Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
“I think lasagna for breakfast is an excellent choice, don’t you?” I ask as I take another bite from my perch on Ryan’s kitchen island. The cheese is a little dark, and the noodles are crispy around the outside, but I think it’s perfect. We made this—together.
“The best. Do you think this will be our signature dish, or should we try to learn how to cook something else before we decide?” he teases before taking his plate to the sink and rinsing it off.
After taking a shower last night, Ryan left me in bed so he could lock up and put the lasagna in the fridge. We agreed it wasn’t ideal picnic food, and instead he returned with crackers and cheese, cherries, and chocolate-covered almonds.
I watch him quietly move around the kitchen, going through the familiar motions of grinding coffee beans and making his morning coffee.
His sweatpants hang low on his hips, showing off the V that all women love, and he didn’t bother putting on socks or a shirt.
His hair is all over the place, and I estimate he has three days’ beard growth on his face.
I found out that he only recently started wearing glasses and does so reluctantly.
Well, they are on his face this morning, and I’m not mad about it.
“Can I ask you something?” I blurt out, then close my eyes and sigh, wishing I could retract the random question that popped into my brain.
“Sure. What do you want to know?” Pouring us each a coffee, he brings them to where I’m sitting, then returns to the fridge to collect the white chocolate mocha creamer he bought for me yesterday. Sitting on a stool, he waits for me to ask.
“Will you tell me about your tattoo?” I ask hesitantly.
Leaning his elbows on the counter, he runs a thumb back and forth over his lower lip. Nodding slowly, he meets my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I’ll tell you, but can you tell me how you knew I had one first? It’s been bothering me for months.”
One night at Bob’s, Logan had been teasing Carson about getting a tattoo. He’s terrified of needles and pointed out Ryan didn’t have any either. I knew better and said so. Ryan wasn’t happy about it, and I regretted it immediately. But now that I have seen it, I need to know.
“I didn’t know what you got, but I remember when you got it,” I say, pushing aside my plate and picking up my steaming mug.
“How?” His forehead furrows. “I went after hours and there wasn’t anyone but Banks and me in the studio.”
“I was still an apprentice and had forgotten my jacket in the breakroom earlier that day. When I came back, you were on his table. I thought nothing of it because Banks has never kept regular hours. Neither of you noticed I was there, so I left. To be honest, I never thought of it again until you said you didn’t have one. ”
“Okay,” he says, biting the inside of his lip. “The tattoo is part of a much bigger story.” He stands from his stool and blows out a large breath. “This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go.”
He reaches for my hand. Setting my coffee down, I let him help me jump down from the counter.
“What do you mean?” I ask as he leads me by the hand towards the couch in the living room.
“Well, for one, I thought we would be wearing more clothes.” His gaze travels the length of my body before he meets my eyes and sits down.
“Hmm,” I hum, glancing down at my black tank and boy-cut underwear I’m wearing. Shrugging, I say, “I think clothes are overrated.”
Facing him, I sit down cross-legged. He quirks one side of his mouth and tosses a cream-coloured fleece throw at me.
Chuckling, I cover my lap. “Better?”
“Marginally. You’re always a welcome distraction, but if I’m going to get through this, I need you covered up a bit.”
Leaning back on the couch, he stares at the flicker of flames in the fireplace. A moment passes before he rolls his head on the cushion and meets my eyes.
“I don’t talk about this very often. Nobody locally knows, not even Carson, and I would like to keep it that way. The last person I discussed it with was my therapist.”
Tilting my head, I ask, “You see a therapist?”
“Yeah. I check in once a month. I’ve been seeing the same one for years.” He pauses and looks at me pointedly. “That reminds me. Have you made an appointment with your new counsellor yet?”
“No,” I mumble. When he raises his eyebrow, I roll my eyes. “I will, okay? Soon.”
I think about what he says about nobody else knowing. Everything between us is so new. I don’t want him to feel pressured into confiding in me.
“You don’t have to tell me; it’s really none of my business. I’m just being nosey,” I ramble.
“No, I want to tell you.” He sits up straighter and places his hand over mine. “Remember, this all happened a long time ago. A lot has changed since then.”
When I nod my head in agreement, he continues.
“As Vaughan overshared when we were at The Riff, we spent a lot of our teenage years causing havoc, getting into trouble, and partying. After high school, we applied to the same university, and they accepted both of us. In retrospect, I’m sure my father had to pull strings for me to get in.
” He scratches his eyebrow before continuing.
“Vaughan’s family had very high expectations, so he buckled down and took his classes seriously. I did not. Three or four times a week—maybe more—I would be out at the bar or attending a party. I rarely went to class or handed in assignments. By the end of the first year, I was kicked out.”
“That sounds nothing like you.” I’m having a difficult time imagining this serious, successful man as the wild child he’s describing.
“But it was,” he says, emotion thick in his voice.
“I didn’t care about school—that was just the place all my friends were.
My parents paid for my apartment. I had a generous allowance and a Visa with no limit.
Given my track record, my parents expected little of me.
At some point, they would have stuck me in a token position within my father’s company for appearances’ sake and pray I didn’t embarrass them more than I already had. ”
I suspected Ryan’s family was wealthy from the bits and pieces he’s shared as we’ve gotten to know each other better.
Boarding school. Nannies. Cottage. But unlimited access to money as a twenty-year-old still catches me off guard.
I can’t help but wonder what kind of parents hand over that much freedom without setting some limits.
Was the money meant to fill their absence in his life?
“Did you and Vaughan continue to live with each other after boarding school?”
“No, we were getting sick of each other by then.” He chuckles. “He had his own place not too far away. But Lily lived with me—unofficially.” His entire chest rises as he takes a large breath.
I remain still, waiting for him to continue. I’ve been curious about his mysterious Lily since the first time I heard her name.
“We knew each other since we were children and started seeing each other in our senior year of high school. A real good girl, bad boy situation. I had way too much fun trying to corrupt her. We planned to move in together right away, but her parents forbade it. They wanted better for their only daughter, and I don’t blame them.
They got her an apartment with a couple of roommates, but she spent most nights at mine, anyway. ”
While he’s been talking, he has absentmindedly begun tracing the lines of my tattoos with his fingertips up and down my arm. I have questions, but I don’t want to interrupt him.
“Lily was so smart. Straight A student. Unlike me, she rarely missed a class or a lecture. An amazing artist. Always doodling. Loved poetry. Like Vaughan, she was growing out of the party scene by the time we hit university—more focused on her future. She would come out with me occasionally on the weekend but was just as happy staying home. This went on for three years. While she was busy with school and her internship, I was hanging out with friends and acting like I always had. She was getting sick of my bullshit and was patiently waiting for me to grow up. She loved me,” he says sadly.
“But I didn’t love her enough to change. ”
I can hear how he is talking about her in the past tense. Their breakup must have been brutal.
He lowers his head and takes several deep breaths before meeting my eyes again.
“She graduated with a master’s in journalism and had landed her dream job.
Her parents threw her a party to celebrate.
She hadn’t been feeling great for several days but didn’t want to disappoint them, so we went.
Of course, I drank more than I should have and embarrassed her in front of her family.
I can’t remember exactly what I did, but she was angry. Livid.”
He surprises me when he stands abruptly and cups both his hands over his nose and mouth.
After closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself, he drops his hands by his sides and says, “I need a drink of water. Do you want one?” He rushes to the fridge and grabs two bottles, before I have a chance to answer.
Opening one, he quickly drinks down half before securing the lid and returning to the couch.
Sinking back down beside me, he hands me my bottle, and I place it unopened on my lap.
I’ve never seen him this agitated before.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I thread my fingers through his and wait for him to continue.
“When we got back to my apartment that night, we had the biggest fight we had ever had. I said a lot of things I regret. She told me that if I didn’t get my act together, it was over. I didn’t believe her. I left the apartment angry. How dare she give me an ultimatum and try to control me?”
He releases my hand to open his bottle of water and finishes it in a few large gulps before he speaks again.