by Lisa Shelby
"What about your love life? It has to be better than mine."
"If by better, you mean non-existent, then yes...mine is better than yours."
I catch her looking out the window at Bellinger again, and I can't help it, my cupid wings start to poke out just a bit. I may be mad at his existence, but he has been pretty nice, and she's right; he isn't hard on the eyes. Tall, muscular, I think there is dark blond hair poking out from his beanie and a “knock-you-on-your-butt” smile.
"Maybe we should hit happy hour sometime soon, and I can formally introduce you to Bellinger. Maybe we can fix that whole non-existent love life thing for you."
Her eyes light up. "How does tonight sound?"
I throw my head back, belly laughing, and it feels so good. "Well, you know my schedule is free and clear. Name the time and place."
We make our plans and chat some more. I cannot believe I have let her in already. I just met her yesterday, and usually this would make me leery. But I went in to her coffee shop. It's not like she approached me and wanted something from me. She came to my rescue yesterday, and I think she may just be a really cool person.
Here's hoping my gut is a little bit better this time around.
4
Sipping my coffee on my tiny little balcony, I exhale and take in the feeling of relaxation. I relish the fact that this is the first morning I've woke without a knot of anxiety or acute sadness overwhelming me.
Reflecting on the night feels good.
I feel good.
A feeling that I haven't felt since him.
Last night was great. I needed some girl time where I could just be silly and have a few drinks. We met early in the night for happy hour, laughed, and told stories like we had known each other forever while getting to know each other and becoming fast friends. Callie and I couldn't be more different, and yet we couldn't be more similar. She has light pink hair, a crazy outgoing attitude, and a zest for life I admire and would love to exude. She's sort of like my own personal unicorn. She seems to be just what the doctor ordered not only for me, but for Bellinger as well.
I thought for sure he would be standoffish, but after forcing him to talk to me the rest of the morning, he did start to relax and even Hanson laughed from a distance every time I waved at him. By the time the afternoon came around, and I formally introduced him to Callie, he was worn down from my constant chatter and actually shook her hand and said more than two words.
He appeared to be smitten from the first handshake. It was really sweet to watch. I'm sure he could get into a lot of trouble, but if Baxter were to fire him, I would certainly do my best to intervene.
My phone buzzes on the table next to me, and apparently, there is more to my bodyguard than I thought.
Callie: Morning, sunshine.
Olivia: Morning. Busy morning at the shop?
Callie: Guess who has a date on Friday night!
Olivia: No way! You texted Bellinger?
Callie: Ryan. His first name is Ryan, and we did more than text. We talked for an hour last night. There's more to your bodyguard than just a hot body!
Olivia: Bellinger talked for an hour? Who would have thought it was possible?
Callie: Well, I did a lot of the talking, but yes, he was quite the Chatty Cathy.
Olivia: Well, I can't wait to hear all about it.
Callie: You know it. It's only Wednesday, though. You better come into the shop before then. Talk to you later.
There's a smile on my face when I set the phone down. In the last forty-eight hours, I have gained four bodyguards and a new friend. Life sure is funny.
My phone vibrates again, but this time it's actually ringing. The smile on my face hardens to a scowl when I see who it is. It's a shame that a woman I admired so much now brings me down whenever I see her name on my phone. Today, I'm not going to answer. It's been just over a month of Evelyn checking in on me every week and as sweet as it is, all it does is confuse me. I am too happy at the moment, and I don't want to hear her voice because all it does is remind me of him.
I don't pick up but see the screen light up moments later indicating a voicemail. I tell myself not to check. Just sit here on your adorable patio, finish your cup of coffee, and stay in your moment of Zen, but of course, I can't. I pick up the phone, and the moment I hear her voice, my moment of Zen blows away on the breeze and all of my anxiety is back.
"Hello, Olivia dear, it's Evelyn. How are you? I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had heard from Ronan? We haven't seen him for a couple of days, and we cannot reach him by phone or any other means. Baxter has no idea where he is, and we were hoping maybe you had heard from him. He's missed several important meetings, and this really isn't like him. If you've heard from him or know if he's okay, could you please give me a call and let me know? Thank you, my dear."
I know I shouldn't care after he broke my heart, but the thought that something may have happened to him has my heart rate racing, and I can feel the panic approaching. Ronan dropping off the face of the earth isn’t like him, and I know he would never worry Evelyn or Baxter, for that matter, if he could avoid it. No, this isn’t normal for him.
The coffee cup in my hand begins to shake and feels like a heavy weight I’m barely able to hold on to. I’m feeling helpless and frazzled, and I have no idea what to do with myself.
Why did she call me?
Does that mean something?
Wait, why am I feeling this way? He left me! I shouldn’t be wasting my emotions worrying about him.
He did hire me protection, though.
No! I will not let myself worry about him even though the thought of something being wrong with him makes me sick to my stomach.
There isn't anything I can do anyway. He won't answer my calls, and he's blocked me on all social media. I'm really not sure why she called me. How would I know where he is? I haven't talked to him in over a month.
It's not your problem, Olivia. He dumped you, and the fact he is missing isn't something you need to concern yourself with.
I force myself to get into the shower and try to the best of my ability to cleanse myself of the concern and panic overtaking my body. My happy, peaceful morning has disappeared, but I won't let it stay gone for long. I refuse to let this man and his decisions dictate the way I feel.
While rinsing the soap out of my hair, an idea hit me. This idea is the reason why I am now throwing my overnight bag over my shoulder and sneaking out of my apartment like a teenager sneaking out of her house under her parents’ nose. I may not be under my parents’ nose, but I do have round-the-clock bodyguards watching me. Luckily, they don't sit outside my apartment door, and my plan should come to fruition. They used to wait outside, but now that the cat is out of the bag, they wait for me in the lobby of my building.
Still, today I just want to be on my own. I don't want to be under any watchful eyes. I just need a day to myself. This is why instead of taking the elevator, I take the stairs all the way down to the parking garage and make sure to turn off the “Find My Phone” feature on my phone. I use the exit that takes me out onto the street at the back of the building and walk as quickly as I can to the car rental place where I made my reservation.
Twenty minutes later, paperwork is filled out, and I'm in my cute little Ford Fusion. It's white and nondescript and shouldn't stand out at all. It's perfect. A drive down the coastline alone will do me some good. I buckle in, scroll through the radio until I find my station, and off I go.
Two hours into my drive, I realize there has been no sign of anyone following me, and I finally start to relax. It's a good thing I am back to being relaxed when I hit the L.A. traffic a few hours later because man, it's enough to make you want to pull your hair out. Singing along to the radio helps, as well as telling myself that I'm going on this long, six-hour drive just for a little getaway.
Lost in the efforts I’m putting into my solo version of Carpool Karaoke, I startle and curse when my phone rings. When I glance at t
he screen, I see Bellinger's name appear.
Aha, you've finally figured out I'm not at home. Sorry sucker!
I can't help but giggle to myself. Bellinger is a nice guy, and I know he's only doing his job, but it still brings me a small bit of joy to know I got one over on them. I laugh even harder when my phone rings a few minutes later, but this time I answer.
"Olivia, are you trying to give the boys heart failure?" Callie asks before I have a chance to say hello.
She's already calling them “the boys.” She really doesn't waste time getting to know people, does she?
"Well, hello to you too."
"Sorry, that was really rude. Whatcha doin', besides making Ryan piss himself with fear that he's lost his assignment?"
"Aw, I didn't mean to scare anyone; I just wanted a day to myself."
"Well, you did, and I get the feeling something else is going on with his boss or something. I think you picked a really bad time to take off."
Shit. That means Ronan really is missing, and everyone is on high alert. My heart picks up speed, and I hope I've made the right decision.
"Well, tell him I am alive and well, and I'm sorry."
"You gonna tell me where you are?"
"Nope."
"You okay?"
I have no idea.
"I'm really good, Callie. Last night was fun and just what I needed. Thank you."
"Why don't I believe you? I feel like you're hiding something. You didn't even ask me what was going on with his boss. You know the one you're in love with. If I didn't know better I would think you already know."
"I have no idea what could be going on with his boss. You know, the one I am not still in love with."
"Whatever you say."
"I swear, I have no idea what is going on with Ronan, and I am really sorry if I scared Bellinger. I promise to text you later tonight to let you know I am alive and well, and you can let him know. Deal?"
"I guess, but I wish you would tell me what you are up to."
"Just a day to myself. We'll see where the day takes me, but I just needed some alone time."
"Okay, I'll leave you be so you can enjoy your alone time. Call me if you need anything, and thanks for giving me another reason to talk to Ryan. I mean, as long as you're okay and everything."
"Ha! I'm fine and you're welcome. I'm glad I could be of service."
"I knew you were going to be a great friend the moment I met you." She giggles. "Talk to you later, lady."
"Bye."
The call disconnects, and although it leaves me with a smile on my face, it has also deepened my concern for Ronan. I really do hope he's okay.
I follow the orders given to me by the bossy lady talking to me through my navigation system, and sooner rather than later, I'm turning onto the familiar street that holds many happy memories for me. Memories that now make me melancholy.
I park the car about a block away and find myself rushing to get to where today’s long drive has brought me. My heart is beating out of my chest and thundering a cadence in my ears, and it's not from taking the stairs up to the door two at a time.
I can no longer keep lying to myself.
I'm not here because I need a day to myself.
It's because of him.
I'm worried about him, and I know I'm the only person who knows about this place.
So, here I am.
Laguna Beach.
Eclipse.
5
I lift my hand to knock on the door but drop it quickly.
What exactly am I doing here?
I don’t even know what I’ll say if he opens the door, or even what I want him to say for that matter.
Am I just here to make sure he's alive? Maybe I’m here because I care more about him than I would like to admit to myself.
I've just had six hours alone in my car to figure all of this out, and I couldn't come up with a single answer. I'm stalling, and it's time to do what I came to do and then go back home.
I knock lightly and wait.
You are such a wimp, Olivia. Knock on the door like an adult.
I knock harder and still no reply. I knock a third time, and as much as I should take the hint that he knows it's me and doesn't want to open up, or realize he may not be here, my gut tells me differently. Maybe I should go down to the gallery and check with Ava? I turn to head down the stairs when I see his motorcycle parked in its usual spot. He's here. My pulse races yet again, and the fact that he's not answering the door has me worried.
Gliding my hand along the ledge above the door, I stop my fingers when they touch the cold metal of the hidden key.
Do I dare?
We aren't together.
What if he regrets he ever told me about this place or where he kept his secret key?
What if he's hiding out with another woman? Or London?
So many what ifs go through my mind, but my gut...my gut tells me I need to go inside.
With trembling fingers, I insert the key and turn the doorknob slowly. Drawing out the moment I come face to face with him and who or what has him holed up here in his secret lair, I push the door open quietly and peek my head inside. I’m met with silence. I let myself all the way in and close the door behind me.
Feeling nauseous at the prospect of what I may find, I look through the open bedroom door. Much to my relief, all I see is a messed up bed and clothes all over the floor, but the room is vacant. I take a few more steps into the living room where I finally find him asleep on the patio with headphones on his head.
Lying on the balcony sofa, is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He may have broken my heart, and I may want to hate him with every fiber of my being, but I can't stop the way it feels to see him again. A rush of emotion hits me like a truck, and I see every memory we shared flash through my mind at once. I knew this would be hard, but I had no idea I would feel so much.
Walking deeper into what used to be my favorite place to be, I feel myself weakening under the weight of the memories we shared here and the pain of knowing we won’t be making any more.
I force myself to stop in the living room and take a deep breath. I pull my gaze away from the man asleep outside and tell myself I need to find the inner strength that brought me here. The same strength I used to confront Bellinger, and frankly, the same inner strength I use every day to simply get by. I am not here to walk down memory lane and relive our days at Eclipse. I am here to make sure he is alive and well, and then I will be on my way.
When I feel myself grow strong enough to look outside again, it’s obvious something is wrong with him. He's clearly dealing with something if the mess of the apartment and his appearance are any indication.
The sliding glass door to the balcony is open, and I use what little bit of courage I have mustered inside myself to step outside. He's wearing a pair of old sweats and no shirt. His headphones seem to be connected to a laptop, which is sitting open on his chest, but he appears to be out for the count. He's got several days’ growth shadowing his face, and his hair is a wild mess. There are cigarette butts everywhere and an empty bottle of rum on the floor next to the sofa where he lies sleeping.
I clear my throat and brace myself.
"Ronan," I say, standing near his sexy bare feet.
Nothing.
"Ronan," I say louder.
I walk to the end of the sofa where his head lies on a throw pillow, and when I lean forward to move the laptop off his chest, I audibly gasp when I see the picture on his screen. It's not a picture, though. It looks like a live video feed of my apartment building.
What the hell?
Not only has he hired goons to watch my every move, but he's watching me too?
What about my privacy?
He didn’t ask me if I wanted protection. Nope, once again he makes decisions about my life without consulting me first. So. Arrogant.
Why break up with me if you’re just going to stalk me?
Pissed off, I pick up the laptop, and
it pulls the headphones off his head. He stirs but still doesn't wake up. I push on his shoulder when what I really want to do is strangle him.
"Ronan!"
He slowly opens his eyes, and when he sees me standing above him, he shades his eyes with his hands. "I must be fucking dreaming."
Oh, my God, his voice. Hearing his voice again has my chest tightening as the pain and desperation for answers feels like breathing, let alone talking, is nearly impossible. His voice has been my undoing on more than one occasion, and I feel myself beginning to unravel from only five gravelly words.
He doesn’t get to win. I have to stay strong. Besides, he doesn’t get to stalk me and still be charming and sexy.
"Nope, it’s not a dream. I'm here. And you appear to be stalking me."
Saying it out loud was all it took. I am livid.
I can see the moment he completely wakes and realizes I am, in fact, standing before him. A look I have never seen on him crosses his features, and he looks frenzied, panicked. He pulls at his hair and rattles off a million questions.
"What happened? Why aren’t you in San Francisco? How did you find me? How did you get here? Are Bellinger and Hanson with you? Is everything okay?"
I don't answer any of his questions. I'm pissed and he doesn't deserve the answers. "Are you okay?" I ask him instead.
He doesn't answer; he just keeps frantically asking me question after question.
"Ronan! Are you okay?" I yell over his questions. It seems raising my voice has done the trick because he has finally shut up and stares at me in utter confusion. "Evelyn was worried about you and reached out wondering if I might know where you were. Your family is worried."
He scoffs at my comment about his family.
"They are."
He shakes his head and runs his hands over his face. "I'm fine. How are you?"
I can tell he's rattled, and something has him all spun up, but I can't help but bristle at his inquiry to my well-being. I'm not here to talk about me. I'm simply here to make sure he is alive.