by Megyn Ward
“I’m not sleeping with you.” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, my cheeks go warm and I have to mentally weld my spine into place to keep myself from looking away from him. “I mean it, Ryan,” I hiss at him because I’m the kind of idiot who likes to make things worse. “So, if that’s what this is then—”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk and he cracks a lid, giving me some side-eye. “Your virtue is safe with me, Jimmy,” he says, right before the elevator bobs to a stop and the doors slide open on his floor. Pulling his slumped shoulders off the wall, he shuffles himself out of the elevator and down the hall. Stopping in front of his front door, he leans against the doorframe. “You want to open the door?” he says, giving a chin jerk to the keys I still have clutching in my hand. “It’s the blue one.”
“Oh...” Stepping forward, I find the key that has a blue silicone bumper on it and fit it into the door and giving it a turn.
Without warning, the apartment door directly behind me opens and I turn, letting the doorknob slip out of my hand without opening it.
“Hey, Patrick’s been texting me for an hour now. He said…” The woman standing in the doorway says, her voice trailing off when she sees me. “I know you.” I recognize her too. She’s the nurse from Sojourn. The one who helped us the day Molly and I visited Ryan there. Pretty. Young—not much older than me, with long dark hair and the kind of curves that are noticeable, even under the baggy T-shirt and flannel pants she’s wearing.
Kaitlyn.
I think her name is Kaitlyn.
I hate her on sight.
Ryan curses under his breath and reaches for the door himself, grappling with the knob and pushing it open. “Yeah—what the hell does he want?” he says on his way through the door.
“Something about you taking off from his wedding reception with his sister-in-law and her kid,” she calls after him. Rolling her eyes when she doesn’t get a response, she steps into the hall, pulling her door shut behind her. “I’m Kaitlyn,” she says, sticking her hand out. “I used to work at Sojourn and thought I’d gotten rid of the pain in my ass that is Ryan O’Connell, but…” She shrugs. “Here I am—a glutton for punishment.” Her gaze drifts down my frame before bouncing back up. “Nice dress—the color is amazing on you.”
Looking down at the bridesmaid dress I’m still wearing, a Grecian-style gown with a deep V-neck and a slit in the skirt that reaches mid-thigh, I force a smile onto my face. “I’m Grace—the sister-in-law,” I tell her, taking the hand she’s offering and giving it a shake. “Thank you.” As soon as I let it go, she’s through the door to Ryan’s apartment, leaving me little choice but to follow.
“He says he’s been calling you but—”
Ryan comes out of what must be his spare room, without Molly. “I don’t fuck with my phone while I’m driving,” he says, tugging at his tie like it’s trying to choke him. “—he knows that.” Looking past him, I can see Molly, sprawled out on a futon, her grubby white dress shining like a beacon in the dark. “She’s fine, just let her sleep,” he says, pulling my attention away from her to find him frowning at me like he can read my mind. “She’ll survive the night without brushing her teeth.” Free of his tie, he drops it on the floor and starts to work himself out of his jacket, his dark gaze shifting past me to focus on the woman behind me. “What did he say?”
“That Declan is driving your car home for you and that he wants you to call him A-sap,” she tells him while moving into the kitchen. I watch as she opens one of the upper cabinets and pulls out a glass and fills it with water from the tap like she lives here. “He sounded kinda pissed.”
“He’ll get over it,” Ryan tells her before looking at me. “Do you need something to sleep in?”
“Ummm…” I look down at the duffle I’m carrying and do a quick inventory. All I have in it is a change of clothes for me and Molly’s PJs. Her toothbrush. I figured I could give her a quick bath at Declan’s and put her in her pajamas before we left because there was a 100% chance she’d fall asleep on the long drive back to Boston. That way I could just put her to bed when we got home without having to wake her up. “Yes.”
“You want me to grab her something?” Kaitlyn offers while rummaging through another kitchen cabinet and pulling out a prescription bottle. “I can—”
“No.” Still looking at me, Ryan drops his gaze and starts making his way across the living room toward his bedroom. “I’ll take care her,” he says, disappearing through the door. Less than a minute later, he’s back with what looks like a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Here.” He holds them out to me and I take them. “I’m going to go take a shower and—”
“Not so fast,” Kaitlyn says from the kitchen, holding out the glass of water and a small, white pill in the palm of her hand. When Ryan doesn’t move to take them, she sighs. “Come on just take it so I can go back to my apartment.”
“I’m fine,” he growls at her, his jaw tightening when she laughs at him.
“You’re not fine, tough guy, you’re in pain,” she says, coming forward to press the glass into his hand. “And you know if you don’t take it you’ll sleep like shit and then you won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning so just—”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, holding out his empty hand to give his fingers an impatient wiggle. “Fine—I’ll take it if you promise to leave.”
“Scout’s honor,” she says, dropping the pill into his hand. He tosses it into his mouth and washes it down with the water while doing everything he can to avoid looking at me. He told me once that he doesn’t like taking his pain meds. I guess that’s one of the things about him that hasn’t changed. That and the fact that he still sees alternately repulsed and turned on by me.
Draining the glass, Ryan shoves it back into Kaitlyn’s hand. “You know where the door is. Feel free to use it,” he says to her before finally looking at me. “Do you need to take a shower?”
“Ummm…” I look down at the pile of clothes he’s just handed me and nod like an idiot. “Yes. I would—I mean it’s been a long day and…” Jesus Christ, why can’t I speak in complete sentences? It’s not like he offered to scrub my back or wash my hair. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime of stuttering, I give up trying to make sense and just nod my head. “Yes, please.”
“Alrighty then—that’s my cue,” Kaitlyn says, turning to set Ryan’s empty glass on the kitchen island before she starts moving toward the open door. “Catch you tomorrow—it was nice to see you again, Grace.”
Before I can say you too, she’s out the door, pulling it closed behind her.
Thirty-two
Ryan
As soon as Kaitlyn leaves, I shuffle step my way to the front door and lock it and set the alarm. Because I’m not sure what to do next, I shuffle step my way into the kitchen, snagging my empty glass off the counter on my way to the sink. There, I rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher and recap the bottle Kaitlyn left open next to the coffee pot. She does it on purpose. Her way of making me acknowledge the pain. Accept that even though it’s better on most days, that it’ll never go away completely. That it’s a part of who I am now.
When Henley suggested poaching her from Sojourn, I thought she was kidding. “Why the hell would she want to work here?” I asked her. “She knows I live here. She just got rid of me.”
Hen just shrugged and said there’s no harm in asking. A week later, Kaitlyn was accepting a position as the 5th floor nurse here at the center. She’s been my neighbor for the past three months and a pain in my ass for just as long.
I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.
Even though the prescription bottle has a child-proof lid on it, I stick it in the front pocket of my pants before turning around to find Grace standing where I left her, still holding the pile of clothes I gave her to wear.
Shower.
Right.
Moving past her, I cross the living room. “You can use my shower if you want,” I tell her, passing through the
bedroom door. Surprisingly, she follows me, past the bed and through the open archway that leads to the bathroom. “There’re towels in there.” I motion toward the cabinet built into the wall. “And I think there’s a new toothbrush around here somewhere...” Stooping down, I open the cabinet under the sink I use and start rummaging around. “I’m not really sure if—”
“I’m sorry.”
Still stooped over, I feel my heart stutter to a stop before taking off again, this time the thump of it so hard and loud, that for a second it’s all I can hear. The only thing I can feel. Straightening myself, I toss the toothbrush I found on the counter next to the sink. “Sorry for what?”
“For being such a huge bitch earlier. I just...” She hugs the wadded up ball of clothes I gave her to her chest and shrugs. “I guess I didn’t realize how much you love her until just now.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Love who? Kaitlyn?” The thought is laughable. “No—she’s just—”
“Molly.” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, her brow creasing in a frown. “You love Molly.”
Suddenly defensive, I lean my ass against the bathroom counter. “Oh…” I cross my arms over my chest and shrug. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not even sure why I said it. I guess maybe I’m just trying to figure out what we’re doing here. Why—”
Because I love you.
I love both of you.
“Now?” I ask her, dropping my arms away from my chest because I tired and I’d really hoped to avoid it until we’ve both got our heads on a bit straighter. “We’re doing this now?”
Yeah. We’re doing this now.” She gives me one of her stubborn head nods, lifting her chin to look at me. “Right now.”
“Alright.” I hold my arms out in invitation, opening myself up to her. “Then ask me.”
“Okay—what are we doing here, Ryan?” She takes a step toward me, tossing the change of clothes I gave her onto the counter next to me. “What’s happening? Do you really expect Molly and me to just move in here with you?” She reaches up to rake her fingers through her hair like she’s thinking about pulling it out. “I mean, do you know how crazy that sounds? Do you even—”
“Stop.” I lift a hand between us and shake my head. “I’m still slow, Jimmy—probably always gonna be, so quit with the rapid-fire, okay?” I say, dropping my hand on a harsh push of breath when her mouth snaps shut. “I don’t know what’s happening and I have no fucking idea what we’re doing here.” Pressing my palms against the counter I’m leaning on and shrug. “All I know is that when I walked into that kitchen and saw you standing there, you looked so…” Lifting a hand from the counter, I swipe it over my face, searching for the right word. “Alone.” Finally landing on it, I drop my hand and sigh. “You looked alone and, in that moment, I hated every single one of them for making you feel that way. For acting like Molly is some kind of burden that has to be dealt with, and I—”
“She is a burden,” she says quietly. “I love her so much I’d kill and die for her, but that’s what she is, Ryan. She’s a burden. She’s loud and messy and throws tantrums and ruins things. She took a pair of scissors to Patrick and Cari’s couch yesterday. I just flipped the cushion and pretended it didn’t happen because I’m too much of a coward to tell them.” She makes a noise in the back of her throat that I think might be a laugh but it sounds watery, like she’s trying to breathe under water. “I haven’t had a full night's sleep since the day she was born. I worry about her constantly. Is she eating enough? Is she growing? Is she hitting all her milestones? Is nice to the other kids in her class? Is she a bully? Is she getting bullied? Is she going to be a good person when she grows up? Is she going to make the same dumb, fucked-up mistakes I made when she gets older?
Do you even know what that means? Do you understand what you’re asking for? The kind of upheaval that having us—”
“I’m not stupid, Grace,” I tell her, feeling the back of my neck go tight with irritation. “I get that it’s not going to be easy. I get that raising a kid is hard—what I’m telling you is that you don’t have to do it alone.”
“What are you saying?” She says it like I just told her I’m thinking about joining a monastery.
“Earlier, you said I’m not Molly’s father, and you’re right—I’m not.” I’m not even sure I know what I’m trying to tell her but when I open my mouth it just comes out. “But what if I want to be? What if—”
“I was raped.”
She blurts it out, shoving the words at me, hard and fast like she’s trying to hurt me with them at it works. As soon as she says it, as soon as my brain processes what she’s telling me, what it means, I feel like I’m standing on top of that IUD, all over again. Afraid to move because I know what’s coming, I just don’t know when. My entire body clench, every joint and vertebra locked tight against the world of hurt that baring down on me, seconds before I feel my entire body has burst into flames.
“What?” It’s a stupid thing to say. Stupid and wrong but I’m praying to God I heard her wrong. That my fucked-up brain is playing a cruel joke on me.
But it’s not.
I heard her just fine.
I understood perfectly.
I know, because Grace reaches up and pushes my hand away from her face and looks away from me, her cheeks flushed with shame. “I was raped. That’s why I don’t know who Molly’s father is—that’s where she came from.” She says it like that’s it. That’s the whole story—everything I need to know, summed up in a handful of words. But she’s wrong. That’s not everything. Not even close.
Who.
Where.
What.
That’s what I need to know.
Who is he.
Where can I find him.
What will it feel like when I kill him.
Still unable to look at me, she takes a step back. “Can you get out now, please?” She flings her arm toward the open archway that leads to my bedroom. “I’ve had a pretty rough couple of hours and I’d really like to cry and—”
I kiss her.
Just step right into her and press my lips against hers until her mouth goes still and quiet. Pulling back a little, I glare down at her. “Nice try.”
Like me, it takes her a few seconds to process what I just said to her. When she finally gets it, her dark blonde brows slam down over her narrowed blue eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Reaching for her again, I push my fingers into her hair to cup my hand around the curve of her neck, pulling her against me. “Nice try, Jimmy—but if that’s your best shot at getting rid of me, I gotta tell you, not impressed.”
“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question and it kills me, the absolute certainty I hear in her tone. That things are going exactly as she expected. That when she finally found the courage to tell someone the truth, she’d be branded as a liar. “You think I’m lying.”
“No.” It’s the truth. I believe her. I don’t even question it. I just know. “I know you’re telling me the truth. What I’m telling you, since you seem to think I would, is that I don’t care where Molly came from. I’m here—I’m standing right here and I’m not moving. Not one goddamned inch, no matter what you throw at me.”
“Because you love Molly.”
“Yes.” I nod my head, cursing myself for a coward because even though it’s the truth, it’s not the whole truth. It’s not the only reason I want them to stay. “Because I love Molly.”
“This is crazy,” she whispers up at me, shaking her head. “It’s not going to work. It won’t—”
“It can,” I cut her off because I don’t want to hear prudent and rational right now. All I want to hear is her telling me yes. That she’ll stay. Give me a chance. “It will if we want it to.”
“I have to do what’s best for Molly.” Reaching up, she wraps her hand around my wrist, pulling my hand away from her neck. “I need to think—I can’t do that when you’re
touching me.”
Curbing my impulse to kiss her again, I nod. “Okay—then just give me a week,” I say, trying to reason with her, find a way to get her say yes, even if it’s just for a little while. “A trial run. Tomorrow is Sunday. We’ll sit down and work out the logistics.” I can see it on her face, she’s going to say no. She’s going to leave and knowing it makes me desperate. Makes me want to drop down to my knees and beg. “A week, Grace—that’s all I’m asking for—and don’t say it’ll confuse Molly because I’m pretty sure she’s the only one in this situation who isn’t confused.”
She doesn’t answer me right away. She just stands there and looks at me like she can’t decide if I’m completely crazy or not. Finally she sighs and nods her head. “Okay—one week. We’ll give it a try.”
Thirty-three
Grace
This might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. When I said yes, I told myself I was doing it for Molly. That she deserved to be happy. That Ryan loves her. Wants to be in her life and the selfish thing would be to deny her that simply because I’m unable to handle the fact that I’m in love with him and can’t have him.
That’s what I realized, standing in his bathroom in my rumpled bridesmaid dress—That I’m in love with Ryan, That I’m desperately, hopelessly in love with him and I’m willing to do just about anything to keep him—even if it means invading his life and taking advantage of the fact that he has no idea what he was asking for when he asked us to stay.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel off and get dressed in the pair of boxers and T-shirt Ryan gave me, making sure I shut the light off before I exit the bathroom. The bedroom is dark and I’m sure he’s sleeping despite the fact that he wanted to shower before going to bed, so I’m surprised when I see the silhouette of him, sitting on the side of the bed, outlined in the dim light of the moon streaming through his window, like he’s waiting for me. Suddenly nervous, I stop in my tracks. “Do you want me to turn the light back on?” I ask him. “I wasn’t sure—”