by Untamed
He looked puzzled and leaned forward. “Go ahead.”
“Ever since Ryan saw me at your house, things have been bad between us. He gave me the complete silent treatment for an entire week.”
“I’m not surprised. Ryan is a grudge holder.”
“But against me, though? For heaven’s sake, I’m his wife.”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir.”
“Well, anyway, after a week, I simply couldn’t take it. I forced him to talk to me about three days ago. Only, he went into an unbelievable tirade that ended up with him saying something totally offensive to me. As a matter of fact, he called me a jump off, or rather he said that he’s been straight with me during our entire marriage, and the only time he cheated on me was when I was nothing more to him than a jump off.”
“Whoa,” Lincoln said before his mouth fell agape. He grabbed my hands. “Are you okay? What did you say?”
“I was hurt. I’m still hurting over it. I didn’t say much to him, but I did sucker punch the shit outta him.”
“As you should’ve. Damn, I would’ve paid good money to see that.”
Just then, my cell phone rang. I looked down at it. Ryan. I pressed the END button and pushed my hair behind my ear. “Anyway.”
“Did you need to answer that?” Lincoln asked.
“No. It was only Ryan. I don’t answer his calls. It’s ironic, because now I’m the one who is doing the ignoring.”
“Wait. In the meeting, he kept going on and on about how you all were doing great and how everything was lovely at the Westmore residence.”
“We are so far from that right now. I guess he was just frontin’ for you.”
He drank more of his espresso. “I guess so. So I hate to ask, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that his reactions are extreme. I understand that, for obvious reasons, he doesn’t care for us to be around each other. However, he reacts as if I’m not his wife, as if he’s still fighting for me or something. You both know that I am very loyal. I can understand him being angry at first and even needing some time to calm down from the situation, but a week? And then to explode on me like that was just insane. I feel like there’s more to it—”
The shrill ring of my cell phone interrupted my statement. Ryan again. I pressed the END button again.
I went on. “There has to be more to this situation between you and Ryan other than beefing over me. I was wondering what it was, so that maybe we could resolve it and move on. We have to coexist for the next few years, and I’d rather coexist in peace.”
Lincoln looked shocked and sat there for a moment. I guess he was stunned by what I’d said to him.
Then my phone rang again. Ryan again.
“Hold on for a second,” I said, putting up my finger. I answered the call. “What?”
“Can I please get you to come home?” Ryan asked.
“I’m out shopping.”
“Well, it’s a bit of an emergency.”
“Emergency?” I repeated, hopping up instantly. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Please, calm down. I just need you to get home as fast as possible.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up and then frantically grabbed my belongings.
“What’s going on, Charice?” Lincoln asked, alarm evident in his voice.
“I’ve gotta go. There’s some type of emergency. Ryan won’t say what. I’m so sorry.”
His hand on my forearm prevented me from walking away from him. “Wait. You don’t want to know what the deal is?” Lincoln asked.
I lifted regretful eyes to his and patted his hand, indicating that I needed to head out. “I do, but right now, I have to go. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I am not the one for emergencies ever since Charity. I’ll call you so we can finish this conversation another day.”
I was about to walk off when Lincoln stood and grabbed my hand. He turned me around to face him and stared into my eyes. “I hope everything is okay. Call me if you need me. I mean that,” he said, genuinely concerned.
He was so sincere. I placed the palm of my hand on his cheek and rubbed his goatee with my thumb as I looked him in his eyes. “You’re sweet. Thank you. I will, but I have to go.” With that, I pulled my hand away and dashed out of Starbucks.
My heart beat a mile a minute as I raced all the way back home, praying like hell my family was okay. I wanted to call Ryan back, but if he told me something terrible over the phone, I’d probably crash, so I sweated bullets and dodged police and traffic all the way back to the house. No sooner had the garage door come down than I jumped out of the car and ran into the house.
“Ryan,” I yelled from the mudroom. Silence. After exiting the mudroom, I ran frantically down the long hallway and into the kitchen. “Ryan!”
He appeared suddenly, and I ran smack into him.
“Whoa! Baby, where is the fire?” he said.
Filled with panic, I shot off questions with the force of a tommy gun. “What’s going on? Where are the boys? Where’s Lexi? Where’s Johanna? Is it my parents? Your parents? The kids at the center?”
Taking note of my heightened anxiety, Ryan held me close, and my head fell into his chest. I was so upset, I was shaking. “Baby, calm down. It’s none of them. I guess I shouldn’t have used the word ‘emergency.’ I should’ve said that it was important. That is my bad. I’m so sorry.”
I lifted my head up, tears in my eyes. “You mean to tell me that I nearly had a heart attack, cursed out five drivers, and ran one red light, two caution lights, and three stop signs just to get here and have you tell me that this is just important?”
He looked at me apologetically and nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”
Angrily, I pushed him in the chest. “I should beat the living shit out of you. Don’t do that to me. Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was?”
He held my hands against my will, forcing me to focus on him. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. Can you forgive me?” he said, giving me those damn puppy dog eyes.
Damn those eyes. Not this time. Folding my arms across my chest, I scoffed, “Those only work on the boys.”
He stood back and looked me up and down. “You look. . . you look . . . very nice. Not that you ever look bad, but you are so well put together today for a weekday. No jeans and stilettos. Not to mention you smell so damn good. You have on Euphoria. You usually wear that for special occasions,” he said, circling me. He kissed me on the neck from behind. “You are really fancy for shopping.”
Shit. Even he had noticed. I had to downplay my appearance. I didn’t need his intuitive ass putting shit together in his mind. That was why we were in the predicament we were in now.
“There’s nothing wrong with making myself feel better, given how I’ve been feeling lately. And now you’ve stopped me from doing the one thing that was lifting my spirits.” So what if I threw my style preference for today on his behavior? He’d done worse. I hid my expression behind my hand as I rubbed my forehead. “What the hell is this about, Ryan? What is so important?”
Letting the thoughts behind my ensemble go, he kissed me on the lips and then lightly grabbed my hand. “Come with me,” he said, and then he led me into the dining room.
Right beside the big dining table was a smaller table, set for two. It was adorned with a white linen tablecloth, two wineglasses, a bucket of Moscato on ice, two place mats covered with fine china, and two lit candles.
“What is this?” I asked, a bit confused.
Ryan stepped over to the table for two, then spread his arms as if presenting a prize. “This is lunch for two at the Westmore Café,” he said and walked back in front of me. “I know that I messed up, but I want to make it right this time.”
“Where are Lexi and Johanna?”
“Lexi is with Johanna, who is taking a two-hour lunch break at the mall.” He reached for my hand and pulled me close to him. “And I am not training today, so that I can
have lunch at the Westmore Café with my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, loving, and stunningly sexy wife,” he continued, moving his hands to hold my face in the palms of his hands. “I love you, Ricey, and I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been acting lately. Most of all, I’m sorry for alluding to the fact that you have ever meant less to me than being a wonderful woman who is the mother of my children.”
My eyes misted, and even though he had touched me, it was hard for me to forgive him. What he didn’t understand was that even when I had refused to be back in a relationship with him after Iris, his ex-girlfriend, dumped him and publicly humiliated him, I had always held on to the fact that he cared about me. He’d cared even when I was with Lincoln. I knew there was a time when he hadn’t loved me, but I had always felt like he cared. But knowing that at one point in his life, he had thought of me as only a jump off had made me question everything else. Jump offs didn’t become marriage material to any man unless he was trapped or was trying to appease his ego. Well, even though we had three children together, he had refused to be held down by me or them, so the only reason was to appease his ego. Was I only a ploy to say he’d won over Lincoln?
He kissed my tears as they began to fall. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Still reeling from his words and my internal struggle, I pushed away from him. “Don’t. I know how you really feel about me, Ryan. Jump offs don’t become wifeys.” I held up my ring finger. “The only thing this symbolizes is that you beat Lincoln, and if that’s the case . . .” I pulled off the ring and threw it to him. “You can have it. I’m done,” I said, then stalked out of the dining room, with Ryan right on my heels.
He ran in front of me, halting my steps. “No, baby, I messed up. I was angry, and I was saying shit that I shouldn’t have said. You’re my wife—my wife, Ricey—and I love you with my soul. I don’t feel that you’re a jump off, and I never have.” His emotions started to take over, and his eyes misted. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”
After closing the space between us, he leaned his forehead against mine, and we stood there for what seemed like forever. My heart was so vulnerable to Ryan—hell, it always had been—but my mind was undecided. Husbands shouldn’t treat their wives the way that Ryan had treated me. Still, he was my husband. That had to mean something. He wouldn’t honestly marry me if I didn’t mean something to him. I didn’t know if that was true, but what I did know was that I loved Ryan. I loved my life—our life. I wanted our marriage to be better than the mockery we were making of it, and I wanted it to last. I could admit that because of his angry outburst, I didn’t fully trust him, but I loved him enough to forgive him. I was his wife.
Choosing forgiveness, I looked up into his eyes. “If you ever disrespect me again, whether it’s about your past, present, or future, I will not be putting that ring back on. That I mean.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
I nodded in return. “Good.”
“So can you put the ring back on now?” he asked, giving me those damn puppy dog eyes again.
Those eyes made me blush despite myself. “No, but you can.” I held out my hand.
Gently holding my hand, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead before he uttered, “Proudly.” He slipped the ring on my finger and, for good measure, added, “With this ring, I thee wed. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Our impromptu vow renewal was sealed with a long and succulent kiss. Then for a long while we stood there, engulfed in each other’s arms, as if time stood still. It felt good to be back in this familiar space with Ryan. When we were bad, we were bad, but when we were good, we were the best. No one had the ability to send me on a love high like Ryan, but likewise, no one had the ability to carry me through the pits of hell like him, either. We needed a middle ground because this topsy-turvy highest of highs and lowest of lows could not go on forever. We wouldn’t survive that. We couldn’t. But for now, we were high, and I wanted to relish the moment.
After kissing the side of my head, he whispered in my ear, “It’s been, like, a month. Can we please skip the food? I really need to handle some other business.”
“No, wait on it.” I giggled.
Although he pouted, he gave in to my request to wait. We walked back into the dining room hand in hand to partake of this lovely meal. He pulled out my chair for me to sit down, then moved to the other side of the table and opened the bottle of Moscato. Once he’d poured some into both glasses, he sat across from me and raised his glass.
“Let’s make a toast,” he said. I raised my glass as well. “To our future as husband and wife.”
“Hear! Hear!” I exclaimed.
We touched glasses and sipped.
“I have one more toast to make,” he said, so I raised my glass again. “To my lovely wife, who is so graciously forgiving and forever loving me and my intolerable ways. It gives me great honor to help make her dreams come true, just as she has done for me.”
I looked at him, puzzled. “Ryan, what are you talking about?”
He smiled, pulled some paperwork out from under his place setting, and handed it to me. “You, my dear, are the proud owner of your own state-of-the-art dance studio.”
I placed my wineglass down, and I flipped hurriedly through the paperwork. He was right. It was an outline of how I envisioned my studio, complete with contracts, the closing papers—everything. “Oh my . . . oh God . . . oh my God,” I screamed. “Ryan, how did you? When did you?”
“It’s been in the works for a while.” He shrugged. “I wanted to make you happy, just like you’ve made me so happy.”
My soul opened up. I couldn’t believe he’d done this for me. My lifetime goal was in the palm of my hand, and it was mine. Mine. I was in complete and utter shock. My husband—he did love me.
“Look over everything, and if you want to change—”
I jumped up from the table, rushed around it, and hugged him. “It’s perfect,” I declared, holding him tightly. “Thank you, baby. I love you so much.”
“Always?”
“Forever,” I reassured him, and then I kissed him passionately.
My kisses moved from his lips to his ear, then down to his neck, and I began unbuttoning his dress shirt. I was on fire for him, and I couldn’t wait. Damn that food.
“I thought I had to wait on it.” He breathed heavily.
I lifted my dress over my head and slid my thong off. “Are you still waiting?”
Ryan lifted me up and put me on the big dining room table. “Hell no. I have a seven-course meal to eat.”
In a matter of moments, his pants were off, and my legs were in the V position and dangling over his powerful biceps as I moaned in falsetto. He filled me up to the hilt. His girth was so massive that it damn near hurt, but I knew it was due to the length of time that had passed. Taking me right there on the table had to be one of the sexiest and most memorable moments we’d ever had, but what made it more memorable was Ryan repeating over and over again that he loved me as I came again and again. Once he climaxed, he actually cried.
“Baby,” I said, softly wiping his tears.
“I thought I’d lost you, Ricey. I thought I’d lost you,” he said in a tear-strained voice. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
He rose and helped me off the table, and then he gathered our things and blew out the candles. “I guess we better shower and get dressed,” he said.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I shook my head. “No, sir. I’m calling Johanna and asking her to tack on another hour. I refuse to be a jump off, but I can be your freak all day.”
Ryan damn near dropped his cell phone while trying hurriedly to dial Johanna his damn self. When she picked up, he pleaded, “Please stay gone another hour, Johanna. Please.” I could hear her laughing into the phone.
Once he hung up, I wagged my forefinger in a “Come hither” motion so that he would follow me up the stairs. “Can I be your littl
e freak today, Mr. Westmore?”
“Shit, every day,” he said as we ran up the stairs.
Chapter 6
LaMeka
“Hey, you,” I said when I answered the phone for Charice. “Long time no hear.”
“I know. I’ve been horrible these past few months, but shit up here has been fucking crazy, girl. I have so much to tell you. You wouldn’t even believe it.”
“Yeah, I know a little. I ran into your mom at the grocery store last week. But that makes two of us. I have so much shit to tell you. But first, you.” I paused before I asked my question. “So Lincoln is in the NY, huh?”
Her groan was immediate. “Yes, girl.”
“Damn. So does he know about Lexi?”
“No, I haven’t told him.”
“I don’t think that you and Ryan should—”
“Please let’s keep this on a good note,” she interrupted. “This is my first time being able to speak to you in three months. Let’s keep it judgment free.”
I loved my bestie, but when it came to doses of reality, it was like trying to force-feed a toddler medication. “Fine, Charice. So tell me, what is up?”
She went into the entire story, from Lincoln and London to her marital troubles, all the way up to the dance studio.
“Wow. There is a lot going on up there in the NY. So let me ask you this, are you still going to meet up with Lincoln to find out what the rift was about?” I said when she finished.
She hummed, as if she were in deep contemplation. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been three days, and everything is so smooth right now. Not to mention Ryan is going above and beyond to prove that he wants this marriage to work.” She paused for a moment. “I know I am definitely gettin’ my back broke,” she said around a fit of giggles.
“Damn. Come through, Mr. Westmore. It’s like that?”
“Girl, on the dining room table, on top of the washing machine, in the theater room, in the tub, and in his SUV. Not to mention in the bed. I am so sleepy from these past three days. It is unreal.”
“Okay, TMI. Just remind me to eat my food in the breakfast room when I visit. Nasty asses,” I joked. “Wait . . . on top of the washing machine?”