Chapter 36 – ryan
RYAN
Beau
Raise your hand if you’re still fighting the New Year’s hangover.
Ryan
I’d raise both hands, if I felt capable of raising anything at all.
After yesterday, I’m a complete fucking mess, and the physical pain is the least of it. I’d take the pounding headache over fucking up my relationship with Pippa any day.
I’d also rather deal with the headache than the blow to my poker reputation. Not only did I suffer a humiliating loss at my own fucking poker tournament, I was apparently a raging asshole on top of it. The poker community is incestuous, which means word of my bad behavior got around.
Oh, well. At least I have the world’s best bed to wait it out in. I spared no expense purchasing the highest quality for me and my female guests. Turns out, my four-thousand thread sheets and luxury king-sized mattress are just as good for moping as they are for sex.
Luke
At least you don’t work in a distillery. I’m surrounded by hangover reminders.
James
I feel fine.
I shoot back a gif of some Spongebob fish throwing tomatoes. James would throw the hangover event of the year and be the only one to walk away scot-free. Hell, he probably went to the gym on January first, the monster.
Luke
Good party, though.
Nate
Anyone want to tell me why half the party scattered after midnight, and my fiancée asked me to stay with Beau?
Fuck. I put my forearm over my eyes. With all the other shit I’ve been dealing with, I forgot that Pippa and my argument had witnesses.
Beau
You haven’t heard from Cat yet?
Nate
She won’t tell me.
James
Ask Ryan.
Traitor.
Luke
What did you do, Ryan? And did it have anything to do with my sister disappearing, too? I couldn’t find Brinley anywhere just before the countdown.
Beau
I think the party was just crowded. People got lost.
Nate
Then why did James say to ask Ryan?
I make the executive decision that James has earned a little throwing under the bus, himself.
Ryan
I’ll explain when James does. Why was some old rich guy asking you about a honeymoon and an heir?
Luke
***
Nate
Are you sure it was “heir” and not “air”?
Ryan
ASK JAMES.
That should do it. With most of the guys dealing with residual hangovers, odds are good they’ll be too distracted to dig in on the Pippa thing. For now, I’m going back to sleep, because I’ve run the numbers, and being awake right now has zero advantages.
Meow.
A little noise comes from outside the door.
“Not now, Waffle,” I call. “I’m sleeping.”
Meow. Meow. Meooooooooow.
After a long, pitiful meow, I hear paws brushing against the door. She really wants something, I guess. Even though she’s not even my cat, I’m not the kind of monster to leave a kitty crying. I drag myself out of bed and open the door. The little black cat chirps at me.
“What do you want, girl?” I ask, lowering my hand for her to rub up against it.
She just meows again.
“You should have plenty of food.” I paid enough for one of the fancy automatic feeders.
Waffle just cocks her head like, wanna bet? I groan.
“You’re lucky I like you enough to investigate, you little feline menace,” I tell her.
She just trots alongside me to the kitchen, her tail in the air proclaiming that she’s pleased I’m taking her meowing seriously. Surprisingly, she’s right—the automatic feeder is empty, and the water in her bowl is low. I frown.
“Huh. I guess you were right.”
I refill Waffle’s food and water while she gloats. Then I check the litterbox. It hasn’t been cleaned, which is weird. Pippa usually cleans it in the morning before she leaves for work, and I didn’t wake up until well after that. I guess she could have forgotten—we were both up late last night.
But her bag and her keys are still on the table in the front entryway.
I fiddle with my hair, wondering if I should go check on her. I don’t think she’d want me to—but it’s weird, her not checking on Waffle. She couldn’t have even gone to the gym without her key card, so she would have brought her stuff.
As quietly as I can, I stroll down the hallway toward her room. The door’s closed, and when I press my ear against it, I don’t hear anything. Maybe she’s sleeping in—or maybe something’s wrong.
My hand drops to the doorknob. I want to open it and see with my own eyes that she’s okay.
But how can I? She told me she wanted space, and I need to honor that.
Especially after last night, when I practically begged her to let me fuck her.
God, how weak and pathetic am I? I can’t even last a day without her touching me, apparently.
So instead of opening the door, I go clean Waffle’s litter box. Then, I make myself coffee and an omelet with cinnamon and chives. That’s a great flavor combo, no matter what Nate and Beau say. While I eat, I check the group chat, which is an instant downer.
James
Pippa ditched her date to talk to Ryan. They’ve been hooking up since after she moved in, but they broke up.
I underestimated James, the merciless asshole. I’m never trusting him with a secret ever again.
Beau
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Your stepsister??
Luke
That’s why you didn’t want me to date her!!!
Beau
Ryan, dude, this is insane, even for you. We all thought you hated her.
Nate
Congratulations.
Even I do a double take when I read Nate’s message. I can’t imagine the face the other guys made.
Luke
…and the award for underreaction of the year goes to Nate.
Nate
They’re not related. They’re both single. They have chemistry. It’s weird, but I see it. So congratulations.
Beau
I mean, I guess…
James
They never acted like siblings.
Luke
How would you know? You don’t have any.
James
You do. Do Pippa and Ryan remind you at all of you and Brinley?
Luke
Gross!!!! No way, totally different.
…so I guess I see your point.
I shake my head. Nice try. James might be trying to make up for his betrayal by talking everyone into me and Pippa, but I’m still pissed at him.
Beau
Damn, Ryan’s girlfriend can kick his ass at poker.
Luke
Plus she’s hotter and smarter and funnier.
James
Stop hitting on Pippa, she’s dating Ryan AND she’s not even here.
Luke
Why should I? Ryan didn’t stop hitting on Cat just because she got engaged.
My head doesn’t hurt quite so much now. Even though there’s no more me and Pippa, at least now I know that the guys would’ve had my back. There might’ve been a little confusion in the beginning, but it wasn’t judgment, and that means the whole fucking world. Smiling a little, I type out my reply.
Ryan
Thanks, bros. But you skipped over the part where Pippa and I broke up. (Luke, you still can’t date her.)
Beau
No, you didn’t.
Ryan
Uh, yes, we did. I distinctly remember her dumping me.
Beau
It won’t last. You didn’t cross the line between you two just for fun. You did it because you wanted each other so much, you had no other choice. Those kinds of feelings don’t just go away. You’ll find your way back to each other.
Luke
That was beautiful, man.
Seriously, tear in my eye.
Damn. Beau’s right—at least, about my side of things. I think part of me always knew that if I made a move on Pippa, it would be for keeps. You don’t go all in like that unless you know you’re playing that hand till the end.
If only Pippa felt the same way.
Ryan
Well, I’m still dumped. So Beau can return whatever Hallmark card he got that from.
Beau
Oh yeah, they have a section for Stepsisters/Girlfriends now.
I chuckle, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. It makes me check the time. It’s past noon, and Pippa still hasn’t left her room.
Fuck it. I’m supposed to give her space, but I need to know she’s still breathing. Taking a breath, I shoot her a text.
Ryan
Let me know if you’re okay. I promise I won’t reply.
There. If she doesn’t respond in fifteen minutes, then I’ll go knock on her door.
I pace up and down the hall a little, trying to get some energy out. For the first few laps, Waffle follows me, assuming I’m playing some kind of game, but she quickly gets tired and curls up on the couch, waiting.
I make it a whole seven minutes before I just can’t help myself. I get to Pippa’s door and knock gently. “You okay in there, Pips?”
For a second, I don’t hear anything. Then, there’s a faint moan.
Fuck it. I shove the door open, only to find Pippa curled up in a little ball, wrapped in her purple blanket. Her face is flushed and she’s shivering so hard, I can see it from the door.
“Jesus, Pippa!” I’m at her side in a second, putting my hand against her forehead. She’s burning up. “You’re sick.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Uh, yes, you are. You’ve got an insane fever, and you look like Anne Hathaway when she died in Les Mis.”
“No, I have work,” she rambles. “I’ve got to write. And pack. Write and pack. Too much to do. I’m moving.”
She pulls off the covers and tries to get out of bed. Her legs go out from under her, and I catch her, quickly pushing her back to the mattress. It’s a sign of how sick she is that she doesn’t even pull away from my touch.
“You’re not doing anything until we get this fever down. Get back in bed.”
She moans in response, but at least she doesn’t try to walk again. I head to her bathroom and open the medicine cabinet. Hopefully, she picked up some liquid Tylenol, because she’s the only adult in the world who’s convinced that the syrupy stuff works better.
Fortunately, Pippa thought ahead, and there’s a red bottle waiting for me. I pour her out a dose and head back to her bed.
“Drink this,” I order, shoving it into her hand.
She shakes her head. “I don’t wanna.”
“Come on. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Nooooo,” she says dramatically.
Damn. If Pippa’s in the mood to argue, this could go on forever. In a moment of inspiration, I try using my best bossy Dom voice. “Pippa,” I say in a hard tone and she goes still. “Open your mouth.”
She blinks, then does what I say. “Now swallow.”
She makes a face, but she does.
“Good girl. I’ll be right back. Just lie down and rest, now.”