6. Ryan
Three hours. That’s what we have, and I’m not wasting a fucking second of them.
Roman is in Boston until sometime tonight.
Jane has a migraine and went back to bed after breakfast. As far as either of them knows, Ally took Tobias to spend the afternoon with one of his friends, which is close enough to the truth that I’m not going to complain about it.
He has friends here. They’re just all significantly older than him.
“This isn’t going to work,” I say.
Tobias looks up from the sheet of paper spread across my parents’ coffee table. “Yes, it is.”
“You have a couch, a laundry basket, two pieces of string, and what appears to be a drawing of a hole.”
“It’s a trap for the leprechaun.” Tobias twists around on the rug. “Walter heard him.”
Ally looks up from the notebook balanced against her knees, already smiling. “Did he?”
Dad finally lowers his book. “I did.”
“You did not.”
He ignores me. “Last night. Around midnight.”
Tobias abandons his trap completely. “What did he sound like?”
Dad considers it. “Sneaky.”
“What does sneaky sound like?”
“Very quiet.” Tobias waits, and Dad lowers his voice for effect. “I was right there on that couch. Didn’t move for almost an hour.”
I stare at him. Ally is trying not to laugh.
“And then?” Tobias asks.
“Then I heard it.”
“What?”
“A crunch.”
Tobias gasps. Ally loses it.
I rub a hand over my face. “You were eating pretzels.”
“That is one theory,” Dad says. He points toward the kitchen. “Your Cassandra heard it too.”
Mom appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. “Your Walter ate half a bag of pretzels at midnight and then blamed a mythical creature when I asked what he was doing.”
Tobias looks devastated. Dad immediately sits forward. “That does not prove there wasn’t also a leprechaun.” Mom gives him a look. Dad shrugs. “I’m keeping an open mind.”
Tobias’s face brightens again. “Can I stay here tonight and help you catch him?”
“No,” Ally and I say at the same time.
He looks between us. “Why?”
“Because your father thinks you’re at a playdate until five,” Ally reminds him.
“Oh.”
“And because I’m not sleeping on the couch all night hunting little men with you,” I add.
“You don’t have to.”
“Excellent.”
“Walter can.”
Dad points at him. “Now we’re talking.”
Mom sighs and walks back toward the kitchen, and I catch Ally smiling from the other end of the couch.
This is why we’re here. Not because we need to talk about Roman.
Not because Dad has information coming from Arthur or because Mom might’ve heard something through one of her sources.
For three hours, I don’t want any of that shit.
I want this — Ally curled into the corner of my parents’ couch in leggings and one of my sweatshirts, her notebook open across her thighs.
Tobias on the rug with enough craft supplies to bankrupt a kindergarten classroom.
Dad encouraging whatever insane thing comes out of his mouth.
Mom pretending she isn’t listening from the kitchen even though she hasn’t stopped smiling since they got here.
Normal. Or as close to normal as any of us seem capable of getting.
I drop onto the couch beside Ally and hook one hand around her ankle. She doesn’t even look up. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been writing nothing for an hour?”
“Yes.”
“Can I read it?”
“No.”
“One page.”
“No.”
“Paragraph?”
“No.”
“Sentence?”
She finally looks at me. “Why?”
“Because I’m supportive.”
“You’re nosy.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Her mouth twitches. I tug gently on her ankle until she uncurls her legs, then pull them across my lap.
She lets me, and that’s my favorite part — no glance toward the windows first, no listening for a door opening somewhere behind us, no pulling away because somebody might see my hand slide along her calf.
She just settles against the couch and keeps writing while I touch her, because here, for three fucking hours, I’m allowed to be her boyfriend.
I rub my thumb along her ankle. “Seriously. What is it?”
“An idea.”
“For?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Story?”
“Maybe.”
“Book?”
“Maybe.”
“Something you’re going to publish?” Her pen stops. There. I grin.
She looks over at me. “You’re annoying.”
“You should.”
“Should what?”
“Publish something.”
“I haven’t even written anything yet.”
“You’re writing something right now.”
“Three pages isn’t a book.”
“Seems like a start.”
She looks down at the notebook, and I don’t push. She’ll get there. Her teacher saw it too. The difference is I get to keep reminding her until she believes it.
I lean over and kiss her temple. Tobias looks up from the floor. “Gross.” I kiss her again. “Stop.”
“Now I’m doing it because you hate it.”
Ally laughs. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I don’t like kissing,” Tobias declares.
“You will.”
“No.”
“Excellent. Stay like that until you’re thirty.”
He looks offended. “That’s old.”
Dad lowers his book again. “Watch it.”
I reach for the bowl of pretzels sitting beside Ally. She moves it. I reach farther. She moves it again. “Seriously?”
“They’re mine.”
“They were mine when I brought them in here.”
“You left them unattended.”
“I went to the bathroom.”
“Exactly.”
“That isn’t how ownership works.”
“It is now.”
I stare at her as she eats one, and Dad laughs. I point at him. “You’re encouraging theft.”
“I’m reading.”
Tobias looks over. “The leprechaun steals pretzels.”
“Thank you. Finally, someone is considering another suspect.” I stare at my father. Ally starts laughing again.
I steal a pretzel while Ally is distracted, and she slaps my hand. “Ow.”
“Criminal.” She reaches into the bowl again and frowns when her fingers scrape the bottom. “Why are these almost gone?”
I slowly turn my head, and she looks at me. “You ate them.”
“I’ve had four. I haven’t eaten that many.”
“Baby, I’ve literally watched you eat them for the last hour.”
“I have not.”
“You have.”
She looks into the bowl like someone might have broken into the house and emptied it while she wasn’t paying attention. Then she shrugs. “Well, your baby is making me starving today, so this sounds like your problem.”
Tobias gasps. Ally freezes. The room does too. “Baby?”
Her eyes fly to mine. Fuck.
“What baby?” he asks.
“Toby—“
“Ryan has a baby?”
“No, I—“
“Where is it?”
“Tobias, wait!”
“Is it here?”
“Toby.”
“Can I see it?”
“Just give me—“
“Is it your baby too?” Ally puts the bowl down too fast, and pretzels scatter across the coffee table. Tobias doesn’t notice. “Is it in your tummy?”
Her face drains of color. “Tobias.”
“Is that why you get sick?”
“Toby, please!”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“How big is it?”
“I—“
“Can it hear me?”
“Tobias, give me a second!”
“Can I touch it?”
“Please stop asking questions.”
“Does Mom know?”
“No.”
“Does Dad?”
“No!”
“Does Victor?”
“No.”
His forehead wrinkles, and then his face clears like he’s figured something out. “Is it Victor’s?”
“No!” Ally’s scream cracks through the room. Tobias jerks backward, his marker falling from his hand. “No.” She’s already on her feet. “It is not Victor’s! Don’t ever fucking say that!”
“Ally,” I say quietly. She doesn’t hear me.
“It has nothing to do with Victor. Nothing! Do you understand me?”
Tobias’s eyes go wide. “I just thought—“
“It’s Ryan’s. It is Ryan’s baby, and you cannot tell anyone about it!”
“I won’t.”
“No, Toby, listen to me. You cannot tell Dad. You cannot tell Victor. You can’t say anything to Mom unless I tell you it’s okay. You can’t tell your friends at school. You can’t tell your teacher. You cannot tell anybody.”
“I won’t!”
“You can’t talk about it at home either. You can’t ask me questions about the baby. You can’t draw pictures and leave them somewhere. You can’t say anything about me being sick or eating more or—“
“I said I won’t!”
“I know what you said, but you don’t understand how careful you have to be!”
His face starts to fall.
I sit forward. “Ally.”
She keeps going. “If Dad asks what you did today, you don’t mention this house! You don’t mention Ryan! You don’t say anything about a baby!”
“I know!”
“And if Victor comes over, you don’t say anything to him. Nothing, Toby! You cannot forget.”
“I won’t!”
“You forget things all the time!”
His eyes fill. Ally doesn’t see it. She’s too far inside her own head now. “I said I won’t tell!”
“I know, but you don’t understand what happens if Dad finds out!”
“I won’t tell him!”
I stand and make my way to her. “Ally.”
“I need him to understand.”
“He understands.”
“No, he doesn’t!” She turns on me for half a second before looking back at Tobias.
“He’s six, Ryan. He doesn’t understand what Dad will do if he finds out I’m pregnant.
He doesn’t understand what Victor could do.
He doesn’t understand that Dad could start asking him questions and he could answer one without even realizing what he’s saying! ”
“I won’t!” Tobias’s voice breaks.
Ally flinches but doesn’t stop. “I can’t fix this if Dad finds out. Do you understand me? I can’t take it back. I can’t—“ I step directly in front of her. She tries to look around me. “Tobias, listen to me.”
I catch her face between my hands. “Baby.”
“Move.”
“No. Look at me.” Her eyes finally meet mine, and they’re wild. Not angry. Terrified.
“I messed up,” she says.
“You let something slip.”
“About our baby.”
“I know.”
“Stop fucking saying you know!” Her voice breaks. I don’t raise mine. I don’t need to.
“You’re scaring him,” I tell her. Everything in her face changes. Her eyes immediately try to go around me. I keep her with me. “No. Me first.”
“I scared him?”
“You got scared, and it came out angry.”
“I wasn’t angry at him.”
“I know.”
“I would never—I need him to know that.” Her hands come up around my wrists. “What if he tells them?”
“Then we deal with it.”
“You can’t deal with my father knowing I’m pregnant.”
“We deal with it.”
“Ryan—“
“Together.” Her mouth closes. I brush my thumbs beneath her eyes. “You don’t have to make Tobias understand every terrible thing that could happen. He’s six. He needs to know what we’re asking him to do, and he needs to know he’s safe.”