Reprise (Ruby Riot #3)

by Lisa Swallow

  “Don’t you bloody start too,” says Jax

  “I believe you. Why wouldn’t I? Jesus, Jax.”

  Nate’s grip on my hand tightens. “Fuck this shit,” he mumbles. “I need another beer.”

  We both back off and I retreat to the black leather sofa in the corner, happy to sit on rather than hide behind now Nate’s with me. We’re partially hidden by a loud group and I absentmindedly pinpoint which TV show I know them from. A soap, I think. Or reality TV. Difficult to tell the difference these days.

  Nate disappears to the kitchen and reappears a couple of minutes later with a beer. Will passes with Fleur and Nate flops down next to me.

  My wine spills at the movement and Nate wipes it from the top of my dress, fingers lingering a moment. “I had words with my dickhead brother. You okay?”

  “Yes. Do Jax and Tegan still fight all the time?” I ask and place my glass on the floor.

  “Not always. Often.”

  “Jax doesn’t… you know. Do things. With girls.”

  Nate laughs and swigs from his bottle. “I think he’d like to keep hold of his genitalia; Tegan would rip them off. Nah, he loves Tegan, but I think they’re too intense. Too young for marriage, that’s for sure.”

  “They’re perfect together though. What’s too young when you think you’ve found someone you want to spend your life with?”

  Nate shifts. “They are. Besides, that soulmate stuff is bullshit. Nobody stays the same at their age; life changes you.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you believe in crap like soul mates?” he asks in surprise. “I don’t. Load of horseshit.”

  “Jury’s out,” I say with a small smile. “Not in my experience but everybody is different. Maybe if you find ‘the one’” — I make air commas — “you’re willing to grow together. Compromise.”

  Like if one of you has a son she hasn’t told you about.

  “So a selfish bastard like me has no chance?” He drinks and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You’re funny. You’re not as selfish as you think you are, Nate.”

  “Yeah?”

  I kiss his nose. “Yeah.”

  Nate gives a small shake of his head and returns my kiss. “But are you okay now?”

  “Fine. I wasn’t expecting that kind of introduction.”

  “Will’s a jerk when he’s drunk.” He pauses. “We both are.”

  “I know.” I point at his bottle. “Please don’t have too many.”

  Nate points at my glass. “You too.”

  Too late. “Deal. I’ll stop now.”

  “No way! I’ve only had two.”

  “Do what you want, Nate. Stay sober enough for later, please.”

  Nate twists his body, hiding me from view as he trails fingers from my cheek to my neck. “Too damn right.”

  I open my mouth to say I meant the talk we need to have, but the temptation called Nate Campbell wipes away the words. I hold the back of his head and kiss him, not giving a crap what people say. If Will shouts about us again, he’s liable to receive a smack from one or both of us.

  I move away and rest my head against Nate’s chest and Nate strokes my bare arm. I’m content for the first time in months.

  Our tentative relationship announced, statement made, as we appear in public together, but I didn’t expect tactile Nate too. And with our last step away from Riley versus Nate, comes the need to leave behind Riley versus Riley.

  28

  RILEY

  I’m reluctant to leave Nate and his surprising intimacy but excuse myself for the bathrooms. The room took on an unfortunate spinning effect a few minutes ago, and closing, then opening my eyes hasn’t solved the problem. I stumble towards the cloakroom but the door is locked. There’ll be another upstairs but standing and moving has made things worse.

  Wine burns my throat, and I fight the urge to vomit.

  Kitchen. Door. Outside. Please don’t be locked.

  Pushing through the door, I move as far from the house as I can, into the lawned garden, before retching. The evening cools the perspiration on my forehead as I bend over, holding my hair from my face and vomit again.

  I shiver against the icy breeze, cursing my stupidity. I didn’t eat this evening; too busy choosing an outfit for a celebrity party, a dress now splashed with vomited wine. My throat is raw, eyes stinging, and I gulp in breaths. Ugh, Riley, you mess. I chomp my lip to stop the tears. This evening has been a mistake from start to finish. Humiliation by Will, the waiting confession dragging me down, and now this.

  “Riley?”

  At Nate’s voice, I pull myself to my feet and bend over, sliding my hands along my knees. “Yes.”

  “Have you been sick? How drunk are you?”

  I stagger toward Nate, scrubbing my eyes with my shirtsleeve. “I think I had too much to drink.”

  Nate holds my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Are you crying? Did my dickhead brother upset you that much?”

  “No. I drank too much because I was nervous, that’s all. Didn’t eat much today.”

  “Not like you to be nervous.”

  “I was. Can we go?”

  He rubs his head. “Go? We haven’t been at the party long. I wanted to catch up with the guys.”

  I shiver. “Fine. But I can’t stay, I feel really sick, Nate.”

  “Yeah, true. I can call you a cab if you like?”

  I rub my head. Why did I expect him to do the gentlemanly thing and help me home? I cross my arms so Nate can’t touch me and walk back into the kitchen. Nate pulls a chair out. “Sit down.”

  What if I’m sick again and clients see me? “Can I wait out the front?”

  “Out the front?” repeats Nate. “Are you insane? It’s bloody freezing.”

  “I don’t want to throw up on one of Tegan’s expensive new rugs.”

  “Funny, Riley. Sit.”

  Too tired to argue, I sink into a chair and hold my head in my hands.

  Nate calls a taxi and I keep my head down, fixing my eyes on Nate’s boots as he sits next to me, a hand on my leg.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying at the party?” Nate asks.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  Disappointment twists a knot in my aching stomach as I hear Nate help himself to a new beer. For once, I wanted somebody to care for and look after me. Illogical. I’m wasting my time if I expect somebody like Nate to worry. Anyway, how could I ask Nate to take me home without asking him inside? My house is Josh’s too, and filled with signs Josh lives there, that isn’t how I want Nate to find out.

  I abandon holding myself together and slump forward, head on the table. Since when did my sensible decision-making skills abandon me?

  NATE

  I help myself to a handful of crackers and ignore the fancy dips on the dining table. Shoving them in my mouth, I wander back into the party to find the guys. Will isn’t around but Jax and Tegan are talking quietly to each other near the window. I hesitate before I go over.

  “Where’s Will?” I ask.

  “Where’s Riley?” asks Tegan.

  “She went home.”

  Tegan’s brow furrows. “Why? Because of Will?”

  “She puked. Wasn’t feeling good so I put her in a cab.”

  “Nate!” Tegan’s mouth falls open and I swear she’s about to slap me.

  “What?”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “Uh. Riley said she didn’t care if I stayed.”

  “Seriously? You put your sick girlfriend in a taxi to go home alone?”

  “I said Riley was okay about it.” But with the words come doubts.

  “You’re still an insensitive jerk, then?” she snaps. “Maybe she didn’t want to sound needy. This is Riley we’re talking about. Any half-decent guy would’ve made sure she got home okay.”

  Fuck. “Yeah, I’m a selfish bastard. Nothing changes.”

  Tegan’s voice rises. “You h
ad better not hook up with another girl because Riley went home.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Why else would you stay?”

  “To be with my mates, Tegan. You’re out of line telling me what to do.”

  Jax places a hand on Tegan’s arm. “I don’t think Riley’s the only one who drank too much.”

  “I’m not staying to listen to this. Where’s Will?” I ask.

  “With Fleur. You should take some tips from your brother about how to treat women,” replies Tegan.

  “You know what, Tegan? Shut your mouth before I say something I’ll regret.”

  “Tegan. Calm down,” says Jax.

  “She’s my friend.”

  “Not exactly your best friend, so why the big deal?” I snap.

  “Well, I like her.”

  “And so do I, or didn’t you notice? So I made a mistake not being able to read her fucking mind, but how does that make me a jerk?” I jab a finger at her. “You might be okay talking to Jax like this, but don’t throw this shit at me and expect me to take it.”

  “Whoa. Okay, you two.” Jax steps between us, jaw tight. “Back off, Nate.”

  “Tell her to back off!”

  With one last sour look, Tegan stalks away. I watch her haughty figure and shake my head. “No wonder you two fight all the time, she’s as big a princess as you.”

  “Fuck you, Nate.” Jax heads after his wife.

  “Why am I the bad guy?” I call after him. “Jesus, you’re all so full of crap these days.”

  I push my way through the room and sit on the hard, wooden stairs in the hallway opposite the front doors. One more word from Tegan and the next words from my mouth would reward me with a smack from Jax. Why the fuck did Tegan need to interfere?

  Yeah, I’m a jerk sending Riley away like that; but after years as a selfish asshole, my intuition around anybody’s feelings is poor. Especially women. How am I supposed to interpret Riley saying no to me, actually meant yes? Taking her home crossed my mind, but Riley’s not exactly the kind of girl who would want me fussing. Is she? I’m fucking confused here.

  Plus there was the “I want to talk to you” line Riley threw at me when she arrived, which set my hackles up. Okay, we’ve admitted to others and each other this is more than sex, but I’m not ready for the full on give-everything-we-have relationship. No way. Talking about shit? Minimal and only when necessary.

  I’ve a lot to learn and the biggest issue here is am I prepared to take the lessons?

  I pick the silver foil from the bottle neck, roll it into a ball, and throw it onto the floor. Fine. I’ll go see Riley first thing tomorrow. Take her flowers or some shit. I dunno.

  Tegan’s ranting pricks my conscience, and I worry I’ve upset Riley. Surely Riley doesn’t expect me to be Mr. Sensitive? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I pull out my phone and when Riley doesn’t answer my call, I send a text instead.

  Or attempt to.

 

  No. I delete and try again

  Ugh. No way.

 

  Hmm. Nope.

 

  I sit for ten minutes, oblivious to the people passing around me as I figure out how to send a text I’m happy with. One that can’t be misread. What if she’s pissed off with me and I make things worse? Fucking Tegan messing with my head.

  I type what I intend as a final message. Then re-read the words, decide it sounds pathetic, then erase and start a new one.

  Fuck it. My head hurts. I don’t know what I’m trying to say anymore.

 

  I hit send.

  29

  RILEY

  All I can manage for breakfast is a slice of toast and strong coffee. I managed to hold everything in until I arrived home, then spent half the night on the bathroom floor. Thank god Josh wasn’t home to see his mum in that mess. Interspersed with the vomiting was the regret at the missed chance to talk to Nate.

  As soon as I’m up to calling Nate, this is a done deed.

  Then back to work on Monday and another layer of deceit will be unwrapped. ‘Hey, did you know Riley has a kid? And she’s screwing Nate Campbell?’ Then they’ll do the maths… is this the reason we hated each other? I give a small laugh. Me, Nate Campbell, and our five-year-old love child. One photo of us together and the rumours will fly. Never mind we didn’t know each other five years ago.

  The truth? A guy from school who sweet-talked me into sex, filled my head with bullshit about love and commitment, then couldn’t get away fast enough when I told him I was pregnant. Worse than that, he denied the baby was his.

  The fallout over my pregnancy at home wasn’t a shock to me; Mum’s insistence I have the baby and she’ll help was. I don’t have any siblings, and later Mum told me her and Dad had wanted more children and she never fell pregnant again. Vague childhood memories of whispered conversations and hospital visits returned, and Mum told me about IVF attempts. They always hid things from me and it pissed me off I wasn’t told. At one point, I thought Mum had mental health issues because her moods were so erratic. Now I understand it was the hormones, and grief at each failed attempt or early miscarriage.

  Hiding truths from me never changed. When Dad received his cancer diagnosis, they said nothing until my suspicions led to me asking. I think this is why I told them about the baby and as early as I did. I refused to hide secrets the way they did.

  You’d think an only child would be lavished with attention but there was always a distance, especially with Dad. I looked for male attention elsewhere and look where it got me.

  Mum helped a lot when Josh was a baby. As soon as he was born, I applied for jobs, determined to provide for him and refusing to take benefits. The summer before the pregnancy disaster, I’d talked my way into work experience with a PR firm. My tenacity could be termed stubbornness, or sometimes obstinacy, but my personality sure as hell worked for me.

  When Josh was a few months old, I took a job at SMC as a PA and clawed my way up from there, throwing my whole self into progressing as fast as I could. Extra hours, exhausting days. Secrets.

  As Josh grew older, and my regret over my poor parenting took over, I attempted to balance my life more. This balance meant no life for me outside of work and Josh, and each year that passed, the harder I found it to tell people and face their judgement. One person knows, Tina, and I never told her until Josh was almost two. She was shocked but non-committal; told me to keep up my work and she wouldn’t care.

  I’m prepared for the news to send Nate running and I accept this. In our snow-covered world, we were two people disconnected from life but always knew reality would be unkind. Was I stupid enough to think we’d fall in love and have a happy ever after if we grew closer first? I should visit somebody about my delusional thoughts.

  I shake my head to shake in sense. The chances of Nate, Josh, and me taking a happy family stroll rank less than zero.

  I manage to combat my hangover with painkillers and a lot of water, dozing on the sofa until close to lunch. The pounding in my head retreats and I curl up beneath a blanket, reading. Somebody knocks on the door and I wince at the sound. Did I order something? Maybe Mum forgot her key. I look down at my pyjamas and run fingers through my tangled hair, debating whether to answer.

  I open the door and my breath hitches.

  Nate.

  Well, a man on my doorstep holding a bunch of flowers who looks a lot like the rock star who has my heart in a vice. This man freaks me out more every day because each time I think I understand him something else comes from left field. I flail around for words but can’t get past the panicked need for him to leave.

  “Nate? What are you doing here?”

  “Hello is the usual greeting.”

&nb
sp; “How do you know where I live?”

  He gives me an odd look. “You asked me to order the taxi for you last night. Remember?”

  “Oh. No.” I stare at the bouquet. Yellow roses. Whoa. “Are they for me?”

  “Yeah.” He thrusts them at me. “Sorry about last night.”

  The cellophane rustles as I take them. “About what? What did you do?” My chest tightens. At the party. Another girl? He can forget smoothing things over with a bunch of bloody flowers. I ready myself to shove them back in his face.

  “Nothing. It’s what I didn’t do. I should’ve taken you home.”

  Nate’s words, softly spoken tighten his grip on me. We’re casual, giving this a go, but I want him to want me. Underneath all my bluff, I long for someone in my life who understands me and my boundaries, and can love me for them. I’d respect his too because I understand them.

  “I didn’t want you to. I was fine.”

  “You were sick and a decent guy would.”

  “I really did want to go home alone, Nate.”

  His shoulders slump. “For fuck’s sake. I knew she was overreacting.”

  “Who?”

  “Tegan gave me a mouthful about leaving you to go home alone.”

  I rest against the door frame, amused with myself for thinking Nate’s regret at his actions came from within himself. “I’m not Tegan, am I?”

  “Yeah, but she confused me, and I didn’t want to piss you off. Thought if I apologised you wouldn’t get the shits with me.”

  “Oh, Nate. You’re funny.”

  Oh god, don’t look at me like that. This guy has the smouldering look perfected, and half the time I swear Nate doesn’t realise. His intense eyes and expression he often walks around with make brooding his natural state.

  “Inviting me in, then?” In typical Nate fashion, he doesn’t wait for a reply and shoves past me.

  No. Josh’s things are everywhere. Toys, photos… Can anything else out of my control happen this weekend? “For an hour. I’m heading out.”

  “Where?”

  “Out.” My mind races through the situation and possibilities. Josh will be home in a couple of hours.