In the backseat, Cameron rocked faster.
I looked down at the time on the dashboard. It was eight o’clock. His classes started at eight fifteen, his normal routine was getting to school by seven thirty. I screwed up by drinking and not hearing my cell phone alarm. God only knew where my cell phone was at that moment.
I pulled out quickly and drove like the devil himself was in the trunk. As soon as I was on the boulevard, Cameron seemed to calm down a smidge. I drove even faster, praying nobody pulled me over.
When I drove up to the school with one minute to spare he jumped out before I totally stopped, stumbled twice, straightened, and rushed inside.
Idling in the drop off lane, surrounded by all the other late hysterical parents, I sobbed.
It took me twenty-five minutes to drive back to Ryan’s at a normal, legal speed and a few more to drag my ice cold feet across the sidewalk and back up the stairs to his apartment.
Inside was warm and quiet; Ryan was still asleep.
Unzipping my coat, it melted off me and dropped to the floor. I stepped over it on burning painful toes and ran for the shower. I needed warmth poured all over my body. I would have preferred a creamy thick oatmeal bath, but I didn’t think Ryan would have any of that bottled up just laying around.
I walked through his apartment as if in slow motion, a heavy stupor fogging my thoughts. It wasn’t until I was standing in the shower—steam rising up around me—water practically scolding my skin—did I finally feel warm enough. Little by little, my muscles relaxed, and I resolved in myself what my next steps were. After I stumbled out, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror while raking a comb through the tangled knots of my hair, wondering what I could be if not a cop.
My reflection offered me no answers, so I tiptoed into the living room where I’d left my bag.
Rummaging through my clothes, I realized there was nothing clean left. I was so upset when I packed my bag I hadn’t thought about anything I really needed.It didn’t matter. After breakfast and a polite friendly thank you, I was heading back to my place to clean and be alone. Probably, pathetically forever, where I could sit and wonder what the hell I did to deserve this shitty crap that kept happening to me. Ryan would tell me it was my bad choices and lack of respect for myself, and the messed up part was that he’d be right.
Ryan would have been a good choice, not someone like Harris who called me hot and hid me for months. Jumping into a relationship with someone without even asking if they were married was not a good choice. It was a mistake I would never make again. And if I were really honest, I would probably say I knew something was wrong in my gut. I knew it wasn’t right—all the hiding and sex only on job time, but I chose to ignore my instincts. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. Ever.
Would I ever get my happy ending?
I’ve been watching everyone else have them. Where was mine?
Maybe a happy ending for me didn’t include a guy. Maybe it’s just me, strong enough to be on my own, picking up the shattered pieces of my heart and starting over, stronger and better than before. Maybe a happy ending is really just being happy with yourself, and living your life with your head held high.
Near the couch was Ryan’s laundry bag of clean clothes he never had the chance to put away yesterday. Probably because of my stupid drunk antics. I cringed thinking he actually cleaned up my vomit. I pulled out a shirt, one of Cameron’s small ones, and a pair of Ryan’s boxer briefs and slipped them on quickly. I looked like an idiot, but it beat standing in the middle of the living room butt-ass naked as the day I was born.
I opened the refrigerator, scanning the contents. There were eggs, milk, juice, bacon, cheeses, deli meats, two different kinds of bread, and fresh fruit. For a bachelor, he took really good care of himself. My kitchen was always empty—save for the half empty cartons of Chinese food you’d find in the back of the fridge, a ton of empty pizza boxes, and a few bottles of wine. I felt my lips twist into a frown. I wanted to adult like this, compare this place to mine, and I wasn’t adulting at all.
I was scrambling the eggs and pancake batter was bubbling on the stove, when Ryan stumbled out into the kitchen and burst out laughing.
“What?” I asked, dropping the spoon and folding my arms over my chest. “I had nothing clean, and Cam’s shirt is the first thing I grabbed. I didn’t want you coming out here with me just in a towel.Again.”
A ghost of a smile slipped over his lips. “You have pancake batter on your nose.”
“What? Oh, really?” I said, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at my nose.
“Forehead too,” he chuckled, with a smirk.
I let out a loud huff and swiped a towel across my forehead. He was right, of course, there was pancake batter all over my stupid face. I threw the towel down, furiously. “Stop looking at me and laughing, okay?” I turned around and flipped the pancake over with one of his spatulas and half missed the pan. The perfectly cooked pancake was wilting over the side of the frying pan, sizzling in the flames. “Son of a bitch!” I growled as hot pancake batter splashed up onto my face and neck.
“Brooke—”
I slammed the spatula against the counter. More batter flew through the air. Squeezing my fists tight, I spun around to face him. “I’m really, really very sorry about last night, Ryan.” His eyes squinted at me, lit with some stupid twinkle of laughter, and a loud snort escaped from the corner of his snarky mouth. I felt the flush of my cheeks and the sweat beading up across my forehead and just above my lip.
My chest caved, and I pulled at the collar of Cameron’s too tight shirt. I tightened my lips and straightened my spine, which only caused Ryan’s too big boxer briefs to slide a little over the curve of my hips. I yanked them up with a hand on each side until they stayed. “I can’t even begin to tell you how mortified I am about getting sick in front of you last night and having to have you take care of me. I…I…took Cameron to school, and I made breakfast to, you know, to thank you for everything you’ve done.” I scratched at my chin, which was becoming increasing hot, along with my face, neck, and ears.
“I think you are a very nice person, and really, I thank you for everything. And after I most likely burn the shit out of breakfast I will be out of your hair and back to taking care of myself. Just…from now on, I’ll do better.”
“Really?” he asked, with a glint in his eyes.
“You are infuriating,” I blurted.
“That’s a great compliment, thanks,” he said, taking a step forward and leaning against the counter.
