It Ends Tonight
RILEY
I’m standing by the fireplace in the Sinclair mansion with a glass of wine in my hand, in a navy dress Preston picked out because, in his words, it makes me look better beside him.
That’s the whole point of tonight.
A small thing, he’d said on Tuesday. Just family. People have been worried about you, Riley. Let them see you’re all right.
He's calling it a reunion.
He's also calling it an engagement party, because the ring went back on my finger Monday morning in front of his mother. And she’d thanked and praised me for being well again. She talked about how her son had almost lost his mind, looking for me, while I was taken by that hockey star.
That hockey star took me. It’s the story Preston has told them. The one he’s ready to sell to the media, the moment I step out of place.
My eyes travel around the room, from one familiar face to another, all people from Preston’s world. And when they land on him across the room, he strolls over, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me in for a charming kiss to further sell the plot of our reunion.
“I hope you're having a wonderful evening, my love,” he says with an easy smile, making sure to pitch his voice loud enough for Victoria to hear.
“Oh… so sweet,” Victoria gushes to her husband, who’s beside her.
Preston turns to them after I give him a curt nod and a practiced smile.
“Thank you for keeping her company, Victoria.” He smiles warmly before turning to her husband. “And thank you as well, Benjamin. Riley's been through a difficult couple of weeks, and it means a great deal to me that you all came to welcome her home and make tonight so special.”
“We’re glad she’s back and safe,” Benjamin responds.
For another few minutes, I watch them talk about me like I’m not there.
Preston presses a chaste kiss to my temple and strolls off with Benjamin, leaving me alone with Victoria. She chatters on, and I try to keep up without indulging.
I’ve done this for six years. My body remembers how without being asked.
The tilt of the head, the small laugh half a beat behind the joke, the way you hold a glass so nobody offers you anything stronger.
Preston’s aunt saunters by and tells me I look wonderful.
His business partner’s wife tells me she’s so glad we worked things out, that these things happen, that every marriage has its moment.
There isn’t a marriage. There never was, but I smile and say thank you.
Yet, all I think of is the note I left on Easton’s kitchen counter, seven days ago.
A week.
That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of his home.
I don’t know what he did when he read it. I don’t know if he’s playing. I checked the sports pages twice on Wednesday before Preston came into the room, and after that I stopped, because he holds my phone at night, and I can’t let him find out I still check on Easton.
My social media pages are gone too. Not deleted, just deactivated. Paused, he called it. Just until the noise dies down.
In seven days, I’ve watched three months of the life I built get folded up and put away in a drawer like it doesn’t matter.
“Riley.”
I turn.
My parents are there.
My mother reaches me first. She holds my face in both hands and looks at me for a long moment and doesn’t say anything. She exchanges a look with my dad.
“Hi, Mom.” I force a smile, one she doesn’t return.
“Riley… come here.” My dad covers the distance and wraps me in a warm embrace.
My eyes sting with unshed tears, but I fight to force them back.
Of course they showed up.
As far as they're concerned, Preston saved me. He brought me home. He rescued me from throwing everything we'd built together away.
It's exactly what Dad wanted from the moment I tried to leave. Now he gets to keep everything the way it was.
His friendship with Preston. His relationship with the Sinclairs. His perfect version of my life.
When he pulls away, he looks at me. His eyes drop to the huge diamond ring sitting on my finger. Then back to my face.
His expression takes on a twist I can’t read. Then he takes my hand.
“Walk with me.”
I don’t say anything, but follow him.
Someone calls out behind us.
I catch Preston approaching in my peripheral vision, but before he can reach me, my mom steps neatly into his path.
His mother joins them a moment later, and within seconds the three of them are wrapped up in what looks like an easy, pleasant conversation.
He never makes it to me.
But my heart is racing with every step I take, knowing I can’t keep it in any longer.
My dad takes me down the hall to Preston’s study, because it’s the only door on this floor nobody will open, and he closes it behind us and stands with his back against it.
“Sit down.”
“Dad…”
“Sit, Riley.”
I sit down.
He pulls the other chair around so he’s facing me, close, knees almost touching, and he takes both of my hands in his.
“Are you fine?”
A weak smile spreads across my face, and I merely nod. His eyes stare intently into mine, and I can tell he doesn’t believe it.
“Riley... just two weeks ago, you came to the house and told your mother and me you didn't want to be with Preston anymore. You made it clear you'd finally gotten your life back. You'd even met someone new.”
He smiles faintly. “You showed us your work.”
His hands tighten gently around mine. “And I've been watching, Riley. I know I didn't handle that conversation well. I wasn't ready to accept this new path you were choosing.”
He lets out a quiet breath. “But I've been paying attention. I followed your socials. I saw the photos from your latest gig, and, Riley...” His eyes soften. “I was so proud of you.”
His smile fades. “But this...”
He slowly shakes his head. “This isn't like you. You don't make impulsive decisions. Suddenly your social media is gone. Now you're back with Preston, you've accepted his proposal again, and none of us heard a word beforehand.”
He searches my face. “I need to hear it from you, honey. I need to know this is what you want.”
His voice is gentle now. “Not because you think it'll make me happy.”
He squeezes my hands once more. “But because you truly believe it'll make you happy in the long run.”
My throat closes. “Dad—”
My eyes water.
“The last time, I sat there, and I let you go. I said nothing, and I have not slept properly since.” His voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t have to. “But now, I need you to be honest with me. Trust me again, Riley.”
I hold out for about thirty seconds. That's all it takes.
The tears come fast, and with my head bowed, unable to meet his eyes, I tell him everything.
From the moment I climbed into Easton's car at the traffic light, to the camera he bought me after I finally admitted how much I loved photography. The trip to Chicago. The video.
Everything.
Everything except the biggest truth. That I’m in love with Easton, but I’d lied that it was all fake.
“He was waiting in the living room when I got home,” I say. My voice has gone flat because it’s the only way I can get through it. “He knew Easton’s flight. He had it timed. And he gave me no other option.”
My father has gone very still.
“He’d have released it during the game. He said so. And I couldn’t let him do that. Easton’s help to me has already cost him enough. His sponsors… his career would be gone.” I press my palms to my face.
“You left to protect him.”
I nod.
“You chose to save this hockey star by returning to this same man who has always limited you.”
I nod again. The tears fully pour out, hot and furious.
“Riley…”
“I couldn’t even say goodbye to him.” My voice breaks. “I left a note saying it was never real. It’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever done to another person, and I did it on purpose, because if I’d told him the truth he’d have come after Preston and lost everything anyway, a-and…”
I stop. I can’t finish it.
My father waits.
The study is very quiet.
I take out my phone with shaking hands, and I find the file, and I put it on the desk between us.
“I came to the house that day to give you this, but when I saw you’ve made up your mind about Preston, I thought… I thought it wasn’t important.”
I press play.
Preston’s voice comes out of my phone. It’s the recording of him in the locker room with Easton.
I watch my father listen to it.
When it ends, he sits back in the chair and puts one hand over his mouth, and for the first time, I see pure rage emanating from him.
“I gave you to him,” he says. “I let him do this, and he almost got away with it.”
His eyes are red. He stands up.
“Dad. Wait. Wait…” I catch his sleeve. “You can’t say anything. Please. If you mention anything relating to the video, if he finds out anyone knows, he’ll release it, and Easton—” I’m crying again. “Promise me.”
My father looks down at my hand on his sleeve. He pulls me for a hug and kisses my head.
He doesn’t wait for me to recover before he pulls away, and he’s out the door before I can hold him back.
My heart drops.
I bolt out after him, knowing I have to do something.
He’s in the middle of the room, and sets his glass down on the piano hard enough that people turn, and he stands there until sixty people have stopped talking.
“Preston.”
“D-dad…” I try to stop him, rushing to his side. He throws me a hard glare, and the words fail me.
Preston comes through the crowd smiling, wine in hand, already reaching to clasp my father’s shoulder. “Richard. Everything all right?”
“No.”
The room goes still.
“My daughter is leaving with me tonight,” my father says. “She won’t be coming back to this house. Not tomorrow, not next month. There is no engagement. There is no reconciliation. There will be no wedding.”
“Richard, I think this is a conversation for—”
“I’m not finished.”
I watch Preston’s face harden. His eyes dart to mine, and the knowing look is there. They quickly return to my father.
“For six years, I let you tell me who my daughter was. I believed you over her, in my own house, to her face. That was my failure, and I will carry it.”
He looks around the room, at Preston’s mother, at the partners, at every person here who’s ever nodded along.
“It ends tonight. This family is finished being useful to you. If you contact her, if you contact anyone she loves, if I hear your people have so much as breathed near her name, you’ll find out what my name is worth in this city too. ”
Nobody moves.
“Riley…” my father says, without turning. “Get your coat.”
My mother is already holding it. I toss the ring to the floor, and together, they lead me out.
I shake the entire way home.
I sit in the back of my father’s car with my hands between my knees and my whole body trembling like I’ve been pulled out of cold water, and my mother reaches back between the seats and holds on to my ankle the whole drive, because it’s the only part of me she can reach.
Nobody says anything.
It isn't over. I know that. The tape is still in a safe in that house, and Preston is a man who doesn't lose quietly, and all he needs is one phone call that could ruin Easton Blake by morning.
My mom walks me to my bedroom when we arrive. My childhood bedroom still has the same look from when I was a teenager.
I’m sitting on the end of the bed in the navy dress with my shoes off when my father appears in the doorway. He doesn’t come in. He leans a shoulder against the frame, hands in his pockets, and looks at the carpet.
“Riley…”
“Dad…”
“I’m so sorry it took me this long.”
I cover the distance between us and hug him.
“Thank you, Dad.”