TWO
Ryan
Willow. I said her name aloud. I liked saying it. It was breathy and beautiful. And so fitting for this willowy, wisp of a girl. There was something about her I thought as I walked to the pub where I was meeting my best bud, Duffy McDermitt. We had a standing boys’ night out every Wednesday night. It was a way of staying in touch and keeping up with what was going on with Arts & Smarts of which he was now editor in chief. He had replaced me after I quit following a major and painful blow up with the publisher—my father—one I tried not to think about since my father and I were making amends. Slowly but surely with the help of a top Manhattan shrink. Duffy was doing a great job just as I predicted. The online magazine was flourishing and advertising sales were at an all-time high, the latter being the only thing that mattered to my powerful, cutthroat father. Mr. Bottom Line.
It had been a long time since a girl had an effect on me. Almost five years. With the success of my memoir, Undying Love, and my family name, I was, like it or not, one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. A minor celebrity. I had no need—or desire—to put my profile up on one of those online dating sites like Tinder or Match.com Everyone, from my editor to my drycleaner, was trying to fix me up. Without meaning to sound boastful, I could have my pick of any girl in the city. Even top supermodels. The truth: I wasn’t ready. I still couldn’t get the love of my life, Allee Adair, out of my head. Or out of my heart.
But there was something about this girl Willow that got under my skin. That shock of wild, fiery red hair. Her delicate, pale Boticellian features. The soulfulness in her wide-set olive green eyes. And that lithe, legging-clad body that peeked through her apron. I couldn’t take my eyes off her tight heart-shaped ass or her long, toned legs as she flew up the stairs with the lightness and grace of a butterfly to retrieve my book. The fact that she really loved my book and wanted me to sign it was a turn-on too. And, man, she really knew how to make a man a sandwich. Why the hell didn’t I ask her out?
The pub was dark and crowded, especially at the bar, which was known for being a hot pick up spot. Eschewing the bar, I spotted my ginger-haired buddy at our usual booth toward the back. He already had a beer.
“Hey, dude,” said Duffy as I took a seat opposite him. An attractive blond waitress came by and I ordered what Duffy was drinking. A Guinness on tap. She eyed me flirtatiously before disappearing into the crowd.
Duffy grinned. “That babe has the hots for you.”
Ignoring his comment, I responded, “The last issue of Arts & Smarts was the bomb.” I still regularly read the magazine even though I was no longer editor or had any desire to be associated with it again.
“Thanks, bro.” Beaming, Duffy gave me an affectionate fist bump and took a gulp of his beer.
“How’s my old man treating you?”
“He leaves me alone. I think he’s gotten used to the idea that A&S is his rebellious child.”
My father, Ryan Madewell III, was the founder and CEO of Madewell Media, a Fortune 500 company that controlled broadcast outlets and publishing entities around the world. He was worth 1.8 billion dollars the last time I checked. A&S was just a small cog in his vast media empire.
“How are things with you and Sam?” I asked as the flirty waitress returned and lowered my mug of beer onto the distressed wood table. Sam, short for Samantha, was his beautiful fiancée. Like Duffy, she came from Southern California and loved to surf. He had met her at my wedding to Allee. She was Allee’s friend and colleague at The Met. It was love at first sight for Duffy, who had never managed to score in the girlfriend department. Ironically, had I chosen Sam to show me a hidden treasure at the museum, I may have never married Allee. Sometimes, I wished I had so that I wouldn’t have had to endure the tragedy of Allee dying so young. Life could be just so fucking unfair.
Duffy took another took chug of his beer. “She’s great, dude. She’s starting to show. She’s nervous she’ll be as fat as a cow at the wedding.”
Duffy had been living with Sam almost from the beginning. Before Sam, he hadn’t gotten laid in years. When she discovered she was pregnant a couple of months ago, they finally decided to tie the knot. They were getting married in a few weeks in Malibu at a hotel close to her parents’ house. Aptly, on the beach since they both loved the ocean. Duffy had asked me to propose a toast and I’d agreed.
“Cheers.” After clinking my mug against Duffy’s, I took a swig of my beer. “Sam’s going to a beautiful bride. How’s the wedding stuff going?”
“Bitchin’. Sam’s got it under control.” He stroked his scruffy beard. “But the daddy thing is already freaking me out.”
“Relax, man, you’re going to do great.” A pang of envy shot through me. A baby with Allee had not been in our cards. At least while she was alive. The frozen embryos that were being stored at a renowned Manhattan fertility clinic flashed into my mind. Having made a last minute decision not to include that part of our story in my memoir, no one knew about their existence—except my shrink and my sister Mimi, who had offered to be a surrogate. I’d declined her kind offer because following Allee’s death I was in no shape or form to be a single parent. And after the release of the book, I traveled too much doing talk shows and book signings.
“So, dude, what’s up with you?” my buddy asked, catapulting me back into the moment.
I told him how the movie version of Undying Love was moving along. While I was in California for his wedding, I had meetings set up with the Hollywood producer who was bringing my story to the big screen. The studio had already approved the screenplay and selected a director. Both Ryan Gosling and Ryan Reynolds were being considered to play me. Emma Stone had already committed to the role of Allee. As much as I was pleased with this casting decision, no one could be my Allee.
“Man, that movie is going to be a blockbuster. Every girl in America’s going to be in love with Ryan Madewell.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Nah, they’re going to be in love with Ryan Gosling or whoever plays the part.”
Duffy snorted. “So, dude, what’s going on with the rest of your life? You get laid yet?” Duffster was constantly telling me that I needed to start dating again. It had been almost five years since Allee had passed away, and I wasn’t getting younger. He was convinced my dick was going to wither away and fall off.
I took a big gulp of my beer and then I said it. “I met someone.” A sharp pause followed before I took several more gulps of the frothy beverage.
“Hey, man, don’t go AWOL on me. Talk to me.”
I reluctantly told my pal all about Willow and our encounter. In the end, it actually felt good to confide in him.
“Seriously, dude, I can’t believe you wrote in her book that you wanted to see her again and you didn’t ask her out. Or jot down your phone number or email address. What a doof!”
Maybe I blew it. Maybe I just wasn’t ready. Maybe I really didn’t want to. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. I drained my beer.
“Madewell, get your big dick back to that deli before it disappears and ask that chick out.”
“Okay, okay.”
“And buy yourself a pack of condoms.”
Duffy ordered another round of beers. I guzzled mine. The cold beverage seeped through my veins while a beautiful girl named Willow danced in my head.
My downtown loft was not far from the pub. I walked home. The buzz I got from the beer mixed nicely with the crisp autumn air. I wrapped my cashmere scarf, a gift from Allee, around my neck to shield myself from the wind.
When I got home, it was always the same. I came home to the ghost of Allee. As soon as I stepped out from the elevator that took me to my loft, a former millinery factory, I saw her curled up on the leather couch she favored, reading one of her art books. Her dark hair gathered up in a high ponytail, her espresso bean eyes meeting mine, already undressing me in my mind’s eye. I always imagined her beautiful and radiant, not the faded beauty she had become when she got sick. There were photographs of her everywhere.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hi, Madewell. Where’ve you been?”
“Just down the street at a pub. Hanging with Duff.”
“That’s good. You need to get out more, Golden Boy.”
“It’s hard.”
“I betch’ya it can’t be that hard.” So Allee-like. “Did’ya meet someone?
I cringed as if she had caught me cheating.
“You look different.”
My perceptive Allee. Always the voice of reason. Never one to hold back.
My cock stiffened. My balls ached. Fuck. When was it going to stop? I could taste her, smell her, feel her. My shrink told me I needed to move. Get a new place. A new bed. A new life. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to stay connected to her anyway I could.
I blinked my eyes, and when I opened them, like magic, she was gone. Once again I felt so alone in my vast loft. Trudging to the kitchen, I checked my phone messages before winding up the spiral stairs to our bedroom. I shucked my clothes, putting on some pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I did my normal bathroom routine and then hopped into bed. The beautiful antique four-poster bed that I shared with the love of my life. Usually, I did a little reading before I went to sleep, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, I needed a good night’s rest. Tomorrow morning I had an interview on Good Morning America, so I had to be up bright and early.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. My cock was throbbing. I needed relief. My eyes shut, I slipped my hand under the duvet and began jerking myself off. Harder. Faster. I imagined her long, limber fingers around my shaft, her warm breath heating my cheeks. The ends of her long hair dancing on my flesh. My breathing grew ragged. I was heading fast and furiously toward an orgasm. With a shudder, I exploded, spurting hot cum all over my hand. Still breathing heavily, I opened my eyes halfway. In the shadows of the night was the image of a beautiful girl. She had flaming red hair and glittering green eyes. Willow!