you missed out.”
He frowned. “You stayed the night in a stranger’s house?”
“A stranger?” I laughed, thin and high-pitched. “Not a stranger to me. I even know her name, which was more than you had before you tried to sleep with her.”
He wrung his hands, jaw clenched. I should probably have been afraid. I knew the statistics—the most dangerous thing a woman could do was leave a man. He was an attractive, well-off man with good connections and a charm difficult to resist. I could see the way the headlines would paint it, how a fit of passion prompted by his jealous and controlling partner forced his poor, innocent hands to hit me. Still, for some reason, I wasn’t afraid. Guess I wasn’t surprised—I’d done a whole series on domestic abuse and women who escaped, and those women were tigers, nothing in the universe that could shake them. Shane was only a portion of what they had to go through, but I guess that meant I got a portion of the steely resolve they had. And a portion was enough.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean last night. I just couldn’t believe you’d think things like that about me, that you’d suspect something like that from me—”
“Shane, leave it,” I said, sighing as I stood up. “We weren’t happy with this. Go have what you want, do what you want. Find someone better for you. There’s no saving this, but it doesn’t have to be ugly.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’d had too much to drink and I lost my head. I’m an idiot, but I’d never go further than that. You’re incredible—I wouldn’t trade out an intelligent, creative and hardworking woman like you for some random girl at the bar.”
I felt like he’d slapped me, and I crossed my arms. “I want you to take that back.”
He frowned. “What—Ryan, I was complimenting you.”
“Brooklyn’s twice the woman you deserve.”
He shook his head, looking incredulously at me. “See, this is why I’m worried. She’s a random woman you don’t know anything about, but you’re putting all this trust in her just because…”
“Just because she’s more honest than you are? Because she’s the one who helped me when you hurt me?” I bent over to zip up my suitcase, and I stood it up, popping the handle out. “I’m not talking to you again until you take it back, at minimum. So… enjoy your vacation.”
“Ryan, what are you talking about?” He stood up with me, turning after me as I walked past him towards the door, suitcase rolling with me. “Will you stop? You’re being immature.”
That seemed to be the consensus. Especially since I didn’t give him a response, either—but then again, I had told him that I wasn’t talking to him again until he took back what he’d said about Brooklyn, so I think it held up just fine, as I walked quietly out of the room.