Chapter Twenty-Two - Rachel
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rachel
Present
“I’m sorry, go back. A date?”
I tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear as I fold the laundry. Lyla and Dominic are playing with a mix of action figures and dolls, so lost in their own world that I’m not in danger of being overheard.
“You heard correctly,” I tell Elli.
“And what does Ryder think about that?”
“Does it matter?”
“So, he’s pissed.”
“Again, does it matter?” I ask, and I hate that it’s a question I’ve been asking myself on repeat since last night.
“Seems like it should. You’re so well suited for each other, and you seem intent on fighting that.”
“Because we tried once, and… it didn’t end well.”
There’s a thoughtful pause before she finally asks, “What happened?”
It’s not that my history with Ryder is a secret, but for some reason, the idea of digging through the past isn’t something I can bring myself to do right now.
Not after last night. Not after Ryder spent all night sending me awe-filled looks that had me second-guessing every rule I put in place for us, only for him to remind me that he’s an egotistical bastard.
Who even said you were in the running?
I used to be.
What right does he have to throw that in my face?
“It’s a long story that I’ll tell you another time, I promise.” I set down the clothes and fall into a chair. “Jacob is good, Elli. He’s good and uncomplicated, and those are the things I need right now.”
“I know, I know. And, of course, I want you to be happy. Let me know how it goes tonight?”
“I will.” I look to Lyla and Dominic, who have ditched their toys in favor of wrestling. “I need to let you go. The kids are roughhousing, and I already know someone’s going to get hurt.”
Once I have the kids distracted with action figures and Barbie dolls again, it’s time to talk to Ryder.
When I accepted Jacob’s invitation last night, he didn’t waste any time, and we have reservations tonight. Since my parents have a dinner party and Meredith is working the night shift, Ryder will have to watch the kids.
I don’t like the idea of pushing the date in his face any more than I already have, but I can’t get around this.
With a deep breath, I step onto the back porch and pull out my phone. I’m not sure how long I stare at his contact, but my knuckles are sore by the time I finally press the call button.
I’ve decided he won’t answer by the third ring, but then the pool house door opens. When I turn toward it, Ryder is leaning against the door frame, his phone in one hand and a bored expression on his face.
“Can I help you?” he asks, in a tone that matches his expression and grates on my nerves.
Ryder is a gentleman and rarely anything but perfectly cordial toward me. He must still be angry about last night if he’s being frosty now.
I roll my shoulders back. “I was wondering if you’re staying home tonight or have other plans.”
“I won’t be leaving.”
Here goes nothing.
“I need you to watch the kids.”
I’m careful to refrain from phrasing it as a question. After all, he’s Lyla’s father and has every bit of the responsibility to her that I do, so it’s not like watching them is too much to ask. He was probably already planning on spending time with them.
He doesn’t ask where I’m going—he knows.
The temptation to give excuses is strong, but I remind myself that I don’t owe him anything.
We’re co-parents.
That’s it.
I lift my chin and brace for a fight. After all, that’s what happens when Ryder doesn’t get his way. He pushes me up against some wall and demands what he wants from me.
“I’ll watch them. Enjoy your night,” he says instead, shutting the pool house door behind him.
Did he just… walk away?
No demands. No questions. No arguments.
Nothing.
Jacob and I follow the hostess to our table, and I’m glad I’m wearing my nude flats and not a pair of heels. My ability to walk without complications allows me to take in my surroundings.
The restaurant that Jacob has brought me to is one of the nicest I’ve ever been to.
He told me to dress up, but even my light pink cocktail dress pales in comparison to the floor-length gowns that some women wear.
The color scheme of the restaurant is primarily tan and black, with lit candles and a small vase of chocolate orchids adorning pearl-white tablecloths.
We’re led to a table in the middle of the restaurant, and I’m both surprised and flustered when Jacob pulls out my chair for me as I sit. I accept the gesture with a shy smile, admiring his appearance as I do.
Jacob is handsome in his martial arts uniform, but now he is downright gorgeous. He wears black slacks and a matching button-up that’s left open on the top three buttons. The sleeves are rolled up just below his elbow, and each time he flexes, I get a good view of his muscular, veiny forearms.
He takes the seat across from me and flashes a Hollywood-worthy smile. “What do you think?”
“This is beautiful,” I say as I appreciate the lavish scenery once again.
The waiter comes over with two menus and a basket of bread that he sets in the center of the table.
“Mr. Torres,” the waiter greets. “Can I get you the usual?”
The usual?
“Please,” he answers, then gestures to me. “Do you have a wine preference?”
“Surprise me.”
Jacob’s grin widens. “The usual for us both, please.”
The waiter leaves us, and I busy myself looking at the menu. “Do you come here often?”
Jacob laughs, and it’s so carefree and genuine that I’m actually caught off guard. I like that sound. I like that sound a lot.
“They book out weeks in advance, but the manager is a childhood friend, so he gets me in when there are cancellations.” His cheeks flush even in the darkened room. “I usually come with my mother.”
That would explain why he wanted to go out so soon if he knew there was a cancellation.
“So, you know what I do for a living,” he says. “What about you?”
“I work at an accounting firm,” I tell him and wave off his widened eyes. “I know, really boring, right?”
He laughs again. “Not at all. I’ve always been horrible with numbers. My manager, Elizabeth, has to help with anything bookkeeping-related. Did Lyla get her mother’s genius?”
I repress my growing smile at the compliment. “She’s smart, but I’m not sure I had anything to do with it. I’m afraid she got more of her father’s stoicism than anything.”
“She’s always been a quiet kid?” he half-states, half-asks.
I nod. “More so lately. Martial arts has been really good for her. She’s been through a lot.”
“I didn’t know that,” he says with perfect sincerity. “Can I ask what happened?”
I consider my words and decide to go as close to the truth as I can.
“A few weeks ago, Lyla and I were involved in an accident in LA when we went to visit her dad. She’s been jittery and afraid to be alone since then. Martial arts is helping bring her confidence back.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it’s helping.”
The waiter comes back with our drinks, and we order our food. He orders the steak, and I order the ravioli.
When Jacob asks if I have any hobbies, I tell him. “True crime shows and shooting.”
“Shooting? Like guns?” he asks, and I realize that probably wasn’t the best topic for a first date, but his expression seems more impressed than appalled.
“Yeah, Lyla’s father taught me how when I was pregnant, and it’s been a soothing habit ever since.”
As I tell him, I realize it’s been far too long since I’ve gone. I make a mental note to rectify that.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone refer to shooting as soothing, but I admire the interest.”
Jacob tells me about his shooting experience and the other martial arts styles he trains in. I smile and laugh when expected but can’t help noticing the lack of anything resembling a spark.
But that’s okay, right?
Jacob is a great guy. We share interests and ambitions—he’s an extremely attractive man, and he’s great with kids. By all logic and reason, I should be head over heels for a man like him.
Our food comes, and we eat in content silence before moving to the topic of our childhood.
Jacob tells me how he moved eight times during his twelve years of grade school due to his father’s work in the military.
Then I share that I’m Sacramento born and raised, only having left for a few months during my pregnancy.
The conversation continues, and before I know it, the restaurant has begun to clear out. Jacob takes the check and leads us to his car.
The radio plays nineties hits while we discuss how good the food was, and I can’t help but feel like I’m hanging out with Alec, Elli, or Meredith. The easy conversation and light-hearted atmosphere bring comfort, but no hint of flame.
And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Sparks and flames may warm the heart, but they’re also unpredictable, flickering one moment, then burning everything in their wake the next.
Jacob can give me stability, affection, and a normal life.
We pull up to my house, and Jacob opens my door for me—ever the gentleman. He places a hand on my lower back and leads me to the front porch. When we get there, I don’t search my purse for my key. I only look at Jacob with a coy smile.
“I had a great time tonight,” I tell him. “I’d love to do this again.”
He returns my smile, but there’s an edge of sadness to it.
“I would, too,” he says, then sighs, dropping the smile altogether. “But I’m not sure we should.”
My mouth falls in an O-shape, and I honestly have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that.
“You’re an amazing woman, Rachel. I really enjoyed spending time with you, but I’m not sure the timing is right.”
“What do you mean?”
“You brought up Lyla’s father in every conversation we had, and I don’t even think you realized it. I don’t know the situation, but whatever it is, I don’t think it’s over.”
I shake my head with a faint, disbelieving laugh. “There is nothing going on between Lyla’s father and me. We have a complicated history, but we’re way over it.”
“I’m not sure someone who let Elizabeth refer to you as his wife is way over it.”
Ryder did that? Why wouldn’t he have cleared that up? I’m sure it was just an oversight or that Ryder didn’t hear her correctly.
“Like I said, I really like you, Rachel, but I’m looking for someone who can be all in. If you feel like that’s something you’re ready for, then I’d be honored to take you out again.”
It’s right there.
He’s offering me the life Ryder never could. All I need to do is open my mouth and tell him yes, that I can be all in with him.
So, why am I picturing Ryder right inside that door?
Why is it him that I want to stand here with this offer?
I can practically feel how his warmth would radiate onto me, how my body would subconsciously lean toward him, how we’d be wrapped up in each other’s embrace before we even knew what was happening.
And I know that Jacob’s right.
My silence is enough of an answer for us both.
“Thank you for a lovely night, Rachel,” he says, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. When he leans back, his smile is polite. “I hope you know there’s no ill will here, and I hope you’ll keep bringing Lyla to class. She’s a great kid.”
I murmur my thanks and watch Jacob walk to his car in long, confident strides.
I fish for my key, unlock the door, and wait to hear any sign of life from Ryder or the kids, but there’s nothing. I don’t hear the TV, Ryder’s low voice, or Dominic’s wild antics.
I reach for my phone to call Ryder when I hear a high-pitched squeal from outside. My feet carry me as my mind paints all the horrific images a mother never wants to think of. When I get to the back door and pull it open, I’m frozen in place at what I see in the backyard.
The pool area is a complete disaster. Way more than three towels are laid around the patio, some looking like they were actually thrown into the pool.
Water guns, pool noodles, and blow-up floats are scattered everywhere.
Two open pizza boxes, several paper plates and cups, and a two-liter bottle of soda litter the table on the deck, but that’s not what I can’t look away from.
It’s almost ten o’clock—long past Lyla and Dominic’s bedtime—but here they are, swimming in the pool in their swim vests and matching goggles.
“My turn! My turn!” Dominic shouts.
Ryder stands in the middle of the pool, bare from the waist up, and picks up the boy with ease before throwing him across the pool. Dominic squeals in delight before splashing into the water.
Lyla paddles toward her father. “Me again! Please, Daddy!”
He does the same to her while Dominic swims over for his next turn.
Though I haven’t made a sound, Ryder turns to face me, flicking water from his face. As soon as his eyes are on me, my stomach flips, my lungs compress, and my skin tingles with the sparks I spent all night searching for.
I’m not a stranger to Ryder’s body, but it’s been years since I’ve seen the meticulously sculpted muscles he still works diligently to maintain.
Ryder’s white swim trunks hang low on his waist, and the contrast of the white fabric against his black skin makes him look angelic, but there’s nothing pure about the hungry gaze that ravishes me now.
Jacob was right. I haven’t moved on, and I’m starting to doubt I ever will.
So, instead of yelling about how late it is or how impossible it seems for only three people to have made the disastrous mess, I simply descend the deck stairs and grab two dry towels.
“Come on, kids. Let’s dry off and get ready for bed.”