Chapter One #2
I left, shaking my head at the man’s rigid adherence to a perceived doorman’s code of ethics.
The penthouse elevator—that’s right, an entire elevator for only three penthouses on the top three levels—was waiting for me when I arrived, as it always seemed to be.
Not once had I needed to wait for it to make its way down to me.
As a frequent guest of Ryder’s, I’d had my fingerprint scanned when he first moved in and could use it to access the penthouse elevator and other facility amenities as I pleased.
My wallet rejoiced when I canceled my gym membership in favor of working out with Ryder in this building’s state-of-the-art fitness center.
The elevator zoomed me up to Ryder’s penthouse without stopping or exposing me to another person, exactly how I liked it.
Between school and my very social job, I peopled way more than I preferred to each week.
If I had my way, I’d see Ryder and only Ryder for days on end, but neither of our over-scheduled lives allowed that right now.
How long could we hang on this way before we began to unravel?
Too many unanswerable questions swirled in my head and heart. Christ, I felt like a moody teenager pining over a crush and not knowing how to deal with my emotions. But the funny thing was, I had the boy—man. I had Ryder. He was mine.
So why did it feel like I was chasing someone I couldn’t catch?
I felt grim as I entered the penthouse, weighed down from my core. Cool air, bordering on frigid, greeted me as I stepped inside. Having spent our entire lives in New England, we both preferred chillier days, and the penthouse’s temperature reflected that.
The moment I peeled off my damp suit jacket, the cold air hit my soaked shirt, causing me to shiver.
Hungry as I was, having been deprived of my fancy dinner, I needed to shower before anything else.
Too bad it would have to be a solo shower.
I could use a hand getting to some hard-to-reach places.
And, fuck, did I love helping Ryder clean every inch of his body.
Half an hour later, fresh and full of leftover pizza, I lounged on the couch watching a soccer game, yet not absorbing a single second of it. The clock hit nine at night, and still no contact from Ryder.
The heaviness in my chest grew with each passing second until I worried I wouldn’t have the strength to lift myself off the couch.
Somewhere around eleven, still without so much as a single text, I gave up.
Being awake sucked. Being unconscious for the next six or seven hours sounded like perfection.
But of course, sleep didn’t come. Instead of drifting into oblivion, I stared at the ceiling, stressing.
Stressing about my mother’s upcoming neurology appointment next week.
Stressing about my brother’s drug problem.
Mostly worrying about what was happening to Ryder and me.
Eventually, my brain must have given up the fight, allowing me to drift into a semi-asleep state. That’s when the bed finally shifted with Ryder’s weight.
It’s what I’d wanted all night, and yet, instead of feeling immense relief when he wound his arm around me and pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t cried since the day my father deserted our family more than a decade ago.
“Sorry, I’m so late,” he mumbled in an exhausted voice. My body’s tension must have alerted him that I wasn’t asleep.
I didn’t respond. My throat was too thick to speak, and I feared that if I did get something out, it wouldn’t be kind.
We’d started our relationship as enemies, but in the many months since, we’d called a truce and then developed real feelings for each other.
We had never spoken to each other with nasty words.
I didn’t want to start now, but I ached.
“Do anything fun tonight?” he asked, casual as could be, as though he hadn’t stood me up for dinner.
I thought I couldn’t feel worse than I had all night, but as I realized he’d truly forgotten and still didn’t remember we’d had special plans, my heart cracked.
No apology.
No promise to make it up to me.
No begging for forgiveness.
Nothing.
Because he didn’t even remember the celebratory dinner that had been his idea only four days ago, he didn’t remember pulling strings to get us a reservation at a restaurant that most had to wait months for. What did that mean? Did I not rank high enough on his priority list to even be remembered?
The logical side of my brain knew it wasn’t true, and I wasn’t being fair. Ryder was stuck in a bad situation, which he despised as much as I did. However, after spending an entire night feeling rejected, the logical side of my brain struggled to prevail.
Don’t say anything passive-aggressive. Don’t say anything passive-aggressive.
“Uh, no.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing fun.”
“It was your night off. You should have done something fun. What was Trevor up to tonight?”
Was he for real? My heart sickness was morphing into anger the longer he spoke.
“Don’t know.” If we didn’t change the subject, I’d end up saying something I’d regret. “What about you? You get any breaks throughout the day? Did you get a chance to eat some dinner?”
“Yeah, we took a quick break for dinner. Corvin brought me food. He texted to see what I was up to right about the time I was hitting peak hunger. I told him I didn’t have much time, but we hadn’t hung out in a while, so he stopped by with tacos from that new place on Main Street.
Man, Alex, they were sooo good. Amazing.
We should check it out soon. Maybe the next night you’re off work. ”
And that was the end of my rope. Corvin was a ballet dancer Ryder met in college.
They were good friends and had been for a long time.
There was just one problem—Corvin had a major crush on my boyfriend and did a shit job of hiding it.
He openly flirted and treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of his thousand-dollar shoe.
I hated that fucker, and knowing he’d had my date night was the last damn straw.
“No thanks,” I said, letting my disgust bleed into my voice.
Ryder tensed. “What? What do you mean? Why not?”
“I’ll need a few weeks before I agree to be stood up again. It was embarrassing enough tonight, so give me some time, but I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m ready to be humiliated again.”
His body went rigid, and not in the way that ended with us sweaty and tangled in the sheets. Fuck, when was the last time we’d even had sex? “Oh, shit. Alex…”
His voice held genuine remorse and sorrow, but I wasn’t ready to hear it.
“When you get a chance, let me know what cell provider Corvin has. Maybe I should switch since his texts seem to get through to your phone, but mind don’t.”
“Alex, I’m—”
I couldn’t have this conversation now. My emotions were too raw, too frayed.
“Not tonight, Ryder. I know people say you’re not supposed to go to bed mad and shit, but I’m… I just want to sleep. Okay?” I shrugged his arm off me and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling from my supine position.
He stayed silent. I could feel the weight of his regret and how his brain whirled, trying to think of a way to fix this. My words had hit their mark. They’d done their job, letting him know how upset I was.
“Okay.”
We lay side by side in thick, uncomfortable silence until my body’s fatigue won and finally forced my brain to go offline. I turned on my side, facing away from him. In the last second before I lost the ability to comprehend, I swore I heard a whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
He was the one at fault. He’d hurt me.
So why did I feel so shitty for what I’d said?