“Let me guess. You’ve been holed up in your apartment, staying away from your friends so they can’t see you get upset?”
I shake my head. “Do you have a camera in here watching me or something?”
Emily chuckles. “I told you, Ryan, Iknowyou. You didn’t ask for my advice, but I think you should at least go for a walk. Try and get out of your head.”
“Okay,” I sniff.
“If you want to talk, I’m here. I know I’m not your real mom?—”
“No,” I say roughly. “Stop. You’ve been more of a parent to me than Dad ever was. I might not call you it, but—you are.”
“Oh, darling.” Now Emily sounds like she’s been crying, too.
I swallow. “Look, Pippa’s probably done with me for good. It’s not like I ever deserved her anyway. But if she’s not—I want you to know that I respect your opinion, and I respect you. If you want me to stay away from your daughter, I will. But I love her, and I’d never hurt her.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” In the background I can hear Emily blow her nose. “I should go clean up those tomatoes now, but I love you, Ryan.”
“Bye, Emily.”
I hang up and run my fingers through my hair one more time. It’s time for me to take Emily’s advice and leave this apartment, before I go down and take that whiskey bottle with me.
41
PIPPA
Inever gave back Ryan’s key card when I moved out. Which is especially convenient now, as I press the elevator button for his apartment. My palms are sweating, and I wipe them on my pants.
“You don’t have anything to be nervous about,” I mutter to myself. “You know how he feels about you, and you know how you feel about him. This is a formality.”
Except it doesn’t feel like that—not at all. I might have written how much I love Ryan, but that’s completely different from saying it to his face. A Word document won’t answer you, no matter how much you type into it.
A human being, on the other hand, can give you an answer that shatters your heart into pieces.
In the shiny elevator door, I examine my blurred reflection. My lipstick is a bloody streak, my hair a stormcloud. Then the doors slide open to Ryan’s apartment, the last physical barrier between us finally gone.
“Ryan?” I call out, my voice shakier than I want it to be. “Ryan, we need to talk.”
Nobody answers. No lights are on, and the furniture forms dark shadows in the skylit rooms. I flip on a light switch, illuminating an empty and suspiciously spotless apartment. Ryan’s apartment has never been this clean for longer than fifteen minutes. It’s like he can’t stand a space without an element of chaos—he has to take off his socks and throw them on the floor, or empty out the fridge to make one of his disgusting smoothies.
Now, the apartment looks like it hasn't been touched since I snuck out of it. On a hunch, I head to the kitchen and check the trash can. It’s empty, save for a garbage bag. There are no energy drink cans in the recycling bin, either. Has Ryan even come home? A small, dark pit forms in the bottom of my stomach.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot him a text.
Pippa
Are you close to home? We need to talk.
There’s no answer. That’s not too surprising—he could be at a tournament, or at a movie, or busy working out with the guys. But right now, I’m not patient enough to wait. After a moment, I text Cat instead.
Pippa
Hey, have you seen Ryan around?
Cat
No, why?
Pippa
