Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ripley
Pretty much as soon as the plane wheels touched Seattle tarmac, I regretted my decision. Thea had tried to talk me out of coming here the entire time she drove me to the Myrtle Beach airport—talk about mixed signals.
Maybe it was the nap I had on the flight, or maybe it’s stepping out of the airport and being hit with Washington’s spring chill, but I’m finally seeing how rash my idea was.
What the fuck am I doing here? Why did I just drop $600 on a last-minute ticket to chase down a man who may or may not love me but definitely told me he wasn’t interested—twice?
What am I hoping for? That he’ll open the door and be glad I called his bluff? I do a lot of dumb shit, but this one is really too much, even for me.
The worst realization hits me when a cab pulls up beside me on the curb and the driver asks if I need a ride. I laugh at him, if only to keep from crying. Yeah, straight to the fucking loony bin because I don’t even have his address.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?
He pulls away, annoyed, after I stared at him without answering for an uncomfortably long time. Understandable.
5/12 4:19 p.m.
Me: What is wrong with you?
Delivered
5/12 4:20 p.m.
Thea: ??
Delivered
5/12 4:20 p.m.
Me: Why didn’t you stop me??
Delivered
5/12 4:20 p.m.
Thea: You got there? Good flight?
Delivered
5/12 4:21 p.m.
Me: Why am I here, Thea? I don’t even have his address. Why did you let this happen?
Delivered
I stare at my phone for a minute, wrapping my thin jacket around myself, but she doesn’t reply. I’m about to pick up my backpack and march my ass right back into the airport to spend $600 on another high-altitude nap when my phone beeps with a text.
5/12 4:24 p.m.
Cary: 1500 4th Ave, Apt 8A
Delivered
Fuck. Now I have to go, don’t I? I have to at least see him. I have to know if this was all in my head or if he’s just a scared idiot. We can be scared idiots together. Either way, I need to know.
I take another look at the airport behind me, imagining all the ways I could stop myself from making this a bigger mistake than it already is, but then I grab my bag and wave down a taxi. What’s another bad decision in the long line of them that make up my entire life?
In less than half an hour, the cab deposits me in front of a wedge shaped, multi-story, brick building with a few storefronts at street level. Of course he lives in a high-end building in the middle of the city, the fancy asshole.
Once again, I find myself second-guessing this decision.
I don’t fit here. As much as I like to daydream about moving to a big city, I know I’m not made for it.
Putting the cold weather aside, this is not the place for me.
I like the small-town, community feel of Indigo Hill.
I like knowing everyone in town and their business.
Indigo Hill raised me when my family didn’t.
I have to credit them all for making me who I am and for what I’ve done with RED.
Yes, my relationship with the town is a bit strained right now, but that’s on me. I haven’t even given them a chance to react to what happened at the wedding, instead choosing to hide away and nurse my broken heart alone.
The door to the building opens, and a lady steps out with some sort of poodle mix. They make their way down the sidewalk as I catch the door right before it swings shut.
Oh my God, I’m really doing this, I scream in my head as I get on the elevator and press the button for the eighth floor. I’m still silently yelling at myself as I make my way down his hallway, all the way to door number 8A.
The inner voice—and my breathing—stop when I knock on the door. I probably should have spent less time telling myself I’m dumb for being here and more time figuring out what I’m actually going to say when I’m face to face with Seth.
The thought comes much too late because the door swings open, and I freeze.
I’m met with confused blue eyes. I check the door number again to make sure I have the right one.
But then familiarity strikes, and I lead with, “Wait, you’re the other woman.”
I cringe inwardly as soon as the words leave my lips; I shouldn’t be allowed to interact with people.
Iris’ eyes narrow on me, and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise as she looks me up and down.
I forgot how intimidating she can be, all city-chic and polished with her auburn hair and a stare that feels like it’s peeling you open layer by layer.
“And you’re the one-night stand who apparently can’t take a hint. ”
Ouch, but okay, I deserve that.
“Touché.”
Her stare melts into amusement, and she steps aside to let me in. “Seth’s taking a shower, getting ready. You can wait in the living room.”
I kick off my shoes in the general direction of the door before following Iris down the hall into Seth’s living room.
I’ve imagined his place so many times, and now that I’m standing in his living room I don’t know what to look at first. The big windows are letting in tons of natural light.
The space is tidy and neat—I’d expect nothing less—tastefully decked out with neutral colors and furniture that appears to all be placed in the exact right spot, all ninety degree angles.
The sofa isn’t comfortable, clearly purchased for its style, but I try to sink into one end of it the best I can. Iris sits on the other, propping a socked foot underneath her and grabbing a mug from a coaster on the coffee table. She seems to feel right at home here.
“Do you live here?” I ask.
She smirks and takes a sip of whatever’s in her mug. “No, just stayed the night. Seth’s had a hard couple of days.”
Oh?
“Oh.”
Iris chuckles. I can’t imagine what she finds amusing right now. I’m crawling out of my skin. I shouldn’t be here.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, her gaze set on me. It’s making me squirm until her words register, and I still. “He’s different since he came back. He usually is after he sees you, but this time it’s… more. He’s not morphing back into the workaholic Seth we all know and love.”
My heart’s going a million miles an hour. Somewhere in the apartment, a shower turns off. I turn toward it, like I might find him standing at the entrance of the living room.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Iris continues, bringing my attention back to her. “He’s definitely trying to focus on work, but his heart’s not in it. I think he left it with you.”
This might be the longest I’ve ever gone without saying something quippy to help alleviate the tension from any given situation, but I’ve got nothing right now.
I want to hear every single word this woman has to say.
She has insight into the man I love, I need her to keep talking.
And I really need her to keep saying things like I think he left it with you because despite it giving me a small panic attack, it’s also uncoiling the knots in my stomach, the ones living there since Tiffany opened that fucking office door.
She looks at me like she’s expecting an answer, but I can’t get myself to form words.
“I hope—I hope you’re gentle with him. He needs that.
I know it may not seem like it, especially when he acts like an emotionless robot, but believe me, he does.
He gets in his own way when he’s scared. So be gentle. And patient.”
I blow out a large puff of air. “I’m sorry to say, but I don’t have a patient bone in my body.
I mean—I got sick of waiting for him to call me, so I hopped on a flight across the country.
And I’m not gentle. I say and do all the wrong things, most often with him.
I know I should be selling myself to you, you’re his best friend and so important to him, but I figure honesty is better.
” I pause to catch my breath. “Should I just leave?”
I’m halfway to standing when Iris laughs. “I forgot how funny you are. I can see why he’s so charmed. Sit. Stay. Just… just don’t hurt him.”
“I would never.”
“Great, now that we have that cleared up, I’m going to head out.” She stands and takes her mug to the kitchen. “I hope your big romantic gesture of chasing your man across the country ends better than mine.”
I chuckle when I see she’s smiling. “I didn’t expect you to be cool enough to joke about that.”
“Oh, I’m very cool,” she says, the words laced with her easy-going selfassuredness. She wraps herself into her jacket. “Just ask Seth,” she adds, looking behind me.
I turn around and lift off the sofa as I take in a wide-eyed Seth standing at the threshold of the living room. Our eyes stay locked as I hear the front door of the apartment gently snick closed behind Iris.
He’s dressed in his usual button down and slacks, cheeks flushed from the shower.
His hair is still damp, slicked back with one lazy lock falling across his forehead.
He looks so good, I want to drop to my knees and beg him to be with me.
Beg him to love me. Or at least let me love him because I don’t know how not to.
Choose me, love me. Oh my God, now I’m quoting Grey’s Anatomy.
He snaps out of our stare-off first and moves to the console table near the front door, grabbing keys and his wallet, slipping them into his pockets.
“I—can’t do this right now. I have to go to dinner at my dad’s.” Not exactly the words I wanted to hear, but at least he’s not ignoring my existence.
“Your dad’s? Really?” I dodge around the sofa and stand in the hall with him.
Seth steps closer to me, and I think he might touch me, but instead he reaches over and opens a door. His scent envelopes me, and I drink it in like it might be my last chance.
Pulling a jacket from the closet, he says a clipped, “Yes.”
“Take me with you.” God, I sound so desperate. I look around for my shoes, jamming my foot into one I find in a corner by the door. “We can talk on the way.” My head is on a swivel; I’m panicking because I can’t find the other one, and I think he just might leave me here.
“It’s over there.” He points to the shoe rack where my shoe is wedged between his. I rush to put it on, and when I straighten, we’re back to our stare-off.
“Please,” I beg. I need this. I need him.
He bites his lip, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him look so unsure. “Fuck. Let’s go.”
He opens the door to the hallway, and I feel his fingers brush my lower back as I make my way past him, but it could just be my wishful thinking.