Wednesday, January 25th
Ronan
I jerk back as Shane lets out a high-pitched shriek the second I yank open the apartment door on my way to Murphy’s.
It’s only three o’clock—too early for me to head into work and too early for Shane to come home—but there he stands, his hand pressed to his chest where I assume his heart hammers against his ribs at our mutually unexpected face-to-face.
“Holy shit, what the fuck?” He sounds like he spent the night screaming into a mosh pit.
I skim his face, noting the light sheen of sweat, and cringe. “Oof, yeah. You look like shit, Shay.” I step aside to grant him entrance to our shared home.
“I’d flip you off if I wasn’t also feeling like shit.” The way he grimaces tells me his body aches with fever. “Thanks for jumping in early.”
I was still suffering through my anthropology class when Shane’s text came through only a couple of hours ago.
Shane:
I don’t want to be dramatic, but I think I’m dying.
Me:
***
Shane:
I feel like I swallowed shards of glass.
Me:
Maybe stop deep-throating the customers in the back alley?
Shane:
Aww, but the tips are so good...
I snorted a laugh in the lecture hall, earning me a “shh” from a studious-looking guy in the row ahead of me.
Me:
I have no comeback for this one. Seriously, though, what’s going on?
Shane:
As much as it pains me to say this, I think I’m coming down with something. I’m fucking shivering, Ran. Like, teeth chattering. Didn’t feel great this morning, but all I want is to lie down in the middle of 17th and let some Prius take me out of my misery… Do you think you can relieve me early?
Shane doesn’t bail on work. On the contrary, that guy is a damn workaholic, which I know has caused tension between him and Tori in the past. Which meant he really was feeling like death.
I grabbed my stuff—not even a little sad about leaving this riveting lecture on the social orders of chimpanzees—and texted him that I was on my way home to change and take over for him.
Looking at him now, I know I made the right call. I don’t think he would’ve made it another five hours without collapsing. “You know I got you, Shay. Need me to do anything before I head out?”
His motions are sluggish as he takes off first one shoe, then the other. “Yeah, talk to Cat,” he says hoarsely.
My lips flatten. “I texted her last night.” I admit it wasn’t much of a text message. Only that I got home from work okay because I didn’t want her to be worried. Not that I thought she was.
Cat and I haven’t spoken to each other since I left her standing in my apartment after our fight two days ago.
It wasn’t my proudest moment, but no good could come from me staying.
We needed to step away from each other, to cool down.
We were both worked up, slipping into a vicious fight.
We were on the verge of saying things we could never take back.
In fact, I’d already set a toe over that line. I hit below the belt. And so did she.
I hate myself for bringing up Adam. It was uncalled for, mean, just plain wrong. I know what happened with Adam wasn’t Cat’s fault, but man, when she called me a liar, I short-circuited.
My mother constantly accused me of lying, even though I never did.
She’d provoke me, lay into me, get a rise out of me, then use it as a reason to hurt me.
So when Cat said I was lying about her keeping secrets, it wasn’t just a disagreement.
It threw me right back into a beatdown from my mom.
I was defensive. Panicked. Raw. And I went low.
Too low. Not a minute has gone by when I haven’t regretted bringing up Adam, haven’t regretted raising my voice at Cat like that.
In a sense, this entire thing feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Shane raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Texting isn’t talking.”
“You gotta tell her that. She’s the one who isn’t answering my calls.”
Neither of us tried to make contact with the other on Monday, but I did finally dial her number Tuesday afternoon.
Our extended radio silence was beginning to make my skin crawl.
But Cat neither picked up nor returned my call.
She’s clearly pissed at me. And rightfully so.
As I said, self-fulfilling prophecy. At least I know she’s alive and well from Tori, who—according to Shane’s report this morning—hung out with Cat last night.
“Tor does that to me, too,” Shane says, his blue eyes empathetic even though they’re red-rimmed with exhaustion. “When we fight? She’ll just go off-air for a few days, make me grovel and beg before she’ll give me the time of day again,” he says with a grated chuckle. “Must be a girl thing.”
“I guess it’s deserved. I was kind of a dick.” My gaze drops from Shane’s to my black chucks.
“From what Tor shared with me, Cat’s hands aren’t all that clean either.”
I lift my eyes. “Cat told Tor?”
He shrugs. “Must have. Tor was pretty well apprised of what went down between you and Cat. For what it’s worth, Tor and I have fought much worse than that.” Shane moves his hand to my shoulder. My reply dissipates as his body heat seeps through my hoodie.
“Holy shit, Shay, you’re burning up. Get the fuck to bed, man. I’m gonna get you some shit to get this fever down and then I’ll head into work.”
I usher him down the hallway where I veer into the bathroom to grab the meds.
I pop open the Tylenol and wish undoing the damage I did with Cat was as easy as swallowing a couple of pills.
Cat
A single loud knock makes me aware of my dad standing at the threshold to my room. I look up from the laptop perched on my thighs.
He holds his arm out to me with my buzzing phone in his hand. “Your boyfriend’s persistent. That’s four times in five minutes.”
My nostrils flare with a deep inhale. I move my laptop, then walk over to my dad. He tips his head, eyes narrowing as though looking over the rims of his nonexistent glasses at my leisurely pace. I’m in no hurry to take my phone from him, in no rush to answer Ronan’s call.
I’m still pissed—at his unreasonableness, his unwillingness to talk to me.
As uncomfortable and painful as our fight was, and as much as I hate how we left things on Monday, I also refuse to be the first to tuck tail.
I need him to understand that I meant what I said, that my feelings are valid.
I’m frustrated he still won’t confide in me.
I’m still confused about Miranda. And then there’s his total refusal to consider the idea of having kids with me.
Why doesn’t he at least allow for that possibility?
I mean, there’s no rush. Maybe in ten years?
Fifteen? We’re so young, how can he make this decision for us now?
I hold my hand out to my dad, who places my phone in my palm, his eyes pinned to me. “Everything alright between you two?” he asks when I don’t follow my usual pattern and immediately return Ronan’s call.
“Yep.” I return to my bed and retake my seat.
He still doesn’t retreat, leaning against the doorframe, settling in. “Trouble in paradise?”
My eyes flit to my dad, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing Ronan and I hit a rough patch. “Nope.”
My phone begins to buzz again. Even though I’m still mad, the second I see his name on my screen my heart does that stupid flip it always does. And just like that, I’m smiling—against my better judgment. I pick up my phone, push the answer button, and demonstratively move my phone to my ear.
My dad gets the hint and shoves off the doorframe so I can speak with my boyfriend in private.
I take a deep breath. “Hey.”
“I miss you,” Ronan says.
And just like that, I fold into myself. “I miss you, too. But I’m still mad.”
He chuckles dryly. “I figured as much. Thanks for picking up this time.”
“I left my phone downstairs. I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. Well, your last four calls at least,” I say with a giggle.
“I deserve that.”
Ugh, why does he have to be so self-sacrificing? I’d deserve for him to ignore me, too.
I decide against dredging up our argument over the phone. “What are you doing?”
“I just got to Murphy’s. Shane’s sick as a dog.”
“What? Oh no!”
“Yeah. He looks like death himself. Just before I left he started coughing so hard I thought he was going to throw up,” Ronan says. “How about you? What are you up to?”
Our conversation feels stilted, chilly even, but what do I expect? We need a second to rewarm to each other. “Just doing some school stuff. Do you… I probably shouldn’t come over then and wait for you tonight, right? With Shane sick?”
“No, definitely not. I don’t want you to catch whatever Shane has. I already texted Tori, too. I doubt she’ll stay away from her sick guy, but I at least had to give her a heads-up.”
“What if I don’t want to stay away from you?”
He chuckles, and I smile. He sounds like himself already. “Then you can come see me at Murphy’s anytime you like, but I’d prefer you not go to the apartment right now.”
“Okay. Want me to stop by tonight?” Relief eases the ache I hadn’t realized I was feeling in my bones.
“If you’re asking me if I want to see you, the answer is always yes. But I gotta be honest, I don’t know how much time I’ll have tonight. From what I can gather, Shane’s not the only one sick. Whatever is going around has me down three waiters,” Ronan grumbles. “We might have better luck tomorrow.”
It’s not perfect. But it’s a start.