Chapter Five - Rachel
CHAPTER FIVE
Rachel
I pull up next to Ryder’s black Ferrari—for someone whose job is staying under the radar, I’m not sure how this vehicle is a practical choice, but whatever—and park the car. When I turn in my seat, Lyla’s eyes light up, and a smile spreads across her face.
“Daddy’s home?”
“Daddy’s home,” I confirm.
I reach to help unbuckle her seat belt, but she throws it off so forcefully it smacks the window before she practically jumps out of the car. After I grab the takeout from the passenger seat, I have to run to catch up with her and make my way inside.
I hear them before I see them.
“Tiger!” Ryder’s deep voice booms through the house as I shut the door behind me and walk to the living room.
“Daddy!”
I hear his exhale as he lifts her into his arms, and when I step into the room, I watch Lyla anchor her barely long enough arms around Ryder’s neck, tight enough to choke him.
He flicks his eyes to me, but I look away, shifting my attention to taking my shoes off and placing them in the mudroom.
Just the brief moment of eye contact is enough to make me grateful I asked Meredith to stay for dinner tonight.
I’m not used to being alone with Ryder.
Though he’s spent countless nights and weekends with Lyla and me over the years, we’ve usually kept a civil distance. It’s rare that we have any conversations that don’t pertain to Lyla.
But this is different.
Ryder isn’t just here to spend time with Lyla—he’s here to live, to work, to be a regular part of her life, and, consequently, mine.
Until he’s inevitably called back to Los Angeles.
Meredith being here for Ryder’s arrival gives me a sense of control over the situation, a way to enforce that Lyla and I have friends and a life all on our own. His being here isn’t going to change that.
“Thanks for getting dinner!” Meredith chirps, taking the large bag from my hands and calling to her son while taking the food to the table.
Dominic, the firecracker of a child, bursts into the room.
”Lyla! You just missed Cars,” he says, pointing to the living room where Lightning McQueen is frozen on the screen. “But I paused it so we can watch the end together!”
Lyla untangles her arms from Ryder’s neck and beams down at the boy. “Dom, this is my dad!”
Dominic blinks like he just realized that the giant figure holding Lyla is an actual person. His smile grows, and he straightens his back, holding out his hand and sending glances to his mom to make sure she’s watching. She gives him an encouraging smile.
“I’m Dominic Ashford,” he says in a rush that makes it sound like one word. “I’m Lyla’s best friend.”
Ryder chuckles, a low and alluring sound, as he sets Lyla on her feet and accepts Dominic’s hand, which is comically small compared to his own. “It’s nice to meet you, Dominic Ashford. I’m Ryder Bates.”
Dominic blushes but hides it with a scrunched smile, taking Lyla’s hand and pulling her to the table. “Sit next to me, Lyla.”
Ryder watches Dom lead Lyla away with cautious curiosity.
“They’re basically siblings,” I tell him.
“It better stay that way,” he mutters, then sends a look to where Meredith sets the table before lowering his voice. “How was the appointment?”
There’s an icy edge to the question, and I’m not surprised.
The decision to keep the appointment from Ryder hadn’t been made out of spite but necessity.
“Good. Elli did an excellent job finding someone. Dr. Danver is great for Lyla,” I say, ignoring the underlying frustration in his tone.
When I turn my head, I’m a little stunned to find that he’s only a foot away from me, close enough that I can smell his cologne.
The notes of pineapple, bergamot, and apple bring waves of memories that I repress.
My eyes flicker to my friend, but she doesn’t look back at Ryder and me. “I told Meredith the car crash story. She thinks that’s what gave Lyla separation anxiety and why she’s having a hard time sleeping.”
His eyebrows scrunch ever so slightly. “Why tell her anything at all?”
“Meredith and Dominic practically live here. It’s easier to give her an excuse for the therapy than it would be to hide it.”
“And what exactly did the therapist say?”
“We should avoid any reminders that could trigger a panic attack and work on building her confidence. She suggested we get her into an activity to express herself, so I’ll call local dance studios and swimming lessons to see what we can get her involved in.”
Ryder’s expression doesn’t change as he takes in the information, but I don’t expect it to. Sometimes, talking to Ryder feels like conversing with a marble statue.
“And why didn’t I hear about this appointment until after it happened?”
“Everyone ready to eat?” Meredith calls, mostly to the kids, but she shoots us a smile, too, which I force myself to return.
“I am,” I say, leaving Ryder before he can press me for answers.
I know the conversation is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to happen right now.
We take our seats at the table, me at the head with Meredith on my left and both the kids to my right.
Ryder can choose between the seat next to Meredith or the other end of the table.
And, of course, he chooses the latter.
I try not to look at him, knowing the kind of power struggle that we’ll engage in if I do. The only time I catch his eye is after I nonchalantly cover my knife with my napkin, but his expression doesn’t give away any particular thoughts on the gesture.
“Then I knocked the entire bag over! It’s like…” Dominic sizes up Ryder. “Your tallness and I knocked it all the way over to the ground.”
“It’s height, Dom, not tallness,” Meredith corrects, but Dominic barely looks her way.
Ryder, on the other hand, narrows his eyes, sizing up Dominic right back. “No way. You’re too small.”
Dominic’s eyes widen in horror that someone would actually accuse him of exaggerating. Meredith chuckles, but I shake my head.
“Ryder,” I admonish, but he gives me a shrug.
“It’s true!” Dom insists. “I bet I could tackle you, too.”
“Is that right? We might have to test that out.”
Now, Dominic’s eyes bulge like he’s been given the mother of all opportunities.
“Okay!” he practically shouts. “Let’s do it right now!”
“Absolutely not,” Meredith says. “You’re not going to tackle anyone.”
Dominic looks at Ryder with pleading eyes. “Will you tell my mom that it’s okay if I tackle you?”
Ryder shakes his head, faux disappointment marring his usually stony face. “Can’t disobey your mom. Sorry, kiddo, no tackling.”
“That’s okay. I can show you my karate kicks instead!” Dominic puts both hands on the table as he pushes to stand on his chair, clearly intent on standing on the table.
“Dominic Ashford, you sit down right this instant,” Meredith orders in her mom voice, and Dom falls promptly into his seat with a mutter about how he never gets to do anything fun.
“You do martial arts?” Ryder asks.
“Oh, yeah. I’m the best one, too. I even have a green stripe on my belt!”
Meredith sends her son an exasperated look but nods to Ryder. “He’s done it for almost a year now. We love the place. The owner is a great guy.”
Ryder meets my gaze, and I don’t miss his squared shoulders like he’s bracing for a challenge.
Instead of saying anything to me, he looks at Lyla. “What do you think about doing martial arts, Tiger?”
He did not just ask her that.
He did not completely bypass me and broach this topic over dinner.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, my voice far calmer than I’m actually feeling.
“Would I play with Dom?” Lyla asks, and I don’t miss the flickering interest in her features.
Ryder looks at Meredith. “Would they be in the same class?”
At least Meredith has the decency to look between Ryder and me uncomfortably before nodding. “The classes are based on age, so they’d train together.”
“That would be so fun!” Dominic turns to Lyla. “Take class with me! Mr. Torres is so much fun.”
The more he talks, the more she smiles, and I know I have a real problem on my hands.
“Sweetie, Mom and Dad will have to talk about this a little bit more, but we’ll see. What if you tried out dance, swimming, or gymnastics?”
Ryder’s eyes narrow, but Lyla only shrugs noncommittally as a response.
The rest of dinner passes with Meredith trying to keep Dominic from doing kicks on the table and me trying to avoid looking at the man directly across from me.
It’s not a pleasant meal.
The second Lyla finishes her food, Dominic grabs her hand, and the two of them head for the living room. The sound of cars zooming on a racetrack follows their disappearance.
I’m washing the plates at the sink when I feel Ryder coming up behind me, lowering his voice so that Meredith—who’s wiping down the table—can’t hear him. “Martial arts is exactly the kind of activity Lyla should be involved in.”
I match his volume, not wanting to make Meredith more uncomfortable than we’ve already made her. “Do you know how many triggers that would have? One mention of stranger danger could send her into a meltdown.”
“That could happen anywhere. Besides, we’d be there the entire time if something went wrong. It’s exactly the kind of confidence-building activity the doctor suggested. Think about how many skills she could learn.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t want Lyla to need self-defense skills just because her father has more enemies than he can count.”
“Believe it or not, it’s a little late for that.”
I want to snap back when Meredith walks in with a dirtied rag. “I swear that boy is a walking mess. This is all from Dom’s seat.” She lifts the rag, which is covered in pink sauce and rice.
I force a laugh. “Did any of the food go into his mouth?”
“I doubt it, but it doesn’t really matter.
We made a deal that if he could go a week without being put in time out at martial arts, I’d take him out for ice cream.
I really didn’t think it would happen, but I underestimated that kid’s love for sweets.
” She rolls her eyes, but her smile is one full of love.
“I’m sure he’ll love that.”
I watch Meredith go to where Lyla sits on the floor, watching Dominic with pure delight as he does something resembling a kick and a somersault while the movie credits roll on the TV.
“Dominic, go get your shoes on.”
He springs up faster than should be possible. “Ice cream?”
Meredith nods.
“Can Lyla come?” Dominic doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling my daughter to her feet. “Come get ice cream with us!”
I take a step forward to offer to go with them, but it’s too late.
Lyla’s eyes widen in pure panic.
“No!” The shriek cuts through the room with the force of a newly sharpened machete. She speeds toward her father, tiny hands fisting Ryder’s shirt so hard that her knuckles turn white. “I’m not going! You can’t make me go!”
Ryder and I exchange looks of absolute shock.
On the rare occasion that the two of us joke, it’s usually about how Lyla is better suited for royalty than us.
She’s soft-spoken, polite, and abnormally graceful.
As a baby, she was never prone to crying fits or tantrums, and she definitely never screamed when she was upset.
This kind of reaction is not like my daughter.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time she’s acted this way in the last two weeks.
“Lyla,” I gently call.
“No!” Tears spring to her dark eyes and her bottom lip trembles. “I don’t want to!”
“What’s wrong with Lyla?” Dominic’s voice calls from behind us, and I hear Meredith quietly ushering him out of the room.
Ryder lifts Lyla in his arms, and she buries her face in his chest as he wraps his arms firmly around her. His eyes don’t leave mine, the concern there burning as intensely as my own. When he flicks his gaze down the hall, he doesn’t need to use words to tell me what he’s thinking.
I head down the hall, hearing Ryder mumbling assurances to Lyla as I go. I find Meredith tying Dominic’s tennis shoes, his eyes no longer full of excitement but a heart-melting worry.
“Is Lyla okay?” he whispers.
“Of course,” I tell him, then turn my words to his mother. “She had a long day, and I think the appointment was a lot for her. Maybe next time.”
Meredith lifts Dominic into her arms, placing one hand on my shoulder. “I completely understand. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
I nod. “I will.”
I walk Meredith and Dominic to the door, waving them goodbye as they go. When I come back down the hallway, I find Ryder pacing the living room, gently bouncing Lyla up and down as she cries into his chest.
Neither of us speaks while Lyla gets the tears out of her system.
The guilt hits with its usual knee-buckling strength, and I barely make it to the table in time to fall into a chair and not flat on my ass.
What kind of mother wouldn’t see this coming? That voice asks, and I can’t help but think the same thing.
How did I not realize that, after reliving the factory night, Lyla would be fragile? I’ve been so focused on having Meredith and Dominic around to help mediate things with Ryder that I hadn’t stopped to consider that Lyla might need time to rest and recharge.
Ryder has been in town for less than two hours, and I’ve already let him cloud my judgment concerning what’s best for Lyla.
He looks over our daughter’s shoulder, meeting my eyes with one of his signature unreadable expressions, and I make myself a promise.
No matter what, Lyla will come first.