“What?” he asked in his irritated, short tone.
“After all of this, I can’t have you mad at me too,” I told him, my words were more of a plea.
“I’ve…” he stammered. “I’ve got to go,” he informed grimly.
“Ryan?” I breathed out.
“I need some time to think,” he replied coldly.
His gears that were once so easy for me to switch suddenly felt stiff, unmoving under my influence.
“Okay,” I whispered as the burn of heartbreak slipped up my throat.
I slumped down into my chair at the big, round table. My friends all looked at me, confused as to why I was suddenly falling apart again after speaking to Ryan.
Marie’s perplexed glare turned to anger. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and I knew just by her expression that she was planning on calling Ryan and reading him the riot act.
“Don’t,” I protested, wiping my eyes on a Mitchell’s napkin.
My heart cracked wider when two whole days passed and I still had not talked to Ryan. I didn’t call him either; part of me was deathly afraid to have my worst fear validated. Denial was a safer option, safer than the truth. Other than the two and a half days I spent in the pit of darkness after returning from Florida, this was the longest we had ever gone without speaking.
Ryan did manage to send me a text message, but it was short. I knew he was still in Miami filming the last scenes of Thousand Miles and that they were attempting to wrap filming this week. He was working fifteen-hour days. I could only imagine how uncomfortable things must be for him to film with Lauren… to pretend, to act in front of the cameras that he was in love with this woman who so insidiously tried to destroy our relationship.
The devastation from my disastrous trip to Florida lingered in my heart and every day it became more and more unbearable. I continued to beat myself up every spare moment I had for being foolish and gullible and for doubting Ryan’s faithfulness. Had I scarred him so deeply that forgiveness was no longer an option?
Part of me couldn’t blame Ryan for being angry with me, after all, how could our relationship survive if I didn’t show him I could trust him?
But there were moments when he questioned my faithfulness too, so why should I feel solely responsible for the current state of misery I was existing in?
And what about that leggy bitch down in Florida who still gets to enjoy Ryan’s lips on hers? Did Lauren have an ounce of remorse in her fakebreasted soul?
Tears slipped from my eyes as I tapped a pitcher of beer for a waiting customer. I thought about all the problems Ryan was dealing with – the troubles with Suzanne, and David, and the studio people, and Lauren, and Kyle, and losing an unborn baby… all these things that caused him pain had one common denominator – me.
“Taryn?” Marie reached for me, questioning my sadness.
I set the pitcher down on the bar and waved my hand to dismiss her attempt to console me.
I couldn’t do this anymore to him… or me.
Tammy stopped me as I hurried through the kitchen, grabbing me by the arm before I got through my door. My key was still stuck in the doorknob. She wrapped me in a tender hug as the magnitude of my overwhelming grief reached its final peak and crashed down on me.
My knees buckled and I dropped to the floor, covering my face with my hands.
There was only one option left for me… I had to let Ryan go.
Chapter 36 – What do you say?
I watched Marie out of the corner of my eye as she answered her cell phone again while making a mixed drink for a waiting customer. Gary had been calling her at work these last few days, which was very out of character for him. Gary was never much of a talker, so I was surprised at how often he called.
I gathered through the bits and pieces of conversation that they were making plans for a family get-together; it sounded like several people were flying in from out of town. Marie seemed stressed, often getting angry with him when they spoke. She would become testy and then run off to the kitchen to yell at him in private.
I didn’t ask what the problems were nor did I pay any particular attention to her personal business. The part of my soul that died last Thursday on a plane back from Florida just didn’t care much about anything lately.
Ryan finally called me Friday morning, but our conversation was awkward, like he called me just to be nice. I wasn’t sure by the tone of his words if we were headed for the official breakup or if he called me just because he felt he had to. It didn’t help my emotional stability that we only talked about how busy he was.
“No! It’s just not a good time right now,” he had stuttered strangely into the phone when I offered to get on a plane and fly to see him.