7. Ryan
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ryan
“Here is the gorgeous kitchen. The appliances are brand new, and the cabinets have all been repainted.”
My eyes trail the room the real-estate agent is showing, my mind barely present. I’m faintly aware the kitchen is great. It’s open and spacious, and the fridge has a screen on it that I probably wouldn’t know how to work. But it doesn’t spark an ounce of emotion within me.
I’m supposed to be finding a home. A place where I’ll spend the next five or ten years of my life, maybe forever. Yet, my brain is stuck on the events of last night.
The agent leads me upstairs, her hips swaying as she walks. We enter a large bedroom, and she turns to me with a seductive smile.
“This is where the magic happens.” She accentuates the joke with a lick of her lips, and I smile politely.
Each time we meet, her skirts get shorter and tighter, and I’d also bet the number of buttons undone on her shirt is rapidly increasing.
The fact that I’m not currently seeing her bra is a goddamn miracle.
She’s been flirty since our first meeting, and I figured it would help her find better houses for me.
Still, that doesn’t mean I’m interested.
With her corporate attire, long, slicked back hair, and giant eyelashes, she looks just like the girl I would have fun with back in the city.
We’d get a few drinks after work, she’d pretend to laugh at my jokes, I’d pretend to care about whatever she was saying, and we’d end the night in my apartment. The next day, it’d be back to business.
My temples pulse at the mere thought. Most things that remind me of the life I’ve left behind trigger my headache. Even the ones that were a massive stress reliever back then.
“The bed is a king size, of course, and the room has matching his and her walk-in closets. A dream for any lucky lady that finds herself using it,” the agent adds. She definitely deserves an A for her efforts, but it’s getting tiring.
Am I leading her on?
I endure the rest of the tour, but I’m fairly certain this isn’t the house for me. It’s too massive. Too fancy. It’d be just what I’d choose while I was in the city. Not anymore, though.
“I see you’re not thrilled with this one, but you should really think about it. Houses like these don’t come around often.” Her hand snakes out to land a friendly touch to my elbow. Too friendly for a business relationship.
A knot forms in my stomach, knowing I have to put an end to this. “Look, Isabelle. I’m grateful for your help, but I think it’d be best if we keep our relationship professional.”
The expression on her face falls in an instant. The corners of her mouth lower, shock evident in her eyes. I hate it.
I hate disappointing people, so I quickly backtrack, “You’re a beautiful woman.” Her lips pull upward. “You truly are…. But I’m actually seeing someone.” My head pulses with the lie.
She exhales a breath of relief, plastering a smile too wide for the occasion. “Oh, of course.” She waves me off. “I was just being friendly, but if you mind, I can stop it.”
“I think it would be best.”
It was a cowardly thing to do. Parker would have my ass for this. I should’ve just told her I wasn’t interested, but the look of dejection she sported for a second made me take the easier route. The deceiving, but easier route.
Conflict is another thing I can’t do anymore. Not without enduring debilitating pain. Finance is filled with sharks, people waiting to bite your head off. I was one of them before it became too much.
Isabelle drives off as I stare into the distance with my hands in my pockets. After last night, my head was killing me, so I smoked a joint, took two painkillers, and went to bed, unable to process everything that happened.
Mom is getting married. As far as I know, she only had a couple of short-term relationships after Dad died twenty-four years ago. It took her almost fifteen years to go on a single date. And now she’s getting married.
Roger seemed like a cool guy when we met the other day, but what his daughters said about him doesn’t sound good. Or maybe they’re both just brats looking for attention. The hippie-looking one, I think her name is Emma, seems like the only nice one.
My thoughts drift to Paige as I drive on autopilot.
Seeing her at the restaurant was a shock.
At first, I barely recognized her without her bathrobe and the towel wrapped around her head.
But the deer caught in the headlights expression on her face was unmistakable.
The way her pale cheeks flushed almost made me forget the fact that she’s the daughter of the guy my mom is dating.
Then Roger and Mom told us they were getting married, and Paige told me what she thought of Mom.
Heat builds in my stomach at the memory.
The last time someone offended my mother in front of me, I punched him straight in the face and got a week of detention.
I can’t say I had the urge to do the same this time, but her insinuation pissed me the fuck off.
Who the fuck does she think she is? Daddy’s spoiled girl who thinks she can throw accusations at good people just because she didn’t get her way.
I don’t give two shits if she thinks I’m trying to mooch off Mom, but she sure as fuck shouldn’t be insinuating that Mom is doing the same to her precious father.
“How was the house?” Mom calls out as soon as I enter.
Our house smells like pancakes and home. The brown wallpaper still has the small tears I made when I was a kid, and it pains me to know neither of us will be living here soon.
“Good. Nothing special,” I respond and shuck the shoes off my feet. Mom has a strict no shoes in the house policy.
“Come here. I made food and you can tell me all about it.”
The only thing I want to do right now is cover my room in darkness and go lie down, but instead I do what she says. I find her in the kitchen wearing the off-white apron that has seen better days. She sports a wide smile, but I know exactly what’s behind it—worry.
She worries about my headaches. She worries about the fact that I dropped everything and moved back home.
And when it comes to the events that transpired yesterday, she worries more about me than herself.
Her heart is amazing, but the selflessness can become overwhelming.
How could I ever live up to that standard?
Another pang of pain zaps through my head, and Mom notices it straight away.
“Come. Sit. Eat.” She pulls out a chair for me, and I slump down into it.
“The house was great.” I place a couple of pancakes and a few pieces of bacon onto my plate and cut into it. It’s only ten am, and neither of us eats first thing in the morning, so it makes sense that the brunch she prepared is actually breakfast. “But it’s too big for me.”
She lets out a loving scoff. “Nonsense. You’ll have it filled in no time.”
I let out an internal sigh, not wanting to disappoint her.
Family used to be on my to-do list, along with climbing the corporate ladder and buying the best place money could buy.
However, just like my other previous goals, I’ve scrapped this one from the list, too.
It’s obvious I’m not cut out for stress, and there’s nothing more stressful than being a parent.
I adore Chrissy, but I know how much sleep Parker has lost over the years. I know how much he worries.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s for me.” I give her a vague answer.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find something just right for you. If you don’t, I meant what I said yesterday—this place is yours.” She sits across from me, filling her own plate.
“You’re really getting married?”
She stops her hand mid-motion and glances up at me. “I love him. I know it’s a shock to you.”
“What about what his daughters said? About his previous marriages?”
She lowers her fork onto her plate, wiping her hands with a napkin. “I know all about his past. He wasn’t a criminal or a sex offender, he just got married a few times. I’m good with it. You should be, too.”
I hesitate for a second, searching for the truth in her eyes. Eventually, I nod. “Fine. But he better not hurt you.”
That makes her smile, and we continue eating in comfortable silence.