Chapter 1 #2
I bit my lip, wondering if Ryan was already asleep.
A sliver of light slipped through the crack as I nudged open the door.
The unmade bed was messy, but Ryan was nowhere to be found.
The overhead light blazed to life as I flipped the switch.
Vacant. The second bedroom yielded the same results.
Come to think of it, Ryan’s parking spot had also been unoccupied.
I slapped a hand to my forehead. Of course he would still be working late.
I raced back to the van, the unethical high heels now crushing my toes.
Maneuvering into a metered parking spot, I groped for some crusty change in the console.
The entrance to Harrison & Coates was just around the corner.
The early October wind whipped through my hair and raised goosebumps along my bare arms. I hoped he wasn’t still in a meeting, but I doubted it. It was well past ten.
The large side windows offered me a glimpse inside the lobby as I walked along the building. The shining silver elevator sparked a memory that made me smile.
That same elevator had opened its doors twelve years ago before my twenty-two-year-old self had collided with a fitted suit jacket. My dignity fell to the floor alongside the manila folder I was supposed to deliver.
“Well, hello again.” The downright delectable man from the legal team we’d met with seemed to recognize me. Their firm represented an art handler that was frustrated with my boss, Barbara Gaines. His tall, muscular frame crouched and scooped up the folder.
“I presume these are for Mr. Harrison?” He offered a small, kind smile.
I swallowed hard and nodded. If there was a socially acceptable amount of time to stare at someone’s mouth, I had well surpassed it.
Were lips able to be perfectly curved like that? His full lips parted to reveal white teeth contrasting against his tan skin. His eyes held a twinkle of perpetual humor. Like a mischievous beach boy-turned-lawyer.
“Allow me.” He held open the elevator door before stepping into the quiet, intimate space. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Ryan Willis. And you are?”
I steeled myself for the inevitable confusion of my name.
“Amantha Adams,” I said, biting my lip.
Eyes the color of a deep blue lake shimmered as they gave me a blatant once-over. Ryan’s smile widened, as if he actually liked what he saw.
“Well, Amantha, it’s nice to meet you.”
I recovered from my shock slower than I would have liked. “It’s… It’s nice to meet you, too.” I ducked my head and immediately regretted my practical, scuffed loafers.
Ryan Willis seemed like the type of guy who would only date heels.
High ones.
“Your pen! I think you dropped this.” I scrambled like an idiot to grab the engraved pen glinting from the floor as the elevator dinged.
Ryan dragged a hand through his sandy blonde hair, as if he’d done it a million times in the presence of a drooling female.
Not going to lie, it felt flattering. Like I might be worthy enough to be one of those drooling females. He slid his hands into his pockets and presented me with an adorable yet devastatingly sexy dimple.
“Keep it. After all,” he said, stepping out of the elevator with the manila folder, “it has my number on it. I hope to hear from you soon, Amantha. Very soon.” He allowed me one more glimpse of that dimple before the doors sealed shut.
A fresh wave of October air slapped me in the face. I shivered, still standing a few yards away from the front door. An echo of butterflies past fluttered in my stomach.
Through the window, those same elevator doors sprang open with a faint chime. A smile broke across my face as Ryan stepped out. The man had aged like fine wine.
His gorgeous suit coat was open and unbuttoned. His tie hung loosely around his neck. So handsome.
My mouth ran dry. There had to be an ember that survived from our previous flame.
There had to be.
I tipped my head in confusion as my smile faltered.
A slender figure stepped out of the elevator with her fingers laced through Ryan’s. The woman’s tight black dress gave way to her long, caramel-colored legs.
Vanessa, his paralegal assistant, laughed and wiped away a smudge of lipstick on his cheek, her black hair fanning out behind them. I recognized the obnoxious sound of her laugh from the office Christmas party.
Ryan grinned back at her, running a hand through his sandy hair in that same, practiced movement.
A pang reverberated in my chest.
The blood drained from my face and pooled in my throbbing toes. Static buzzing filled my ears. I shifted, one of my high heels catching on a crack in the sidewalk. After stumbling back to the van, I dove inside, praying they hadn’t seen me.
The overhead light illuminated the cab until I slammed the door shut with a curse. I lay low in my seat, heart in my throat.
What is he doing?
Panic building, I peeked up to watch Ryan lead his beautiful assistant to the street corner in front of me and press the crosswalk button. Protecting her from the chilly wind, Ryan slipped his suit coat over her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss.
What a freaking gentleman.
His groping hands on Vanessa’s backside, however, seemed anything but gentlemanly.
My foot hovered mere inches above the gas pedal, itching to run them both over. Maybe a woman with more self-respect would have, or at least would’ve done something.
Instead, I sat pitiful and frozen, watching the father of my child stroll hand-in-hand with the woman wearing the dry cleaning I picked up last week.
The last ember of our marriage flared to life, white-hot and scalding, before it exploded. Ashes of memories floated away on the breeze. I clamped my brimming eyes shut, unwilling to watch anymore.
This isn’t real.
Tears trailed down my face.
Ryan still loves me, I know he does.
My trembling hands started the engine.
It’s a bad dream. A bad joke.
I fixed my tear-filled sight on my rearview mirror and disappeared into the night.
The line of ostentatious suburban homes was dark, our neighborhood quiet. Rows of white picket fences gleamed beneath alternating lamplight and moonlight. A strange, numbing calm settled inside my minivan. The false kind. The denial kind.
I stepped from the vehicle before kicking off the high heels. There, in the dark driveway, I hoisted my red dress to my armpits and peeled off both layers of the shaping shorts beneath. I pulled my dress back down to my knees, now bulging in places it wasn’t before.
There. Now I should be able to breathe.
My lungs only squeezed tighter. I sent both pairs of shapewear sailing into the night, where they landed with a splash.
A splash?
My eyebrows knitted together. I approached the near-black lawn, only stopping when gurgling water gushed over my sore toes.
A cracked sprinkler head.
My gaze hardened into shards of ice. A tremor of disbelief shook my whisper.
“Ryan promised me he’d turned these off.”
The first freeze had come early last week, though the current temperature was well above freezing. Ryan had assured me that he’d already winterized the outdoor irrigation system. The encased water must have frozen before cracking, breaking my entire belief system along with the sprinkler head.
“He lied.” The incredulous whisper hit me like a punch.
“He lied.” Another punch.
“He’s been lying.”
Bruises blossomed in my chest. Panic bubbled in my throat like the water on my lawn. How was I supposed to turn these off? How was I supposed to do life on my own?
Hot tears singed my cheeks in the chilly air. Fumbling for my phone in my ridiculous, bedazzled purse, I began texting Ryan to see where the shutoff was. But, my trembling fingers only sent my phone clattering to the cement.
Of course Ryan wouldn’t answer.
He’s busy.
I gripped the white picket fence, breathing hard through my nose as I tried to rid my mind of his pretty reason why.
The garage door swam in my vision as I stormed toward it.
After dragging Ryan’s screeching toolset across the pavement, I knelt in the filthy puddle.
The mud squelched around my bare knees, staining my red satin dress.
Using my phone as a flashlight, I fitted each obscure tool around the head of the sprinkler, twisting aimlessly to try to turn the stupid thing off. Something snapped inside me the second the black sprinkler head did the same.
Ignoring the fountain I created, I dropped whatever tool I’d been holding. A hollow realization settled in my chest that life as I knew it was irrevocably muffed.
“Squeaks? Is that you?” My dad, Frank, squinted into the blackness from the glowing front door.
“Yes. It’s me, Dad,” I said numbly.
“Hang on, let me shut that off!” Dad bellowed and disappeared into the house.
The gushing spout stilled into a trickle, the lawn falling silent. Dad had found the magic lever to an outside water main. The one I had never known about.
How could I have known?
All it took was one look at Anthony’s darkened bedroom window for the oxygen to vanish from my lungs. My head crumpled onto my soaked, muddy knees as I sat back, balling my legs against my naive, broken heart. The steady stream of tears was soon replaced by anguished sobs that racked my body.
Heavy footsteps sounded before Dad heaved himself down beside me in the puddle. A strong arm pulled my shivering body against his warm flannel shirt. The familiar scent of woodsy pine was like balm to my soul.
“Squeaks, what happened?”
I was suddenly a small girl again. So, so small. A heartbroken girl rejected by classmates over and over again.
“Listen to me, Squeaks. If those kids can’t see the wonderful person you are, they don’t deserve you as a friend.”
I looked up into his gray eyes that matched my own. They seemed worried beneath his ever-present Minnesota Vikings ball cap.
“I think…” Disbelief lodged in my throat. “Ryan is cheating on me.” My voice broke as I buried my embarrassment against his shoulder.
The muscle beneath my cheek went taut. Dad pulled me tighter within his embrace before he released me and leveled his hard gaze with mine. A rough thumb swiped across my streaming cheek.
“Now you listen to me, Squeaks. If that sorry excuse of a man can’t see the wonderful woman you are, he never deserved you in the first place.”
The words were kind. They may have even been right.
But all I felt was clawing desperation. Desperate to go back in time. Desperate for Ryan to love me again.
Because if a man like Ryan couldn’t, who would?