In a Rush

Chapter 14

chapter fourteen

Emme

Today’s Learning Objective:

Students will take the one-bed loss like a win.

When we arrived at our hotel, the famous Galt House on the Ohio River, we didn’t do anything as mainstream as checking in. We were met at the door by someone whose entire job was to wait for us to show up, hand us our room keys, and escort us to the elevator.

We didn’t even bring our own bags which was probably for the best because I couldn’t be responsible for anything other than staring at the ring perched on my hand.

The sparkle was unbelievable. It was so bright, I was convinced everyone in the hotel lobby could see the light radiating off it. But it wasn’t just the ring. I felt like a crystal sun catcher hanging in the perfect window, light and color streaming out of me and leaving tiny dancing rainbows everywhere I went.

I was engaged .

Yes, there were many technicalities and complications, but I didn’t need to think about that right now. Not when I was still reeling from the proposal.

I hadn’t expected a proposal of any kind. Certainly not one on bended knee. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve anticipated the big, shiny ring but it was all the other pieces that made me feel like a disco ball.

I’d replayed Ryan’s words on the drive from the airport and still found myself stuck on the earnestness of them. It was as though he’d meant what he said.

Part of me—a very, very dangerous part—wanted him to mean it. That same part of me could hear my heart thundering in my chest like a stampede with no end.

“Ready?” my fiancé asked, nodding toward the elevator. Two hotel staffers held the doors open. Another offered us water, mint juleps, or champagne.

This, I could get used to.

I reached for a champagne flute, watching the way my ring gleamed under the warm light of the chandeliers. I glanced to Ryan and discovered him staring too. When he slowly shifted his gaze to my face, a smile warmed the corners of his lips and he reached for my free hand.

The stampede in my chest gained speed. I felt it shake all the way down to my bones and blaring through my veins. It was so much, so intense—and somehow I wanted more. I wanted to feel all of these things until I forgot what it was like to be sad and alone.

With our fingers laced together, I said, “Lead the way.”

This place reminded me of all the Christmases spent with my dad and his family. They were all about private islands in the Caribbean or ultra-premium luxury resorts in Aspen or Whistler. The more exclusive, the better.

I always felt like I was betraying my mom when I was with them. That family he’d created with his new wife Danielle and my half brothers was the one my mother had envisioned for herself, the one I knew she still mourned. It was the one she would’ve had if my father hadn’t been an unapologetic cheater with lawyers who wrote bear-trap prenups.

A staffer met us at our floor and escorted us to our suite. Ryan pressed a crisp bill into his hand and sent him on his way once we were inside, and I appreciated that he knew those maneuvers. Even if this wasn’t exactly new to me, it would’ve taken me five full minutes to realize I should tip the guy and another five to dig cash out of the bottom of my bag. If I even had cash, which I usually didn’t.

“Take whichever room you want,” Ryan said, gesturing down the hallway. “I have to return some messages before we leave for the party.”

There were a million parties this weekend and we were scheduled to make appearances at all of them. I didn’t know what constituted an appearance. Was it literally just a pop-in or were we doing time at each venue? Or was it more a matter of flashing the engagement ring at the right people?

Regardless of how it worked out, I was going to look good at these parties. The muffin/cream puff dress aside, Wren and I understood each other now. I hadn’t expected to enjoy working with a stylist so much—or letting Ryan buy all my clothes—but it was great having someone do all the legwork and then present the best options. We didn’t shy away from color, I had enough room in every skirt to break into a dead sprint if needed, and I felt confident again.

I’d missed that.

My thumb twisted the band on my ring finger as I wandered down the hall and glanced into the first bedroom. The bed was the size of a city block. I expected the next to be the same, but when I opened the door I found only a closet stocked with extra blankets and pillows.

Convinced that I’d missed something, I opened every door in the suite and made two passes through the living and dining rooms. Ryan arched a brow in question but said nothing, his phone pressed to his ear.

I hurried back to the first bedroom—the only bedroom—with Ryan trailing behind me, still on the phone. I heard him say to someone, “Just make a decision and get it done.”

He ended the call and watched as I rounded the bed. This wasn’t a problem. It really was a big bed. His entire offensive line could snuggle up in here. Hersberler would end up on the floor but that had more to do with his personality than the fit.

“What’s up?” Ryan asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

My gaze snagged on his thick forearms and the lines inked there. It took some effort to drag my attention away because my fiancé—regardless of whether I was supposed to notice this or not—was devastatingly hot. “This is the only room.”

“It’s a two-bedroom suite,” he said.

“I’ve checked every cupboard, cabinet, and closet. I assure you it’s not.”

His eyes snapped to the bed between us. He swallowed hard. “I’ll call Marcie. She’ll handle it.”

I worried the back of my ring again. “Who’s Marcie?”

“My assistant.”

He tapped his phone and paced away, leaving me staring down at the bed. I heard him speaking though I could only make out the tense tone, not the words. I bet his jaw was back to being a concrete block. His dentist probably had a nice summer home just from looking after those molars.

I’d never known Ryan to be anything but tense. I met him in ninth grade and I remembered immediately wondering why he was so damn serious. He had tons of friends and was involved in everything and he had a sly sense of humor but there was also a dark energy tethered to him like rings to Saturn.

As it turned out, his father had been dying. Slowly but also quickly, in sudden, devastating bursts that upended his family. By that time, the first floor of their home had a hospital bed, oxygen tanks and compressors, and a constant stream of nurses and health aides. The ALS took him the summer before our last year of high school.

I still thought about whether the Ryan of today, the Ryan I’d always known, would be the same or different if his father was alive and well. Different, of course, in all the ways that sickness and loss and grief jackknifed their way through an otherwise ordinary life. But what if Ryan was a serious, solemn soul because it was his fundamental nature and not simply because it’d been demanded of him at such a young age?

I didn’t know if there was any point to carrying on that debate with myself. All I knew was there were times when I had to remind him that he didn’t have to hold the weight of the world on his back. That it was okay to be happy and to do things simply because he wanted to, and not because his mom needed the help or his sisters needed to pay for college or any other reason he had to ignore his inner compass.

“This is the only room,” he said from the doorway, his phone still pressed to his ear.

I glanced up from the pristine bed linens. “A-plus on the comprehension and recall.”

“No,” he said, running a hand down his face. “This is the only room here . It’s the only room anywhere. In the whole fucking town.”

“Well, isn’t this event a pretty big deal around here? It stands to reason there wouldn’t be much availability.”

He held up a finger as someone spoke to him. “You’re telling me every vacation rental is booked too, Marcie? Every last one?” He blew out a breath as she replied. “Are there any houses for sale? Some kind of quick, all cash deal?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

Marcie must’ve echoed that sentiment because Ryan held up a hand. “All right, all right, I won’t buy a house tonight. Forget it.” Then, in a low, lethal voice I didn’t think I’d ever heard from him before, he said, “Let them know I’m not pleased.”

It appeared he really didn’t want to share this bed with me.

Such an efficient way to chase off my sunbeams and heart stampedes.

He exhaled every molecule of oxygen from his body and folded his arms. I could actually hear his jaw popping from the other side of the room.

I stared at him, still fiddling with the band of my ring. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“But—” He slashed a hand toward the bed.

“What about it?” I asked. “You didn’t have a problem staying at my place a few weeks ago and this bed is twice the size. We could get a third person in here if you wanted an adventure. Is McKerry in town this weekend? Or Wilcox? I bet one of them would be down.”

The phone fell from his hand, clattered to the floor. The veins in his neck appeared to bulge and that seemed like something to be concerned about. Medically, perhaps. “ You want to run that by me again?”

“I’m just saying we have plenty of room and you don’t need to be weird about it.”

“By suggesting we invite McKerry to—to what , exactly?”

“It was a joke. I know you’re familiar with the concept.” I tossed up my hands and stomped to the living space to grab my luggage. Ryan was exactly where I’d left him when I returned to the room.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said. I wasn’t sure how he was able to speak through that clenched jaw but he was known for doing impossible things.

“If you’d listen to me, you’d hear me saying that I’m not uncomfortable.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t fit on the couch.”

“Then the floor.”

“Oh my god, would you stop it? I’ll take the couch before you take the floor.”

“I’m not letting you do that.”

“You don’t decide what I do.” I flattened my palms to his chest and gave him a shove. Of course, he barely moved. “Get out of here so I can get dressed.”

I slammed the door behind him because my inner child was a moody teenager. Grabbing my makeup bag, I headed for the bathroom. In the bright lights, my ring glittered up at me.

I guess that made this our first fight as an engaged couple.

Tonight was like a bar crawl of the most lavish estates in and around Louisville. We pulled up at a few parties and made quick work of seeing people on some mental checklist Ryan was working through.

For the most part, all I had to do was smile and talk about how nice everyone looked and how gorgeous the decorations were. As a lawn ornament, no one expected much of me and they didn’t go looking for more. I couldn’t decide whether I liked that but I did like the earrings Ryan gave me before we left.

He grumbled something about making good on his promise to pick out the jewelry and tossed the glossy red box on the solitary bed in our suite. The multicolored gemstones were like a bouquet of wildflowers that climbed up my lobe and dangled low enough to nearly brush my bare shoulders.

I adored them. They were unusual enough to feel like something I would’ve selected for myself and they went perfectly with my long, full-skirted dress covered in bright embroidered florals.

On the way to the last stop of the night, Ryan warned me we’d be staying a bit longer and seeing more people. I warned him I’d be ordering the entire room service menu when we returned to the hotel and not sharing any of it.

We hadn’t revisited the topic of sleeping arrangements.

This party was held at a suburban mansion that was pretty much the size of the entire North End. I didn’t know what set this party apart from all the others, but right away I understood that it was very different. If I thought Ryan had kept me close before, he basically shoved me in his pocket now.

If I was being naked-in-a-nightmare honest with myself, I didn’t hate it.

I actually kind of liked it.

These past few months, I’d been so lonely. I missed being close to another person. I missed being wanted—even if it was just the performance of desire and a distant relative of the real thing.

But there was another part, one that had nothing to do with the dark days since everything went to hell with Teddy. A part that liked the way it felt when Ryan touched me—and much more than friends were supposed to like each other.

So, I went along, even if I was still annoyed about that little fight and hungry enough to scarf down anything on a passing server’s tray, regardless of whether they could confirm the shellfish status.

I beamed up at Ryan every time he introduced me as his fiancée, every time he said, “My fiancée is the best second-grade teacher in the world,” every time he stopped a server to say, “My fiancée would like another mint julep.”

I curled into him, a hand always on his back, his shoulders, his chest. I’d let my palm slide down to his abs, but he was quick to grab my wrist and show off that new ring.

“When’s the big day?” asked a woman wearing a necklace that looked like my ring multiplied by forty.

Her husband, a hedge fund manager whose name I’d immediately forgotten, asked Ryan something about whether he’d looked at the new numbers. Instead of responding to him, Ryan said, “Soon, we hope.” He glanced at me with a slight smile. “Probably before training camp.”

“That soon?” I asked with a laugh. Camp started in late July.

His gaze dropped to my lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Another laugh. I didn’t know why he kept acting like I was going to back out at any minute. “I think you know I will.”

The hedge fund couple excused themselves and, for the first time since arriving, no one swooped in to fill the space. In fact, we were strangely alone in this moment, which was what made his next question even more confusing.

He trailed a finger down the length of one earring. “Do you like them?”

I arched a brow but I didn’t think he noticed because he was still staring at the gems. “I think you know I do.”

Humming in agreement, he gave a slight nod. “They look good on you.” He brought his hand to my jaw, swept his thumb over my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

I tipped my chin up. If only he knew how long I’d waited for him to ask. “Always.”

And when he touched his lips to mine, I pretended—just for now—that all of this was real.

We didn’t talk about the kiss or how it went on longer than polite for the setting. Or how we were breathless when it ended. Or how we kept swaying toward each other like our bodies knew something we didn’t.

We didn’t say anything and we didn’t share another kiss the rest of the night.

It was better that way. Nothing good would come of this growing into something more…complicated. With our history and all. And our lives were different. So totally different.

We returned to the hotel after midnight, bleary-eyed and hungry. I had Ryan’s jacket draped over my shoulders to ward off the chill in the air and his tie hung loose around his neck. He held my hand as we shuffled to the elevator and swept me close once we were inside.

“Still ordering the whole room service menu?” he mumbled into my hair.

“No,” I said, letting my head rest on his chest. “I’m not bothering with anything sensible. Just give me a bucket of fries.”

I heard him rustling in his pocket and then the snap of a camera’s shutter. Another pic for the socials. He held it up for my approval. I gave a tired nod.

“Will you share the fries?”

The elevator came to a stop. Neither of us moved. “If you give me all the burnt and ugly fries.”

“I always save those for you,” he said.

I bobbed my head. “Okay, then.”

The room had been tidied since we’d left. Lamps were lit, the bed linens turned down, and the complete explosion of my makeup on the bathroom counter now looked like something out of an organization video.

“There’s champagne,” Ryan called from the living area.

“Really don’t think I need more alcohol,” I said as I kicked off my shoes. These fucking things. Wren and I were going to have a long talk about my tolerance for shoe-induced pain the next time I saw her. “If the rest of the weekend is anything like tonight, I’m gonna be sweating mint julep until the summer solstice.”

“There’s also chocolate-covered strawberries,” he said.

“You shall bring them to me now.”

I stepped out of my dress and groaned in relief once I had the strapless bra unhooked. I wanted to fling it straight into the sun but I only had myself to blame. I’d chosen the X-strap dress knowing full well that my bust required a level of support that could only come from a perilous combination of steel and spandex. If I wanted to fight gravity, I’d have to accept some reorganization of my ribs.

I turned to get a look at my back in the bathroom mirror before pulling on a sweatshirt. Deep, red grooves in my skin glared back at me. One spot on my side looked particularly miserable. It would be gone in the morning, and if it wasn’t, I always had diaper cream on me. That stuff fixed everything.

“There’s also chocolate-dipped orange segments, which I wasn’t sure about but I tried one and I’m—oh, Jesus, fuck, Em, I’m sorry.”

I glanced away from the mirror to find Ryan in the bedroom, his back to me with a silver platter in one hand while he shoved the other through his hair. And I was wearing only undies and a hoodie clutched to my chest.

“It’s all good,” I drawled as if we walked in on each other mostly naked all the time.

He let out a tight laugh but he didn’t leave. “For fuck’s sake, Em.” He fisted his hand in his hair while I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. “What happened?” he asked. “To your back.”

“Oh,” I said, reaching for the sleep shorts I should’ve put on five minutes ago. “It’s from my bra.” I stared at the hand still tugging at his hair. His knuckles were white. “I’m dressed now. Sorry about that. I should’ve closed the doors.”

“You should’ve had your own room,” he grumbled.

“We’ll just have to blame the Derby for that.”

He hung his head and blew out a ragged breath. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“You will not,” I said. “Don’t invent bad solutions to things that aren’t problems. We’ll find something to watch, eat fries and chocolate-covered fruit, and build a great wall of pillows down the middle of the bed to protect your virtue.”

He shot a glance over his shoulder but didn’t meet my eyes.

“I don’t have any virtue so there’s nothing to protect.” I babbled when I was overtired, overstimulated, and underfed, so I went on. “I’m the opposite of virtue. Whatever virtue is these days, I’m not it. I mean, I packed two different vibrators just for this two-night stay and?—”

“You gotta stop saying these things to me.”

“—it’s not like I can’t get by on my own but sometimes you just don’t want to get in there and do the work.”

He gripped the back of his neck. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“But you have to keep the happy hormones flowing. Grow that serotonin at home with an orgasm a day. That’s what they say.” The words kept coming but my brain had no involvement. No brakes for this runaway truck. “Not that I have any plan on doing that. On using them. Like, here. Because—well, you know. Just the one bed. And I already checked the box this morning so I’m good. I’m great.”

Ryan set the platter down on the bed and bent at the waist, his hands on his knees and his chest heaving. It took me a minute but I realized he was laughing. It sounded more like drowning on dry land.

I could’ve been embarrassed. Could’ve curled into a small, mortified ball and found a corner to hide in for the night. And maybe I would’ve done all of that if I’d spewed all those inside thoughts on anyone else but this was Ryan.

“Get a hold of yourself,” I said, smacking him on the back. “You’re the one who wanted to marry me. You’re legally required to put up with my weirdness now.”

He wrapped an arm around my thighs, still bent at the waist, still shaking with laughter. He rested his head above my knee. “There was just so much of it at once.”

“I suggest you get used to it.” I smoothed a hand down his back. “It will only get weirder.”

“I’m sorry I walked in on you like that,” he said.

I shrugged. “I’m sorry I left the doors open.”

I felt him blow out a breath. “Your bucket of fries will be here any minute now.”

“Consider yourself absolved of all crimes,” I said.

With another ragged breath, he glanced up at me. “Why is a bra making it look like you’ve been whipped?”

I made a cupping gesture in front of my breasts. “It takes a lot of heave-ho to make this work. It leaves marks.”

He patted my thigh and straightened, his brows pulled together tight. “Is there something we can do to fix that?”

“I’m used to it,” I said. “And it fades pretty quickly.”

He extended a hand toward me but snatched it back and shoved it in his pocket. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. “It’s not that bad. It just looks gnarly for a bit.” Gesturing to him, I said, “I’ll let you change. I hear it’s helpful to close the doors while doing that.”

Ryan flipped open his cuffs, then the buttons on his shirt. “From the same people who recommend an orgasm a day?”

I blinked as he shrugged out of his shirt. And there he was, muscle and ink and tanned skin. I cleared my throat. “Surprisingly, no. Different schools of thought.”

He tossed the shirt to a chair near the window. “Understandable.”

His hand dropped to his belt and something clicked in my head. I had to get out of here right now unless I wanted… Unless. “Think about which movie you want to watch tonight,” I said, crossing to the door.

“We never finished The Mummy ,” he said.

I didn’t stop, didn’t spare a backward glance when I heard his belt hit the floor. “Gonna stay awake this time, husband?”

“Bet on it, wife.”

And once again, Ryan was asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie.

I hadn’t bothered to build the wall of pillows just as he hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. All of this became a pressing matter of concern when the slumbering bear beside me decided to roll across the great expanse of this bed and throw his arm around my waist.

It was the first time I’d been able to study his tattoos at this range. Swirling lines, almost like stylized ocean waves, ran from his shoulder down to his wrist. There were trees and flowers, clouds and constellations. It was beautiful. A layered work of art.

When I knew he was deep asleep and holding me like he’d never, ever let go, I traced the lines with the tip of my finger. Just like last time, he didn’t stir.