12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Aspen
I pause before opening the door, wondering what I’ll find. Ryan and his ex-wife cozying up on the couch? Ryan and his ex-wife seamlessly working together while cooking dinner? Ryan and his ex-wife fondly reminiscing about wedded bliss?
Fucking stop this, Aspen, I berate myself.
I eventually caved late last night, answering one of Ryan’s many messages, and informed him I’d be staying over at Piper’s. I’d had way too much wine by that point to even consider driving—the sweet, sweet escape of drowning your sorrows with alcohol—but even if I was stone-cold sober, I wouldn’t have. My anger was a living, breathing thing inside me, and I didn’t want to have any kind of conversation with him before calming down.
That saying, sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never harm me, is a lie. Words are a powerful thing, and things said in anger can never be taken back. It’s exactly what I told Ryan at the restaurant. An apology doesn’t take away the hurt harmful words cause.
I blow out a deep breath, rubbing the back of my neck. A hangover and stress are so not a good combination. Lucky for me, Piper’s couch is comfortable, although, with the amount of alcohol I consumed, I don’t think an uncomfortable couch would have prevented me from passing out. I borrowed some of her clothes, which I’m thankful for, but the workday dragged, and I’m itching for a shower and my own clothes.
I smooth my face into an impassive mask and open the door, but instead of finding them together, I find…nothing. The house is empty, and Ryan is nowhere to be found. His car is here, so that means he’s with her. In the apartment. I let out a disbelieving laugh. I don’t know what’s worse. Her being here or him being there. There’s no way he didn’t hear my car.
My heart clenches, and I’m at a loss for what to do. I expected him to be here. To be apologetic, begging for my understanding or forgiveness or something…Not this. This complete and utter indifference.
Is he angry at me? He doesn’t have a right to be fucking angry at me. I’m the one that was lied to. That was deceived.
What happened after I left? The house is as neat as a pin, so obviously he cleaned up after their guests left. Did they do it together?
I shake off my thoughts and head to the shower. Instead of dwelling on it while I’m standing like an idiot in the middle of the lounge, at least I can get clean while dwelling on it.
By the time I’m done, Ryan’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He looks up and his eyes are red, his face drawn. He looks like shit. Silence stretches between us, and just as I’m feeling like I’m about to snap, he heaves a breath, his shoulders dropping in defeat.
“Hadley’s dad died last night. Well, early this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, not knowing what to feel.
Silence stretches again while I clutch the towel, feeling vulnerable.
“I know we’re not in a good place right now. You’re angry and upset, and I have a lot of explaining to do. The word sorry doesn’t even come close to what I owe you,” he says, blowing out a deep breath, and I brace myself. I know he’s going to say “but,” and everyone knows that anything that follows a “but,” completely invalidates what came before it, “but she’s in a really bad spot right now, and she needs me.”
And there it is. There’s a plea in his eyes, begging me to understand, and what can I do other than nod? It doesn’t matter that I need him. That I need us. My needs stopped existing the day she arrived. Defeat is an ugly, ugly thing.
“Do what you need to do,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
“I’m sorry, Aspen,” he says again, and I want to scream at him to stop saying that. Stop saying sorry if you’re going to go ahead and hurt me, anyway. The worst thing? There’s not even a flicker of compassion in my heart. Not for him. Not for her. If Ryan hadn’t lied to me, we wouldn’t be in this position right now. If he had allowed me to be there for him instead of pushing me away, making it clear that Hadley wasn’t interested in anything from me and supporting her in that decision, we wouldn’t be in this position right now. If I wasn’t treated like an outsider, we wouldn’t be in this position right now.
So many damn ifs .
There’s an ocean between us as he gets up, nods, and walks out of the room without a backward glance. Without a touch.
Later on, I text him asking if I can get them something to eat. I don’t want to, but I will because I know if Mom’s looking down on me, she’d scold me for not turning the other cheek in this situation.
An hour later he responds with a “no, thank you.” That’s it. Nothing else.
And when I get into bed, he’s still not back.
When I wake up in the morning, I’m still alone in the house, his side of the bed undisturbed.
In the following days, I see little of Ryan, much less talk to him. I don’t see Hadley at all unless I’m glancing out the window when they’re leaving or returning from somewhere.
Some nights he doesn’t bother coming back, instead spending the night with her. And unless he’s spending it scrunched up on the single-seater, he’s spending it in her bed.
Each time I go to bed alone, something little inside me dies.
I’m not insensitive to what she’s going through. I know what grief can do to a person, but this whole situation is causing a sickness to fester in the pit of my stomach. It’s undeniable that she still has feelings for him, and now I’m wondering just how one-sided those feelings are.
He introduced her as a friend, omitting the important fact that they were married at some point. Why would he do that? We never got to have that conversation, and it’s there, firmly present in the front of my mind. And then the way he allowed her to monopolize his time from the minute she got here? Not only allowing it but gladly going along with it. I feel like the moment he saw her again; I got shoved to the side.
It’s like there’s a huge stopwatch in my head, ticking down the seconds. To what, I’m not sure. Although, if I have to be completely honest with myself, I do know, I just don’t want to admit it.
Because then I’d have to think of what might be happening in the apartment on the nights that he spends with her. Grief has an incredible way of bonding people.
Before she came, I believed with my whole being that Ryan loved me. That we were making a life together. Now, I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not sure about anything anymore.
The few times I do see him, things between us are strained. Not only that, he looks exhausted. Defeated. And like his mind is miles away. Like he can’t get away fast enough. Instead of confronting him, I close my mouth and swallow down all the words churning in my gut. That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Swallowing everything down.
Three nights ago, I cried myself asleep. I was on the cusp of sleep when Ryan came in. He must have thought—or hoped—that I was asleep because he tried to be quiet. But it was once he was settled, that he whispered, “I love you, Aspen,” before rolling over with a heavy sigh. Is this what our relationship has come to? Muted whispers in the dark of night? I couldn’t stop the tears, but at least they were silent.
Ryan told me in passing that he put in for personal leave. There is so much that needs to be done—funeral arrangements; packing up her father’s belongings; meeting with the Executor of his estate—and she needs him by her side for everything.
She’s going through the death of a loved one. And me? I’m going through the death of a relationship.
Ryan
When it rains, it pours.
Aspen has pulled away, completely.
To blame her would be completely unfair, yet a small part of me does.
I’ve told her I love her, that she’s it for me. Why can’t she believe me? Why can’t she see this for what it is? That I’m supporting a friend who has no one else? She’s allowed her insecurities to come between us, and it’s making this situation more difficult. I’m trying to be there for Hadley, but who’s there for me?
I know I messed up by not telling her that Hadley and I were married. It was a decision I made, and in hindsight, it was the wrong one. The guilt I feel for that is overwhelming. Especially when I look in her eyes and I see the betrayal shining back at me. I’m the one who should have told Aspen, and I could have killed Hadley for saying it, but I can’t blame Hadley for my sins. How could she have known I was keeping it from Aspen? I never asked her to keep it quiet, so that’s on me. I just assumed that it was in the past and that’s where it would stay. Stupid of me. I had my reasons for not telling her and she deserves an explanation. But explaining it to her will take time. Time I don’t have right now. But we’ve been together long enough that she should know me. Have faith in me.
I should have done everything differently. Fuck keeping up appearances with Benjamin and Nicole. I should have somehow stopped her from leaving and sent Benjamin and Nicole home. Or better yet, given Hadley my car keys and told her to take them somewhere else.
But I thought I’d have time. How was I supposed to know Hadley’s dad was going to pass away right then? It’s the worst timing, almost like the universe is throwing me a big “fuck you.” Which is a terrible thing to think because I’m making it about myself. I never liked the man, and he never liked me, but it’s not like he consciously picked his moment of death.
I was driving myself crazy, waiting for Aspen to come home. Then she texted, saying she was staying over at Piper, and if I didn’t know I was in trouble before, that cemented it. I was in bed, pondering my miserable life decisions, when I heard the front door open. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, thinking she had changed her mind, but my happiness changed to confusion when a sobbing Hadley stumbled into my room instead.
She almost tackled me and it was all I could do to make out what she was saying between her sobs.
She had just received the call, and instead of comforting her, all I could think was what would Aspen think if she came home and found Hadley and me in our bed. I hustled her back to the apartment as fast as I could, and basically, that’s where I’ve been.
And then there’s Hadley. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling a touch of resentment towards her. She’s not allowing me a minute to catch my breath. To just think and sort through everything and come up with a plan to fix things.
I’m handling everything wrong. I can see it and I don’t know what to do about it.
My heart hurts for Hadley. Where I struck the jackpot with my parents, she got the complete opposite. She once confided in me she hoped that once her parents got older and their lives calmed down, they’d realize that they loved her. Hearing that nearly broke me. For the first time in my life, I resented the promise I made to keep the circumstances of Hadley’s conception a secret. The truth would hurt her for sure, but at least she’d know why they treated her the way they did. To know that their lack of love wasn’t because of anything she did. It was their inability to look beyond what happened and love her for who she was. It would take work, but with counseling, she’d eventually be able to make peace with it and move on. If not for that promise and Dad’s trust, I would have told her.
Both her parents are gone now, and none of that ever happened. She hasn’t said anything about it, but she can’t hide the devastation in her eyes. Not from me.
“So, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” Hadley asks, exasperated.
No, I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about Aspen. About how much I miss her, and how I hoped that tonight I’d be able to spend the night with her. Just the two of us. That was until Hadley had to pick a casket. She couldn’t answer the Funeral Director when he asked what her dad would have liked.
Driving back, she confessed through tears that she knows nothing about him. That she doesn’t even know how he took his tea. She cut me off when I gently suggested that we get Hannah or Bailey—both even—over to distract her, saying that she wasn’t feeling up to it.
Come to think of it, she has displayed no desire to see them since she’s been back.
She turns her laptop screen towards me, and I frown when I take in the pictures. It’s a resort, and it looks breathtaking. One image shows a massive swimming pool with a bridge crossing over it. Others show endless vistas of white sandy beaches hugging crystal-clear ocean water.
“What is this?” I ask, scrunching my face up in confusion.
“Do you remember your promise?”
Her voice is soft, hesitant, and she’s looking at the floor as if she’s scared to meet my eyes. “We’ll both be thirty soon.”
It hits me then. Fuck, she’s right. It’s Tenerife. She’s shown me enough pictures over the years that I’m surprised I didn’t recognize it immediately. In fact, I’ve completely forgotten about it. And my promise.
But that was years ago. Surely she can’t still think to keep to it?
But when she finally meets my eyes, I can see that yes, she does. And the way her shoulders drop, her hands curling in her lap as if she’s bracing herself, she’s fully expecting me to back out of it. To let her down, just like every other important person in her life.
“Hadley…”
“It’s okay, Ryan. I understand.”
No, she doesn’t. If it wasn’t for Aspen, I would be on a plane in a heartbeat. What the hell am I supposed to do now? We were broke college students when we got married. We said we’d save up for a honeymoon, but then five months later, I asked for a divorce. Guilt led me to the promise I made to her. A promise that we’ll stay friends forever. That we’ll take this trip to her dream destination before we turn thirty.
“It’s complicated.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You’ve done so much for me already, and the last thing I want to do is cause you any hurt.” She swipes a tear from her cheek, her lips trembling as she attempts a smile for me. “I could never do anything to hurt you, Ryan. Tell me you know that?”
I nod because there’s not one instance I can think of that Hadley hasn’t been in my corner. Where she hasn’t been there for me. I know, even while in London, if I needed her, all I would have to do is call her, and she’d be on the next flight out. I understood why she moved away and never held it against her.
And with my hesitance, I’ve just proved to her I’m exactly like everyone else in her world. It kills me that instead of recrimination, all I see is acceptance and resignation as if this would be the only possible outcome.
“And I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.” Just like I would never want to hurt Rose, or anyone I care about.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing with Aspen?” A voice whispers in the back of my head.
“I think I’m going to lie down for a while. Today has been…hard.”
“Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here,” I say with a strained smile.
“Thank you. You’ve always looked out for me, and I want you to know that regardless of what you decide to do, I’ll be okay. I’m always okay.”
I wait for her to get to her room before I drop my head into my hands, the weight of the world on my shoulders. No matter which way I turn, I’m screwed.