I QUIETLY SIT at the dining room table stabbing my oatmeal to death. I have no appetite. I just keep picturing a pair of cobalt blue eyes. The ones from the past and ones from the present.
Ryan told me he loved me once. Professed it, actually. He swore he’d protect me. Swore he’d never let go even if the stars were falling out of the sky. But he lied. Because he did let go.
I repeatedly glance—almost obsessively—at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It’s a vain attempt to distract my intrusive thoughts. It’s 9:23 a.m. I need to catch the 10:36 train if I’m going to make it into the city by noon. I know the PATH’s schedule by heart.
Currently, I’m sitting diagonally across from my father, who’s quietly reading the newspaper like he does every Sunday morning. We barely speak, and when he does address me it’s formal, like I’m a business acquaintance, not his flesh and blood.
The Honorable Merrick J. Remington. That’s how the public knows him, and that’s exactly how he wants it, as if he’s constantly sitting on the bench. A persona to uphold. And I am a direct reflection of him. His beautiful, perfect, obedient daughter. That’s who I am because that’s who he’s molded me to be. On the outside anyway. A portrait of perfection. It’s daunting. Playing a part. But it’s my life at the moment.
I glance at him in all his stateliness. His thick, salt and pepper hair combed back meticulously, his posture perfect, his defined chin pointed down. I don’t look anything like him. I’m tall and lean, with long, pale blonde hair just like my mother’s. The only trait we share is the color of our eyes—a light chestnut brown with black specs around the pupils.
Judge Remington shakes out his newspaper before folding it and throwing it down onto the table. “What are your plans today, Alana?” he asks brusquely.
I look up at him. “I’m going into the city to meet Jill.”
She’s the perfect alibi since she lives there. He has no idea we barely talk or even socialize outside of Emily’s company.
“Ummm hmmm.” He’s distracted as he tinkers with his watch. “Good. Be careful.” He speaks the words but there’s no care or interest, just obligation. “Have you decided if you want campus housing or an apartment yet?”
He’s talking about law school, Columbia.
I’ll never forget the day I told him I was applying. It was like being branded with a hot poker. His eyes lit up, and not because I was following in his collegiate footsteps, but because he keenly caught on to the quiet excitement in my voice and the enthusiasm on my face. He knew it was something I really wanted, which meant it was something he could hold over my head. I knew it, too, but I didn’t care. Because being a lawyer is all I’ve ever wanted to do. So, if I have to play good little rich girl to get what I want, I will.
But trust me when I say, I don’t plan to star in this role forever.
“I haven’t decided yet.” I look down at my dying oatmeal.
“Well, you have until Wednesday to decide. I’ve set up an appointment with a realtor. Nine a.m., sharp.” He clears his throat. “On the West Side.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I comply, like the good girl that I am.
He gets up out of his chair, dressed in white shorts and a light green Polo shirt, which communicates he’s going to play tennis at the club.
“Have a nice day,” he relays in a detached tone, then walks out of the room.
All business, all the time.
Bye, Dad, love you, too.
I step off the train at 11:38 a.m. and head up the stairs of Penn Station. The city, like always, is alive. It’s a clear, spring day as I walk down West 33rd with the sun reflecting off the high-rises. I slip on a pair of mirrored, aviator sunglasses and trek toward Broadway. It’s about a ten-minute walk to Dean & DeLuca. Which is good. I need the time to assemble my thoughts. Actually, I need the time to devise a geometric defense strategy to protect my heart, because I know today my emotions are going to engage in war. As I walk I relive every touch, every word, every laugh Ryan and I ever shared, even though I’ve tried desperately to forget. To forget all of it. To forget him. But Ryan took a part of me I can never get back. And what makes it worse, what really kills me, is that I handed it over willingly. Freely. Eagerly. I trusted him. I believed in him. I leaned on him. I broke my own cardinal rules for him.
Finding him dancing at that club last night felt like a smack across the face. A stinging, eye-opening, wake-up call from my past.
I should just blow him off. Do exactly what he did to me. Send a silent message—fuck off. But curiosity is killing the cat. I need to know what happened. Why did he leave the way he did? Where has he been? How the hell did he end up stripping? And does he really believe I’m still his girl?
He has a screw loose. I’m not his girl, and I never will be again.
I want closure. That’s it.
It’s what I keep telling myself. The only thing I want from Ryan is closure, so I can just move on.
Except seeing him last night, feeling his body, smelling his skin, recharged all the feelings I’ve so desperately tried to suppress. I’m completely torn. I’m angry and hurt, and yet, at the same time, all I seem to want is him.
I’m delusional.
He’s a stripper.
How in the hell would that ever work?
Not to mention the fact he-broke-my-heart-into-ten-thousand-tiny-pieces!
I need to get a grip. Ping-ponging back and forth isn’t going to get me anywhere but committed. I need to just be strong and stick to my guns. Ryan Pierce is my past, not my future.
With a confident huff I check my outfit out in the window of the coffee shop. Skinny blue jeans and a white, eye-hooked top. Sexy yet sophisticated. A slight tease of my midriff showing. My long blonde hair is cascading down my back, it’s a little windblown, but the extra volume gives it an oomph of sexiness. Eat your fucking heart out Ryan Pierce.
I pull my sunglasses off as I look around the room. No sign of Ryan. My heart flutters a little. Should I be surprised? Do leopards really change their spots?
I order a cup of coffee and take a seat next to the window. If nothing else, I can people watch.
I glance at the clock, 12:03.
Then back out the window.
Then back at the clock, 12:05.
This is infuriating.
I hear his voice before I see his face. “Punctual as ever.” I turn just as he glides past the table and sits in the chair opposite me, laying a single flower between us. An orange stargazer lily. My throat closes.
“For you.” He smiles, his blue eyes shining.
I pick up the hefty flower. It’s fully bloomed and smells so sweet. I think back to that night in the cabana. There was a fresh vase of these exact flowers on one of the end tables.
“You remembered.” My voice isn’t as confident as I would like it to be.
“I remember everything.”
I swallow hard.
Me, too.
This is so unbelievably awkward. My thoughts are split between the Ryan I knew five years ago and his new persona, Jack the Stripper.
“Nice to see you came fully clothed,” I quip.
“Are you disappointed?”
“No.”
Yeah, maybe just a little.
“My clothes only come off at night,” he informs me.
I frown, trying to erase the image of him seducing Emily out of my head.
“Except with you, they can come off any time with you.”
Oh, really?
“Good to know, Ryan, but I’ve already seen you naked so the mystique is gone.” My tone is flat.
He furrows his brow. “I know you’re upset with me.”
“Upset is too mild of a word,” I retort sharply. “Full-blown-pissed-off-hurl-something-at-your-head is more like it.”
“Like a dumpster?” Ryan teases.
I purse my lips. “Talk.”
“Can I get a cup of coffee first before I spill my guts? I just got up.”
I look at the time again, 12:25. Slacker.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Ryan is suddenly a mind reader. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
“I’d rather not talk about your occupation.” I scrunch my nose.
Ryan rolls his eyes. “Do you want anything?”
“Yes, another cup of coffee,” and a Quaalude, “please.”
“Still black?” he asks.
I nod, surprised.
“I told you, I remember everything.” He flirts, then saunters to the counter.
I can’t stop myself from staring at him. He’s ridiculously tall and gloriously lean, dressed in a pair of loose, dark, stonewashed jeans, and a clingy gray t-shirt which makes him dominate the word sexy.
Ryan places my coffee in front of me, and then takes a big swig of his own right before sitting back down. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he did that on purpose just to give me a show.
“You look different,” he states as he slips into the chair.
“In a bad way?” I shift in my seat, crossing paths with a sunbeam shining down through the window.
“No, in an unbelievable way.” He slides his hand across the table and laces his fingers with mine. There’s a jolt of static electricity, just like last night.
I don’t know how to interpret this behavior. We’ve been separated for so long, yet he has no issues with PDA, like we’ve never even been apart.
“Ryan.” I pull my hand away. “I came here for an explanation, so can you cut all the crap and just tell me what happened so I can move on.”
He automatically straightens in his seat, a worried expression crossing his gorgeous face. “Is that what you want, Alana, to move on?”
“What other option is there?”
“A second chance,” he slingshots back.
“Ryan,” I sigh.
“Alana, I know I hurt you,” he cuts in, his expression heartbreakingly earnest. “But please, just hear me out before you make a final decision. Before you bury any chance we might have.”
I stare across the table at odds. The flower taunting me. A painful reminder of the past. What chance? We have no chance. Honestly, we never really did. We were doomed from the beginning.
“Just tell me, Ryan.” Put me out of my damn misery already.
“Okay.” He inhales a deep, collective breath. “But before I explain I need to tell you something. I don’t know what your reaction will be once I lay all my cards out on the table, but I need you to know how I feel. I can’t let you walk away without you knowing how I feel,” he stresses.
My mouth pops open a little.
“How you feel about what, Ryan?” I question, utterly confused.
“You, Alana. Us.” He cracks his knuckles restlessly. “I never lied to you about anything. When I told you I loved you I meant it, and I still do. I want us to be together, and this time I’m in it for life.”
Life?
“Losing you was the hardest thing I ever had to endure. And now that you’re here, in front of me, I’m not going to let you go again.” Ryan agitatedly rakes his fingers through his long, wavy hair, clearly as nervous as I am. “Unless—”
“Unless, what?” I hang on his every word.
“Unless there’s someone else.” He taps his foot under the table, his whole body shaking. “Someone you love.”
I laugh so obnoxiously loud I gain the attention of everyone around us. “Someone I love? You’re fucking hilarious.”
His blue eyes widen. “Why am I hilarious?”
I shake my head at him as the anger does revolutions in my chest. “Ryan, there isn’t anyone else. Because you ruined me for anyone else,” I hiss, scathingly.
His jaw drops. “Oh, God, Alana, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I’m livid. “Ryan, I gave you my heart and my soul, not to mention my virginity, and the very next day you disappeared without a trace. And now, five years later, you have the audacity to tell me you still love me, and that you’re sorry. Do you think that’s going to magically fix it? Fix me?” I all but bite his head off. “I can’t get close to anyone, because I don’t trust anyone. Especially you.”
Ryan rubs his palms against his temples as if this conversation is agonizing. It certainly is for me. “So, no. There’s no one else,” I vibrate irately, wanting to throw my coffee in his face.
Ryan slides his forearms across the table again, a pained expression marring his face. “Alana, I don’t know what else to say. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that what happened was out of my control.” He tries to grab my hand again, but I yank it away.
Ryan looks down at his splayed fingers on the table. “Alana, please,” he begs.
“Please what?” I spit.
“I love you.” The words roll right out of his mouth, and I swear to God, it takes all the self-control I have not to slap him.
“How can you say that after all this time?”
“Because it’s the truth. I never stopped loving you, I don’t think I ever will.”
“Then where the fuck have you been for the last five years? And why all of a sudden now, after I find you stripping at a nightclub, are you so forthcoming?” I cross my arms hotly.
“Look.” He balls his hands into fists. “I wanted to find you, to call you, but I just couldn’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a fraction of a second. “But I swore if fate ever gave us a second chance, I wasn’t going to blow it. So, I’m here, telling you I’m yours, if you still want me. I know we have a ton of shit to work out, but I’ll do it, I’ll do anything. Just please, consider it.”
I’m totally floored. Not in a million years did I expect this. I’ve pictured this moment over and over and never once did I fathom Ryan professing his undying love to me. Never.
I look out the window at the busy New York City street, my mind reeling. He’s making this really fucking difficult. “Ryan, even if I could get over the past, there’s still the present. I’m not sure I can deal with what you do.” I allude to his newfound profession.
“It’s just a job,” he responds quickly.
I glance back at him, his cobalt eyes shining with provisional hope. Before I can say another thing, a strange voice mutters something over our table. “You’re that dancer, right? Jack the Stripper?”
Ryan and I both look up. Standing there is a tall, leggy, brunette bombshell who screams easy. She has all the goods—tight shirt, tight pants, high heels, and way too much makeup for daytime. I hate her instantly.
“Ah, yeah,” Ryan answers uncomfortably.
“I saw you a few weeks ago and you were amazing.” She smacks her lips, flagrant desire oozing from every pore. Ick.
“Thanks.” Ryan smiles, and it’s a sort of a half-flattered, half-mortified expression.
Miss God Almighty Makeup pulls a card and a pen out of her designer imposter purse. “Is this your girlfriend?” she asks.
“No,” I answer immediately.
“Yes.” Ryan pins me with a hard look.
My heart throbs.
“Well . . .” The brunette clicks the pen all sultry-like. “If she isn’t, I wouldn’t mind being.” She writes something down before looking back up at him and whispers, “At least for one night.” Then she slides the business card across the table to Ryan, making sure to flash him some skin.
Skank.
He doesn’t touch the card as she straightens and ambles away.
I glare. My whole body is on fire. Pissed off, raging fire. A moment later, I uncontrollably grab the card and rip it in two. Then I slam it down on the table. I had absolutely no right to do that. But the mere thought of Ryan with her sent me straight over the edge.
“Just a job, huh?” I huff.
This is bad.
This is so fucking bad. So much for moving on. It’s crystal clear I haven’t moved one centimeter where Ryan is concerned.
A satisfied smile spreads across Ryan’s mouth. That freakin’ hot mouth I secretly want all over me. Covering every inch of my body, the way it once had. I’m getting hot and flustered for a number of reasons. And none of them good.
“Don’t get too excited,” I set him straight. “I did that for your own good. She looked like a walking STD.”
“Nice to know you care.”
“Fractionally.”
“So, what exactly does this mean?” He flicks a piece of the torn card.
“Not a damn thing.” I look away, arms still crossed. It’s my defense. I don’t want him to see me waver. Even though I am. Little by little, his presence is affecting me, whether I want it to or not. It’s always been this way with him, he knows how to get under my skin without even trying.
“Uh-huh.” Ryan’s not buying it.
“You still have some more explaining to do,” I divert the direction of the conversation. I want the heat off me.
Ryan frowns, communicating that whatever else he still has to tell me is bad. I can feel it.
“Can we get out of here?” he asks.
“And go where?”
“Anywhere. Bryant Park, maybe, someplace where there isn’t a piece of metal between us.” He kicks the table.
“Fine.” I relent. Maybe some air will do us both good. It’s a little stifling in here.
Bryant Park is about a fifteen-minute walk down 6th street. That’s a relatively short walk when you’re in the city. And when it’s as nice as it is today, it feels like a two-minute walk with all the street vendors vying for your attention. Ryan holds my hand the whole way, even as we weave in and out of groups of pedestrians and across the busy streets. I know I shouldn’t love it, but I do.
Bryant Park is a green oasis nestled between towering skyscrapers. The place is absolutely swarming with people. Luckily, though, we find two free chairs, the green fold-out kind the park is known for.
We’re situated right next to some greenery across from the fountain. You could call the spot romantic. Yet romance is the last thing on my mind. Answers are the first.
Ryan takes the liberty of pulling his chair right next to mine, our bodies as close as they can possibly be, short of him sitting on top of me. He doesn’t utter a word, just leans forward with his elbows on his knees looking over at me, his blue eyes burning in the sun. He really is something.
“I’m going to law school in the fall,” I announce just to break the heavy silence. If I thought the coffee shop was stifling, I wasn’t prepared for Ryan and his overbearing proximity.
He nods knowingly. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.”
“That will be determined at the end of the day.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on whether I fall for your charms or not.” I’m all of a sudden flirtatious. When did that happen? It must be the Ryan effect.
“Which way is the pendulum swinging?” he probes.
“Not,” I specify.
“See, smart.” He doesn’t believe that. There’s a little bit of apprehension in his tone. “What law school are you going to?”
“Columbia.”
He perks up. “The city?”
“Yes . . . you look happy about that.” I read his expression clearly.
“I am. You’ll be close. Like, really close.” He beams.
“And that’s something you want? For me to be close?” I fish.
Ryan leans in close to face provocatively. I hold by breath. “Yes.”
“You sound so sure,” I expel.
“I am.” He’s overly confident, like he’s inflated with the stuff.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I drop a bombshell of a question.
“You don’t. Just like I don’t know if I can trust you. But I’m going on faith.”
“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been the last five years?”
“Yes. I don’t want to keep anything from you. It’s the first brick of me building back your trust.”
“So, spill it.”
“Will you sit on my lap?” he asks.
“Excuse me?” My eyebrows shoot up.
“Will you sit on my lap? I want to touch you.” He speaks slowly, deliberately, so I understand.
“You can hold my hand.” I offer an alternative. No way am I climbing onto his lap. That’s a recipe for disaster just waiting to happen.
“I want to hold your body.” His eyes flash and my insides stir. Oh, no.
He hesitates for a beat before pulling me onto him, my legs dangling over one side of the chair. Decision made, apparently.
Ryan slides his arms around my waist, locking me against him before drawing his eyes up to mine. It’s a vulnerable stare. My heart pinches.
“Okay, so you got me where you want me, now talk.”
“This is nowhere close to where I want you, but I’ll take it for now.” His velvety voice calls to me like a hypnotic melody. I remind myself to stay strong. I’m not a pushover, and I’m not going to let Ryan think some sweet words and a few public displays of affection are going to win me over. If he wants me, he’ll have to work for me. And work damn hard.
Ryan inhales a deep breath before beginning. “Prison, Alana. I spent three and a half years in prison.”
“What?” I try to shift on his lap, but he holds me tight. “Why were you in prison?”
“Because of my brother.”
“Sean? Why were you in prison because of Sean?” It doesn’t make any sense.
“Because he’s a drug addict piece of shit.”
“Ryan.”
“It’s the truth.” He blows out some hot air, and the warmth skims across my collarbone, causing me to shiver. My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. Ryan grips me tighter, forcing our contact to become more intimate. “He’s always getting in trouble. And sometimes he drags me down with him.”
“So, what, you got popped with drugs or something?” I ask, dying a slow death his arms.
“Not exactly.” His leg starts to shake. “You know I’m not from the best family. Mother’s an alcoholic, father skipped out when I was three. Drug addict sibling,” he recounts.
“That never mattered to me.” I painfully remind him. Ryan’s background never once impacted my feelings toward him. If anything, it made me love him more. He was a fighter, never letting his shitty situation bring him down. He wanted a better future, and he wanted one with me.
“I know. That’s why it’s so important you understand what I’m about to tell you.” He snatches my hands almost as if they’re his lifeline. “You know I would never lie to you.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“I mean it. I also told you I love my family, even though they’re a fucked-up bunch.”
“Yeah, well, no one’s family is perfect.”
Except maybe Emily’s.
Without even thinking I wrap one arm around Ryan’s shoulders. He looks up at me with those indomitable blue eyes, the same flicker of hope resurfacing from before. I don’t want to lead him on. But God, he feels so right. We feel so damn right. “So, your family’s a fucked-up bunch . . . ?”
“Well, that morning, you know after the cabana?” How could I ever forget? “I went to grab some coffee and breakfast for us. From that little café on the promenade you liked. It was early, and I was so amped up I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way back when I was pulled over. They said I was speeding. Maybe I was,” he rambles nervously. “I was anxious to get back to you. The cop ran my license, and before I knew it he was slapping handcuffs on me for an outstanding warrant.”
“A warrant for what?”
“Failure to appear in court.”
“For what?” I shake my head.
“A drug charge.”
“But you don’t do drugs, or at least you didn’t?”
“Nope, I didn’t and I don’t. But like I said, my brother does. And he’s been known to use my name on occasion.”
“He impersonated you?” I gasp.
“Yeah, scumbag. He’d only used it for little things before, misdemeanor bullshit, but that time he got busted for possession and used my information when he was arrested. He knows my social, my driver’s license number, not to mention he looks just like me. Remember, he’s my identical twin.”
“So, why didn’t you tell them it was Sean who used your information?”
“I couldn’t.” Ryan clenches his jaw.
“Why?” I demand, outraged. “He stole your identity!”
“Alana.” Ryan tenses, turning his head away from me. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.” I trap his face and force him to look at me.
Ryan feels so small now, not at all like the sexual powerhouse from last night or even the sexy, confident man who walked into Dean & DeLuca this morning.
“Sean going to prison would have killed my mother. She begged me to help him.”
“Help him how, Ryan?”
“He would have died in jail, Alana,” Ryan expels hastily.
The gears in my mind start grinding. “You did the time for your brother?”
Ryan rests his head against my chest, and nods. “Sean’s been in and out of trouble his whole life. He’s emotionally unbalanced. He has anger management issues and is bi-polar. That environment would have killed him one way or another.”
“So, you sacrificed yourself?”
“What other choice did I have?” He shrugs.
“You could have made Sean own up.” I offer one of many solutions.
Ryan huffs, dropping his head back. “I was backed into a corner. I didn’t want my mom or Sean to suffer. I can’t change my decision. I can only regret it.”
“Do you regret it?” I search his face.
“Every goddamn day.” He looks me in the eyes a tortured man. His expression breaks my heart right in fucking two. Those years behind bars must have been agony.
“You could have told me, Ryan. Sent me a letter, something.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want you to find me. I couldn’t bear for you to see me like that. I’d rather have you think I was an asshole than some convicted felon.”
“But you weren’t,” I point out.
“I looked like one.”
“Ryan, do you know what the last five years have been like for me? Wondering what happened to you?” My voice elevates, cracking with emotion.
“I’m sorry I did that to you, Alana. It’s all I can say.”
“I’m sorry, too.” I look away sadly, wondering if I will ever get over this gnawing pain. Ryan puts his finger under my chin to bring my face back to his, when something horrifying dawns on me. “Where was Sean’s warrant issued?”
“Asbury Park.”
Fuck.
Asbury, which it’s also known as, has two sections. The eastern beach area with restaurants, shops, and a concert hall that is frequented by both tourists and locals alike. And the western side, away from the ocean, which is riddled with low-income housing, dilapidated buildings, gangs, and drugs.
Asbury is also in my father’s court district.
“Who . . . who convicted you?” I swallow the lump in my throat. There are several superior court judges who try criminal cases.
Ryan clams up immediately.
“Who?” I press.
“Judge Remington.”
I blanch. Of course, my father.
This story just gets fucking better and better.
My head starts to pound so loudly, it drowns out all the sounds in the park. “Is that part of the reason why you stayed away?” I rub my temples.
Ryan nods.
Holy hell, not even the creators of Law & Order could make this shit up.
I’m confounded as I slowly sort out this overload of information. Ryan doing time for his brother, my father convicting him, me spending the last five years wondering what I did wrong, only to find out it wasn’t my fault at all. It was fate playing a cruel fucking joke.
The world suddenly becomes a blur of delusion and reality.
There’s an unexpected shift inside me. The ground shakes as the possibility of giving Ryan a second chance becomes suddenly real. Alarmingly real.
I don’t know how to find the words. Expressing what I feel is challenging for me on so many levels, but I want him.
I’ve always wanted him.
I reach down and grab Ryan’s face, tilting it up to mine. He freezes under my stare. A blonde waterfall of my hair falls around us as I inch in slowly. Ryan petrifies under my fingertips. Without closing my eyes, I press my lips gently against his. He doesn’t move, not a muscle, as our mouths connect.
He just lets me in. In his heart, in his head, and in his soul as he succumbs to my embrace.
And I do the same. My feelings spiral out of control as he suddenly traps my head and kisses me harder, his tongue reclaiming what was once his. It’s the exact same kiss from the cabana . . . slow and torrid and full of love.
“Can you stay?” Ryan asks out of breath and full of need.
“Huh?” I answer starry-eyed. That was one sidewalk-singeing kiss.
“Can you stay, in the city, with me tonight?” His sentence is choppy.
“Um . . .” I blink out of my haze. “No.”
“No?”
I scurry off his lap. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?” he demands.
“Because.” I look down at my watch. It’s too soon. I don’t trust him, and after that little display I sure as hell don’t trust myself. “I have to go.”
I have to flee!
I turn and start walking away, fast. If I leave now I can catch the 5:07 home. Where it’s safe. Where I can find my fucking bearings. My fucking sanity.
“Alana,” Ryan grabs my wrist and spins me around, “don’t walk away from me.”
His stern tone irritates me. “You have no right to make any demands of me.” I yank my arm away, defeat on his face.
“Why did you kiss me if you were just going to run?”
“I didn’t plan on kissing you.”
I didn’t plan any of this. I came to get an explanation, to put the past between us to rest and move on. I never expected to find myself forgiving him, which is frankly scaring the shit out of me.
“I’m sorry for everything. Please, don’t walk away like this. Give me a second chance. I was just trying to protect you.” Ryan stands in my way.
“From what? Protect me from what?” I’m at my wit’s end.
“From me.”
“What?” I burst, exasperated.
“From the whole fucked-up situation.” He shoves his hands through his wavy brown hair and yanks it, hard. It looks like it hurts. “I didn’t want you to be involved, and I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”
“Maybe not, but it mattered to me.” He hits his chest. “It mattered to fucking me.”
“You almost destroyed me.” My anguish bubbles over.
“I almost destroyed myself!” he yells, gaining the full attention of everyone around us.
“Calm down,” I hiss. The last thing we need is someone calling the cops about a domestic dispute. Not that that’s what this is. But Ryan doesn’t seem to have much luck in the law enforcement arena.
“I’m trying.” Ryan sucks in deep breaths of air. “I won’t let you walk away from me.”
My mouth drops open. “You won’t let me?”
“I want to fix it. Fix us,” he stresses.
Us? Good grief. What am I going to do with this man?
“There is no us, Ryan. There hasn’t been an us for a very long time.” The words fillet me right open.
“If you haven’t noticed,” Ryan grits his teeth, “I’m trying to remedy that.”
“And how exactly do you think you’re going to do that? So much time has passed.”
He lifts his hand to my face, but I can’t look directly at him. “By begging and pleading, and servicing you with mind-blowing sex.”
My eyes dart straight to his.
He’s serious. Fucking dead serious.
I suppress an unwanted smile. Idiot hasn’t changed one bit.
Ryan cups my face with both hands now, commanding me to look at him. “Alana, I’m going to take back what’s mine. No matter how long it takes. A day, a month, or a year, I won’t let you walk away from me.” He reiterates his words with an air of authority that pisses me off, turns me on, and gives me hope all at the same time.
I’m so fucked.
Ryan leans in to kiss me again, but I shut him down. “No. I need some time to think.” I pull my face out of his hands. “To sort things out.” I’m a fucking mess right now, my emotions are all over the damn place.
Ryan pins me with an icy blue glare, a small frown playing on his gorgeous, sexy mouth. A mouth I now know I can have whenever I want.
Dangerous.
And I do want it. Even though it’s a hazard to not only my body, but my heart, and mind.
I look at my watch. I really need to move it if I’m going to make my train. Not that I really want to leave Ryan. Ever again. But I need to hash out everything my brain is thinking and everything my body is feeling.
“Will you walk me to Penn Station?” I ask.
He nods, reluctantly.
I start walking, but he grabs me mid-step and pulls me into his chest, clutching both of my wrists against him. My blood burns, traveling through my veins like lava. I can see exactly what he wants. His eyes give everything away. But I can’t stay.
“I need you,” he pleads, insistently.
I almost disintegrate right on the spot.
“I need to think.” Overthink. Dissect. That’s what I do. I retreat into my own head until I get lost. Tonight, I’ll get lost in thoughts of Ryan. Righteous thoughts of what could possibly be. I’ll tip the scales until the thin chains in my mind can’t support the weight of day anymore.
“Okay.” The word is shaky leaving his lips. He is really scared of losing me again.
A few moments of a silence pass, an intense standoff, before Ryan finally releases my wrists. We head out of Bryant Park down Broadway toward the train, holding hands the whole way. As we walk, I can’t help but think about how surreal this day has been. One chance encounter has rearranged my entire world, and I don’t think anything is ever going to be the same again.
I’m terrified, anxious, and apprehensive. Even with everything Ryan said, all the promises, and apologies, and declarations, I still fear he’ll pull another disappearing act.
I believe everything he told me, but can I really place my full trust in him again? I’m not sure.
Ryan and I make our way to Madison Square Garden with people coming and going in every direction. There’s an outside entrance to New Jersey Transit, which is where I need to go if I want to catch the train. I stand at the top of the steps, Ryan’s hands firmly around my waist.
“When will I see you again?” he presses.
“Wednesday,” I tell him. “I’ll be in the city looking at apartments in the morning, then I’ll have the rest of the day free.” I pull a strand of blonde hair away from my face. Standing near the stairwell is like being in a wind tunnel.
“Wednesday,” he sets the day in stone.
“Wednesday.” I gather some courage and plant a soft peck on his cheek before I turn to leave. Ryan has other plans though. I barely take a step away as he grabs my arm and slams me into his chest. He kisses me, hard. Firm, possessively, resolutely. Right there in the middle of pedestrian traffic, and it’s the kind of kiss that slows time, increases heart rates, and brings a city block to its knees.
Ryan exhales, breathing my name in rapturous torture, his eyes closed, his forehead planted against mine. Now I really need to leave, because my willpower is completely dissolving. One more second in his arms and I am spending the night in the city. Maybe the week. Possibly the month. Fuck it, my whole life.
I glance at my watch. Time’s always hounding me. The train will be here in two minutes. “I have to go,” I whisper softly, wiping some of my lip gloss away from his mouth.
“Wednesday,” he stipulates.
“Wednesday,” I agree, finally turning to leave, mustering all the strength I have to walk away from the man who not once, but twice, shocked my world alive.
“Alana!” Ryan calls and I turn on the stairs. “I’m not disappearing, not this time.”
I look at him conspicuously.
“Time will tell, Ryan. Time will tell.”
“It will take an act of God to keep me away,” he professes in front of a thousand witnesses.
I smirk, hopeful, as I disappear out of sight.
I hop onto the train and walk the three stairs down to the lower level. I hand the conductor my ticket to punch then settle back in one of the light blue pleather seats. The tracks making a clicking sound as the train pulls away. I stare out the window daydreaming about Ryan. His hands, his face, his eyes, his lips. His voice . . . ‘I need you.’ Oh, I’m in such deep shit. He’s back in my life for one day, and I’m already hooked. I pull out my phone and text Emily. I need to see her.
Me: Meet for dinner??? *praying hands emoji*
Not a minute later she replies with a time and place. I know she’s salivating for details. And I’m salivating to give them to her.
My phone dings again and five simple words taunt me on the screen:
Ryan: Don’t walk away from me . . .
And therein lies my problem. Do I run screaming from him, or sprint right back into his arms?
I have no idea. My head says run, but my heart says sprint. It says forgive. It says second chances do exist.
My entire life I’ve listened to my head. Except once, five years ago, when I listened to my heart. And it was the only time I was ever truly happy.
The train pulls into my stop at 6:23 p.m. Dinner time, perfect. Surprisingly, I’m starving, despite my stomach being in knots. I hop into my little white Audi and head over to the Italian restaurant Emily suggested. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall, but it has the best Ruffino and penne alla vodka this side of Little Italy. I pull into the parking lot and quickly turn off the engine. When I get inside I find Emily sitting at a table in the back, the lights are dim and there are candles in Chianti bottles dripping with wax, providing the room with a romantic glow. And she’s not alone. Shit.
“Uncle John,” I plaster on a smile as I walk up to the table, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
He stands and gives me a bear hug. I shoot icicles at Emily behind his back. She shrugs apologetically.
My uncle is the warmest, most affectionate man I know. I consider him more of a father than my own. “I missed my girl.” He looks down at Emily fondly. “She said she was meeting you, so I thought I would crash the party and have a drink. See how everything went last night.” He winks at her knowingly.
I nearly tear at the seams. He wants details about last night? Where’s the wine?
“Dad, please. Like I would give you details.”
“Probably for the best.” He grins. My Uncle John has all the same physical traits as my father. He’s a tall, stocky man with warm brown eyes and jet black hair. Except his is thinning and not gray yet.
Their biggest difference is he is always smiling. I’m not even sure if my father has teeth.
“Are you eating with us?” I sit tentatively.
“No, Emily made it very clear this dinner is strictly girl business. So she promised me breakfast tomorrow morning. You can join us if you’d like,” he offers.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense, you’re both my girls. And I miss spending time with you, too.”
Emily nods, agreeing vigilantly. I guess I don’t have much of a choice.
“Sounds great.” I give in. I’m a dead duck in the water when these two gang up on me.
“It’s all settled, then.” My Uncle John is pleased. He always gets what he wants. Maybe that’s why he smiles so much? “I’ll see you two at the beach club at ten.” He kisses our foreheads and then heads for the door, both of us watching him like hawks. As soon as he is out of sight Emily immediately turns to me. “So spill. What happened? Did you hook up?” She nearly jumps out of her chair.
“Down, girl. How easy do you think I am? Before we get to the down and dirty, I need some vino.” I motion to the waitress. If I don’t get some alcohol coursing through my system soon, this conversation may get ugly.
“Alana, you’re absolutely glowing. And this is Ryan.” She exaggerates his name. “Ry-an.
I touch my face. Glowing? “So, what are you getting at? Ry-an?” I mock.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sings annoyingly. “You only spent the last five years pining over him.”
“I wasn’t pining,” I object, scrunching my nose. “You make me sound like some lovesick puppy.”
“Weren’t you?”
“No.” I fiddle with a bunched-up piece of the red plaid tablecloth as the waitress pours my wine. “I was more confused than anything else. I thought it was my fault he left. That I did something,” I admit. You give a man your heart, and soul, and virginity, and then have him up and disappear on you the very next day, it kinda messes with your head. Your whole life, really.
“So, what happened? Where the hell did he go?” Emily is chomping at the bit.
Ahhhh, the million dollar question. The one that’s been burning a hole in my brain for five years.
I start at the beginning and share every single detail about the morning. The coffee shop, the skank, Ryan’s brother, the drug charge, the stolen identity, and my father convicting him. She’s quiet throughout the whole story, listening intently, her eyes wide and glued to me.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” Is about all she can muster. “That’s like the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Right?” I swallow down the last bit of my wine.
“But you believe him?”
“I do. He may be older, and a completely different person, but inside, he’s still Ryan.” I reflectively run my thumb and index finger down the stem of the glass.
I could feel it. See it. The way he touched me, looked at me, it was exactly the same, and it’s a lot to take in.
“So, you going to give him a second chance? See if it sticks this time?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug, at a loss. “He wants to try, he made that perfectly clear. But honestly, I just don’t know. I don’t know anything. There’s a whole world of shit we need to work out.” It’s daunting.
“So, when are you going to see him again?” Emily continues with her interrogation as the waitress refills my glass with wine, the liquid I desperately need.
“Wednesday. I have to go look at apartments. My father so fittingly set up an appointment with a realtor in the city for me.”
“How convenient.” Emily leers conspiratorially.
“Isn’t it?” I agree in the same manner.
“You know he’s going to shit a canary if he finds out about the two of you. Ryan’s a stripper, for Christ’s sake,” she hisses.
“Yeah, that’s definitely one of the issues we have to address.” I chug my wine. A fucking stripper. “I have no idea what’s going to happen with Ryan, but as long as I keep my grades up and don’t do anything to mar his pretty image, my father will leave me alone. I’ll be lucky if I see him at Christmas.”
“Sounds like you have it all planned out.”
“Not in the least.”
Emily laughs. “Well, you know I’m here if you need anything.”
“I do.” I smile sweetly. Without Emily, I don’t know where I’d be.
“And I better goddamn see you at Christmas.” She snatches up her wine glass and threateningly shoves it in my face.
Yes, ma’am.