“We really have to stop meeting like this.”
For a split second, he almost didn’t know who the voice belonged to. But it was the slight accent that did it. Turning, he faced, Mariana with a smile.
Pretty as always, she was in a white romper, and high-heeled sandals that extended her five-foot-three inch frame up another two, or so. Letting her head to fall to one side, she flipped her sheet of dark hair out of her face.
She wasn’t smiling back, and he knew why.
“I’ve been wondering whether I would run into you here again,” she said.
“Had to happen, sooner or later,” Spencer said. He leaned in to kiss her perfunctorily on the cheek.
Mariana received the kiss but didn’t return it. “It’s not like I expected a dozen red roses or anything,” she said. “But I did think, maybe a phone call. An explanation.”
“You’re right,” Spencer said, glancing over her shoulder back toward the other end of the store where Ryann was still poring over the pre-packaged seafood selections. “But I hope we can …”
“Be friends?” Mariana asked sarcastically.
“Put it behind us,” Spencer said. “I’m not dumb enough to think that after what happened, we would be …”
“After ‘what happened’? How about after what you did? Nothing just happened. You did something.”
Ryann had picked something, and now was heading back toward him.
“Sir?” The bakery attendant was trying to get his attention. “Here’s your cake.”
Spencer turned and took the box, returning his attention to Mariana. “Look, I wish I could make it up to you. But obviously, you’re still upset. And I don’t blame you.”
Ryann was about ten paces away now.
“How could you blame me? I was the one who was …”
Nine, eight, seven, six …
“Got the cake?”
Ryann had two plastic containers in her hands, one with salmon, and the other with mussels in garlic oil. They had become her snack of choice lately, and more than once, she’d called Spencer when he was on his way over, asking him to pick them up for her, along with crackers, and her favorite, fizzy pomegranate soda.
Mariana turned toward the voice just behind her and then did a double-take when she took in Ryann’s belly. Slowly, her gaze returned to Spencer, and her eyes hardened.
“Yeah. Got her the chocolate,” Spencer said.
Ryann walked up next to him and then glanced at Mariana, a slight smile on her face, and a question in her eyes.
“Ryann, this is Mariana. Mariana, this is my … this is Ryann.”
The women briefly shook hands and Ryann said a quiet ‘hello’ but Mariana didn’t speak. Not at first.
“Wow,” she said, when she found her voice. It was dry. “Congratulations. How far along are you?”
How had he known that was what she would ask?
“Five-and-a-half months,” Ryann said, putting her free hand on her belly. “Thank you.”
Mariana narrowed her eyes, and Spencer could feel her doing math in her head.
“I know,” Ryann said, misinterpreting her expression. “Twins, y’know.”
Mariana exhaled a quick burst of breath and then shook her head as though incredulous. “Well, nice to meet you, Ryann,” she said. “And Spencer …” She let her voice trail off, turning, and walking away without another word.
“Old friend?” Ryann’s voice was flat.
“Yeah. She was …”
“Just … don’t,” she said, cutting him off. “Let’s go. Since you don’t want to be late.”
On the way over to her mother’s, she didn’t speak a single word. And Spencer couldn’t think of a thing to say to break the silence.
Once they were parked and walking up the stairs to her mother’s apartment, the mood between them was tense. The elevator was broken, so they had to climb up the entire way. When Spencer put a hand at the small of Ryann’s back on the very last flight when it was clear she was getting winded, she brushed it away. When they were standing outside her mother’s door, she took a few moments to catch her breath, then knocked, produced her own key, and unlocked it.
The apartment was small, and dark. It smelled like rose petals and stale air; a place that was clean, but without much human activity. Spencer took in the colorless furniture, the functionally-placed rugs and runners, and the large television that had pride of place in the living room.
And then, finally, he took in the woman standing in front of the coffee table. She had a smooth pecan complexion, a shade or two darker than Ryann’s, and the same light-colored eyes. And she was immense. Wearing a housedress that looked crisp and almost brand-new, Spencer realized she had prepared for his arrival. On her feet her slippers that looked like they were pressing painfully into her flesh.
“I put on some tea,” she said by way of greeting. “So good to meet you, Spencer.”
He went over to shake her hand, but instead she pulled him into a brief hug, smiling and looking genuinely pleased that he was there. When he stood back, she looked him over and smiled again, this time at Ryann.
“Very handsome,” she said. “Very handsome.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hi Mom,” Ryann’s voice sounded strained as she leaned in to kiss her mother hello. “You look good.”
“Oh no I don’t,” her mother said. “But nice of you to say so. What have you got there?” She indicated the bag Spencer was holding.
“A chocolate cake, ma’am. Ryann told me you enjoy desserts.”
“I do. Come. Let me take that, and get it ready with our tea.”
After she had shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen, Ryann exhaled and sat, indicating that Spencer should do the same. She perched on the edge of the sofa, like someone who wanted to be poised to run if the need should arise. Spencer sat next to her.
“One hour,” she said under her breath.
Spencer couldn’t figure it out. Ryann’s mother seemed perfectly fine. Like anyone else’s mother—warm, welcoming, and prone to fussing. It was Ryann who seemed uncomfortable, and determined to make everyone else uncomfortable.
She didn’t talk much, even when Spencer or her mother tried to draw her out. And she never settled into her seat, her posture making it clear she didn’t intend to stay very long. Her mother asked him about his parents, his upbringing, and his siblings. She was more than pleasant; she was … nice. But something between her and her daughter was wrong. They talked around each other, preferring to address Spencer. It reminded him of his mother and Joyce, and the way they both directed conversation to poor May, rather than engage with each other.
“Your sister having twins probably makes you less nervous about having your own, I would imagine.”
Spencer laughed politely. “No ma’am. Still very nervous. But happy as well.”
He touched Ryann’s stomach to punctuate the comment, and felt her stiffen under his touch. Her mother smiled, but her gaze darted away from where his hand made contact with her daughter, embarrassed.
“Mom,” Ryann spoke up. “I think I mentioned we weren’t going to stay for very long? Well …”
“Of course, of course. I know you probably have plans for a Sunday afternoon. And so close to the holidays.”
“But I’ll call you later this week,” Ryann said, making as though to stand.
“Yes. Have you spoken to your brother?”
Ryann stiffened further. Spencer felt it, unmistakable under his palm, still on her stomach.
“Yes,” she said, her voice tight.
“Every week, like clockwork,” Spencer added. “Sometimes more often than that.”
Ryann’s mother’s brows knitted and her eyes drifted toward Ryann. “Oh. I hadn’t realized it was quite so often as that.”
Her gaze lingered, and Spencer thought she looked … troubled. Not relieved, as he’d been expecting, as anyone might be, if their daughter was keeping in close touch with their son wh
o was incarcerated.
He recalled that Ryann said her mother was responsible for Rick being in prison. He had never asked how, or why. He couldn’t believe now that it hadn’t come up again. But now he was curious. Because of the Coalition, Spencer heard hundreds of prison stories—about how guys wound up there, how they’d served their time, and what it was like for them to come back home. He’d heard dozens of variations on the stories of families of the men as well; and some of them were like Ryann’s—a family member had turned the guy in. It wasn’t as unusual as people thought.
That was why he hadn’t revisited the subject with Ryann. But still, she hadn’t brought it up either, even though one would have thought that after one of the many calls with her brother, she would have said something. Alluded to it, even in passing.
“We really have to go, Mom.” Ryann stood abruptly.
“Yes. Alright.”
Her mother looked a little distracted. She stood as well, following Ryann’s lead. Spencer did the same.
“Ryann.”
Her mother’s voice stopped her when she was more than halfway to the front door. Spencer watched as she stood stock still but did not turn.
“Call me this week, would you? We should talk, you and I.”
“I’ll … yes,” Ryann said. “Okay. I will.”
“Spencer. It was so good to meet you.”
When he hugged Ryann’s Mom, he heard the front door being opened behind him. Ryann wasn’t kidding about wanting to get out of there.
“Good to meet you, too,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again, soon.”
“Yes.” She didn’t sound convinced. “You take care, Spencer. And …” Her voice broke a little. “Take care of my girl.”
“What was goin’ on there?”
Spencer waited until they were back at his place to ask her. Ryann headed up to the bedroom and peeled off her olive-green dress almost immediately, kicking aside her sandals, as if ridding herself of any reminder of the afternoon visit to her mother. Wearing only her harness-like maternity bra and large underwear that looked like restraints, she went to his closet, and found one of Spencer’s large t-shirts, shrugging it over her head.
“What’re you talking about?” she asked when she emerged.
“With you and your mother. It was weird.”
Ryann shrugged. “That’s my mother for you.”
“Except she wasn’t the one who was being weird.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Ryann planted her feet. “What are you asking me, Spencer?”
“Just what’s up with you and your mother.” He sat on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. “I got all amped up to go meet her and you wanted out of there the second we planted our butts on the sofa.”
“I told you I didn’t want to stay, so what’re you so surprised about?”
She was defensive. Which was probably expected since he knew she and her mother weren’t close. But even so, this felt excessive.
“Yeah, but she was fine. You were the one who …”
“That’s because you don’t know about our relationship,” Ryann practically spat out.
“Then tell me about it,” he said, keeping his voice level.
“Sure,” Ryann said. “Just as soon as you tell me about the relationship between you and Mariana.”
Boom.
Reading his face, Ryann tilted her head to one side. “Well?” she prompted.
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
“This isn’t changing the subject. You want disclosure, and I want some too. Who is Mariana? No … actually, that’s not right. What I want to know is, when was Mariana?”
“Okay. We can do that. Sit down, first. And quit lookin’ like you want to fight somebody.”
Ryann blinked twice, and after a moment’s consideration, sat on the bed as well, though strategically out of his reach. Spencer moved closer. He was ready for her. She was going to use this against him, one way or another. She was going to be livid, and use what he said as an excuse to put some distance between them. And to distract him from whatever it was that made her turn to a wax figure, stiff and emotionless in her mother’s presence.
“So,” she prompted. “Tell me.”
“I met her after the time you and me got together,” Spencer said. “After you kicked me out, remember?”
Ryann rolled her eyes.
“You called me about going to Tone’s movie. That was the night she was … when she was over.” He paused. “And then she came over one other time after that.”
“When was that?”
By the way she asked, Spencer knew she had already figured out the answer.
“When you were in Chicago,” he said slowly.
Ryann’s face transformed into a grim, bitter, humorless smile. She shook her head. “Was that before, or after you told me I should trust you?”
“We hadn’t made any commitments then. All we’d committed to was …”
“Making a baby. Yeah. That’s all we’d committed to back then.” Her voice was still sardonic, but her hand fell to her stomach at the mention of the baby plan.
Spencer wanted to touch her there as well. Back then, a baby had been an abstraction. Now, he knew his babies. He felt them, squirming around inside Ryann when she slept, and his arms were wrapped around her. He listened to their heartbeats with that expensive contraption he’d bought online. And he often stared at their first picture; the amorphous collection of grey and white blobs printed on the smooth paper from the ultrasound machine.
“I’m not making an excuse. I’m just sayin’ …”
“That you were entitled to fuck her?”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
Ryann’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie.”
Spencer shook his head. “I ran into her in Whole Foods. I invited her over to cook for me. I … I wasn’t thinking about what would happen after. I was …”
“Sure you weren’t. You invited that woman over and had no idea? None whatsoever what would happen? Y’know what Spencer …?” Ryann stood.
“Nah,” he said, standing as well. “You’re not doin’ that. You wanted to know, so you gon’ listen.”
Breathing out of her nose, her chest rising and falling, Ryann sat, and pursed her lips.
“She cooked for me. We ate. We had some wine. A lot of wine. And then she made a move, and we were on the couch, and kissing and … I was going to …We were right there, and I stopped it.”
“When did you stop?” Ryann demanded. “When your dick was inside her, or before?”
Trust her not to mince words. So, he wouldn’t either.
“If my dick was inside her, you think I would’ve been able to stop?”
Suddenly, Ryann was up and swatting wildly at him, raining blows on his chest and arms. Spencer moved backwards, absorbing it all until she finally exhausted herself. Her face was crimson, her eyes tear-filled and her nose pink, nostrils flared. They stood in the center of the room, staring at each other.
“I asked her to leave,” Spencer said, rushing to get the words out before she flipped out on him again. “She was embarrassed, I felt like shit … and that was it. That was what happened. And I never spoke to her again after that. Not until today.”
“That was an eventful weekend for us both then,” Ryann said, wiping her nose. “Because I had a little action in Chicago as well. Except … I didn’t stop.” She looked up at him, her mouth trembling.
Spencer bit down on his lower lip. He tasted a sharp, coppery taste in his mouth, and his fists balled involuntarily at his sides. His chest heaved and what felt like all the blood in his body rose to his head. “What?”
“You heard me,” Ryann said staring at him, her eyes cold. “When I was in Chicago …”
Turning, he punched the closest thing to him. The bedside lamp crashed against the wall and splintered, the shade ripping as he wrenched his fist free of it.
In the center of the bedroom, Ryann watched him,
her expression impassive.
“You fucked …”
“Yes. I did,” she said, her voice lifeless. Reaching for her discarded dress, she picked it up. “So … maybe you should have gone ahead and slipped it to Mariana after all.”
~27~
“Brittainy!”
This time it didn’t take her assistant very long to materialize. Ryann looked up wearily, grabbing her pocketbook and pushing herself to a standing position.
“I’m going to that appointment in Deanwood. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Brittainy frowned. “You want me to come with you?”
“No. Don’t be stupid. It’ll be fine. I’m just running in to get some quick information and they’re expecting me, so …”
“Things be jumpin’ off quick over there, Miss Walker. I don’t know …”
“I’m no stranger to bad neighborhoods, believe me. I think I can tell when something’s about to … jump off.”
“But, it ain’t like you can run or nothin’.” She looked down at Ryann’s middle. “You sure you want to …?”
“Goodnight, Brittainy.” She cut her off, and then hearing how abrupt she sounded, softened her tone. “Thanks for the concern. But I know what I’m doing and don’t plan to be there for long. And if I took you with me, I’d have to drop you off and it’s already been a long day. So …”
“You wouldn’t have to take me home,” Brittainy tried again. “You could just drop me off at the Deanwood Metro, Miss Walker.”
Ryann laughed. “Oh so it’s safe for you? No. Thank you though. Goodnight.”
Even the short walk to the garage felt like a test of will. Ryann wished she had exercised some good common-sense and rescheduled the Deanwood appointment for the light of day. Brittainy was right. It was one of the least safe places in the city, and she hadn’t been thinking about driving over there and parking her flashy luxury car. While she wasn’t worried about her personal safety, she didn’t feel quite as confident about the safety of her vehicle if parked unattended.
The Lover Page 27