by Tina Reber
I was glad he stood up to her, but the last thing I ever expected to deal with on this night was finding out that Ryan had had sex with two girls at once. I had to reconcile that the wild version of Ryan was a thing of the past.
I glanced out our hotel window, basking in the beautiful sunrise over Rome. It was our last stop on the Thousand Miles press junket and in a few hours we’d be on another plane heading back to the States.
I felt Ryan’s warm chest press into my back. I wrapped my hands over his. “I don’t want to go home.”
He kissed my neck. “We’re not.”
I looked up to see if he was kidding. “We’re not?”
“Nope. We are taking a three-day detour.”
That sounded wonderful. “Can I even ask, or is it a surprise?”
Ryan smirked. “Well, it is sort of a surprise, but there’s this awesome restaurant built inside a cave on this cliff that my woman said she wanted to see.”
It was better than winning the lottery. “For real? You’re not just teasing me, are you?”
He patted my rear end. “I’d never tease. Mike’s taking Marie, too. The four of us are going, but I don’t expect to see much of them.”
I was so happy, I started bouncing on my toes and clapping.
He bounced with me, mocking me. “You want more good news?”
I smiled wider. “Yes!”
“We’re going by helicopter to Polignano a Mare.”
I wanted to bounce out of my skin.
“So pack up, because we catch our ride in two hours.”
After kissing him wickedly for this huge surprise, I dashed around the room, packing up our stuff.
Ryan folded up the dress shirt he wore last night. “Pack only what you’ll need in your backpack.
There’s not a lot of room for luggage inside the cabin.”
I had to do a carry-on overhaul. I had so much crap in my bag that things were starting to fall out.
“I want to call Mike, see if we have a car coming,” Ryan said.
I took the big manila envelope that the woman at the press panel gave me the day before out of my backpack. I was starting to believe I was turning into Ryan Christensen’s briefcase. I had receipts and notes and signed documents galore.
I made a pile of important paper stuff, thinking that the manila folder would be a perfect place to shove it all; unfortunately, it didn’t work out so well. I dumped the contents out on the bed, trying to re-access what was really important to keep.
Papers, brochures, you name it. Junk, junk . . .
Something fell and hit the bed when I opened up one of the brochures from the manila envelope. It was a small piece of folded magazine paper, made into what looked like a tiny envelope.
What the hell? I opened it up and gasped.
My hands started to shake. “Ryan?”
Hearing the alarm in my voice, he came right to my side.
“What’s this?” It looked like chunks of compressed baby powder, and there was a lot of it.
He studied the item in my hands before attempting to take it away from me. “What the fuck? Don’t spill it.”
“What is it?” I asked.
I watched him take a careful sniff, and then his face twisted. “I’m not exactly sure, babe, but I think this is cocaine.”
Chapter 25
Done
I paced nervously while Mike and Ryan analyzed the contents of the little envelope.
“I think Ryan’s right,” Mike announced. “I’m pretty sure this is cocaine.”
I felt my throat tighten. That was in my backpack.
Mike pegged me with inquisitive eyes. “Where did you say you found this?”
I pointed at the manila envelope. “It was in there.”
He picked it up, looking inside. “What else was in here?”
I shuffled through the papers, separating what I believed were the original contents.
To say Ryan was pissed was putting it mildly. “Where did that envelope even come from?”
“Remember the gorgeous redhead? The one with the painted-on skirt and legs that started here?” I pointed to my neck. “She gave it to me. She said it was for you.”
Ryan suddenly slammed his fist into the dining table, stringing along a whole host of expletives.
“I think we should flush this down the toilet,” Mike said, appearing less than happy with Ryan’s outburst. “And then we are going to do a comprehensive check of all our luggage. Shirt pockets, pants, envelopes, everything gets checked. Marie, help Taryn. Go through everything and I mean everything.”
Marie and I dumped out our suitcases.
“Make a fucking list of names,” Ryan ordered. “There are only so many suspects here. When I find out who did this, I’m going to rip their throat out and bury them.”
“We’ve all touched the envelope so prints are out. I don’t think going to the authorities with it would be wise.” Mike shook his head. “We can speculate all we want. Unless someone brags or confesses, I don’t think we’ll ever know.”
Ryan stood, grabbed the little envelope thing with his fingers, and stormed off to the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush a few times.
The evidence was gone.
Ryan came back, staring at Mike as if he could magically come up with answers.
Mike was just as aggravated. “I don’t know, man. Someone was trying to set you up. If one of us had been caught with that, we’d be looking at international jail time.”
Ryan scoffed. “No shit.”
Mike ran his hand over his head. “Well, the good news is you found it before we tried to leave the country. We came in on a commercial flight, so that means the drugs had to be purchased here. Unless we contact the authorities, we have no way of launching an investigation, and you just flushed the evidence.”
“It was in my backpack,” I uttered somberly, holding back tears while I searched Ryan’s pockets for planted drugs. I turned his pocket inside out, feeling as if someone had just done the same thing to me. “I would have gone to jail.” The thought cracked me. Tears blurred my vision while deep. burning sobs rolled up my throat. Visions of being handcuffed again, hauled away like some druggie to be locked away in some foreign women’s prison for years—I couldn’t deal with that.
I’d endured so much, knowing what it felt like to be placed under arrest, seeing Ryan being carted away from me in the back of a police car, the stress, the loss, the lies, the sacrifices.
It was finally too much. Too much.
Ryan fell to his knees next to me on the floor. “Hey, hey, baby. It will be okay. Shh.”
I was shaking so hard, I couldn’t breathe. How much more of this could I endure? “Cocaine, Ryan? I can’t. I want to go home. Take me home.”
Ryan wrapped me in his arms, pulling me between his thighs. “Shh. I’ll take you home.” He kissed my hair repeatedly, rocking me. “It’s you and me, babe. You and me. Everything else is getting cut off. I promise. No more. I won’t put you through this ever again.” I heard his words but I couldn’t believe them.
What was to stop another Lauren or Nicole or even a disgruntled manager from repeating this nonsense?
Nothing.
When Ryan said we needed some air to clear our heads, he wasn’t kidding. He warmed my body as he leaned into me to share the view out of my side of the helicopter after insisting that we follow through on our vacation instead of heading back to the States. He hadn’t let go of my hand since we left the hotel in Rome. I think he was afraid I was going to end things with him.
This trip to Polignano a Mare was definitely a distraction.
Ryan was on edge, pacing around our room after we’d checked into the hotel. I opened the doors, finding some breathing space out on the balcony.
Ryan wrapped his arms around my stomach. “Nice view.”
Staring out at the vast Mediterranean Sea, that was an understatement. “It’s pretty spectacular. Thank you. It was a good idea to come here. Thank you for bri
nging me here.”
He kissed my neck, lingering for a bit. “Don’t leave me, Taryn.”
I looked up into his eyes, shocked by his words, seeing the fear in his eyes. It gripped my heart.
“You’ve been so quiet. I’m scared to imagine what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. I love you.”
He sighed and met my lips for a kiss. “Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my heart, Taryn. My heart. I don’t know who did this to us, but I swear I will find out. There will be retribution.”
I shook my head. “Nothing good ever comes from revenge. And any attempt at retaliation will surely bring more problems. No, our best bet is to just let it drop.”
He rested his forehead on my shoulder. “I can’t.”
“Oh sweetheart, you have to. News like this gets out and your picture will be splattered all over the press again. No. No more. We’ve been humiliated enough and I’m sure something will happen to put us back in the news regardless. You’ll sneeze, I’ll have a jealous fit when you have to kiss another actress—it’s always something.”
“No. Not this time. I’m done, Taryn. All I ever wanted to do was make movies but all that brings is fucking pain. No more. When we return to the States, I’m announcing my retirement.”
I looked into his eyes again, not sure if he was actually serious. “Ryan, you love being an actor. It’s what you do.”
He kissed my lips, then rested his forehead against mine. “Not anymore.”
Ryan wasn’t kidding. After we’d returned to the States, he canceled all public appearances, turned down all requests for magazine cover shoots, interviews—everything. He was contractually bound to promote the final Seaside movie but that was it.
Trish and I had talked him out of making any formal public statements about being retired, arguing that
it would only bring more attention. That was something Ryan definitely didn’t want, especially since we had to settle out of court with the photographer he’d punched.
Instead, he devoted himself to building our house—to the point where we practically moved into my pappy’s fishing cabin so we could closely monitor the progress on our adjoining land.
Marie had taken an assignment with Mike in L.A., working private security for a young actor who’d been plagued by an unwanted stalker. She was traveling so much, it was hard to keep up with her, and I missed my best friend. But I also knew she had a job to do; making chitchatty cell calls while protecting someone was frowned upon and could get you killed.
Ryan’s entire celebrity life had ground down to a halt. After a few weeks of the media wondering where he’d disappeared to, other celebrities and their antics took over the front page and Ryan slipped off the radar.
Well, that was until he went grocery shopping with me and was recognized. He’d even grown a light goatee to disguise himself. It didn’t work.
One evening, when I was finally able to talk about the white powder incident again, Ryan had built a nice fire in the fireplace and we curled up on the floor to make a list of suspects.
My money was on Nicole Devin. Lauren had brought her on the European press junket and both of them were always sniffing.
Kyle was also in Rome, but he wasn’t on the top of my list. He’d pretty much ignored me while he hit on the leggy redhead who gave me the envelope and she seemed more than receptive to his charms. But he did have motive and opportunity.
Marla Sullivan was also a suspect to consider. But even though that nasally bitch would probably get her kicks seeing Ryan fall from grace, she didn’t strike me as the type who’d solicit someone to get her cocaine.
And then there was David. Bitter, jaded, asshole David. Ryan had fired him officially in Rome, making sure the weasel knew in no uncertain terms that he’d been terminated. He’d flown off the handle when Ryan had called Aaron, his agent, to make sure the message was passed through the ranks. After that, David spent quite a bit of time scowling at us and bending Marla’s ear, so imagining that those two got together and plotted against us wasn’t too far-fetched.
There were quite a few others that had been on the press tour, but we’d quickly eliminated everyone who had no motive.
But we didn’t make any progress, other than making a short list of people we wanted absolutely nothing to do with ever again. We also had the satisfaction of knowing that whoever did try to set us up had failed miserably.
Despite all the things keeping Ryan busy, I could tell he was unhappy. The sadness was always there, itching like a scab that just wouldn’t heal. I was starting to feel guilty, as if he’d given up acting for me.
As much as I enjoyed being out of the spotlight, I knew in my heart that Ryan wouldn’t be satisfied with life if he didn’t act.
It was in his blood.
It was what he excelled at beyond all other things.
In front of the camera was where he belonged.
Ryan wasn’t living; he was existing. He was doing everything possible to avoid admitting that he was miserable not working. He didn’t need to say it; I could read him well enough to know exactly what
plagued him.
We had set October 20 as our wedding date, taking Mike’s advice and getting married in the Maldives.
I didn’t care where we got married; as long as we had a beachside villa to snuggle in, I’d be content.
But as much as I wanted to marry Ryan, I couldn’t. Not like this.
I needed him whole before he committed to me and he was anything but whole right now.
That light that used to dance in his eyes was gone.
His spirit was broken and it tore me apart.
I had convinced Ryan to return to Seaport with me under the guise that I had business in the bar to attend to, but really I needed a strong Wi-Fi connection, which was nonexistent at the cabin. I knew exactly what I wanted to get Ryan for a wedding gift, but I needed time to execute my plan.
Since the pub wasn’t so busy, Ryan and I decided to have lunch downstairs. We were dying to sample some of the new entrees Tammy was serving up. Even the apartment smelled deliciously edible.
“Did you call your lawyer back?” I asked, trying not to burn my lips on the piping-hot French onion soup I was drooling over.
Ryan nodded, chomping down on his chicken club panini.
“So you told him no prenup? Are you sure?”
Ryan looked me square in the eyes. “Positive. You need a prenup? I’ve got one better.” He grabbed a Mitchell’s Pub napkin from the holder and borrowed a pen from one of the new waitresses. I watched him carefully write on the napkin, doing his best not to tear it. “After all, this love affair of ours really began when you gave me your phone number. Remember?”
I was dying to know what he was writing. I drifted my foot over his under the table. “Of course I remember. I wrote it on a Mitchell’s napkin.”
“Which I still have, by the way.” He smiled fondly. As soon as he was done writing, he placed the napkin across the table in front of me.
I smiled and laughed when I read, “I promise to never fight over the toaster.” It meant a lot that he said that, knowing Marie and Gary had fought over such trivial things.
I motioned for the pen, grabbed another napkin, and wrote, “I promise never to steal your toaster or your TV.”
He laughed and tapped on the napkin. “That better include the remote when I’m watching hockey, hon. Just saying. Give me the pen. It’s my turn.” While he was busy writing, I went behind the bar to grab my own pen.
I came back to “I promise to buy you your own TV so we never have to argue about what’s on.”
That made me laugh. “I draw the line at golf.” I wrote on mine, “I promise to never take your money.”
He stared at me for a few moments and frowned. “That’s a given, Tar.” The note he passed back stated, “I promise to never complain about you spending my money.” And when it comes to stuff for the house, I’m drawing the l
ine at curtain shopping. If you love me, you’ll never ask me what I think about that sort of stuff.”
“Okay, no curtain shopping. Got it.” I put his message on our growing pile and wrote, “I promise to be a good wife.”
His smile was mesmerizing. I got back, “I promise to be a good husband.”
I gazed at the warm, blue eyes that meant everything to me. “We keep this up and we won’t have to write wedding vows.”
“Well if that’s the case.” Ryan quickly scribbled another one. “I promise to start every day and end every night telling you I love you.”
I wanted to climb into his lap. I leaned over the table and kissed him. Trying to top that was difficult. I ended up writing, “I promise to love only you until I take my last dying breath.”
“Till death do us part,” he whispered. His next message: “I promise to love you forever.”
“Well then…” I slapped “I promise to always tend to your needs” in front of him.
He tapped on my napkin vow and grinned. “I’m going to hold you to this one. You know how needy I am.”
His next message said, “I promise to only have eyes for you.”
That one struck me right in the heart. I scribbled on the bottom of it: “For as long as we both shall live?”
He gave me a warm smile, a wink, and a nod.
I quickly followed up with “I promise to give you a blow job on your birthday.”
Ryan held the napkin up, looked like he’d won the lottery for a few seconds, and then asked. “Only on my birthday?” He sorted through the small pile and held up the one that said I’d always tend to his needs.
“I’m thinking I’m way more needy than that, babe. My needs are constant.”
I quickly scribbled, “I promise no matter how needy you get, to never make you sleep on the couch.”
Ryan held up a finger for me to wait while he wrote on his napkin, “Do you promise to talk to me when something is bothering you?”
I wrote on the bottom of it, “Yes, and you?” and passed it back to him.
Ryan wrote his “Yes” underneath mine and underlined it twice.