“Hmm,” I hum, glancing down at my black tank and boy-cut underwear I’m wearing. Shrugging, I say, “I think clothes are overrated.”
Facing him, I sit down cross-legged. He quirks one side of his mouth and tosses a cream-coloured fleece throw at me.
Chuckling, I cover my lap. “Better?”
“Marginally. You’re always a welcome distraction, but if I’m going to get through this, I need you covered up a bit.”
Leaning back on the couch, he stares at the flicker of flames in the fireplace. A moment passes before he rolls his head on the cushion and meets my eyes.
“I don’t talk about this very often. Nobody locally knows, not even Carson, and I would like to keep it that way. The last person I discussed it with was my therapist.”
Tilting my head, I ask, “You see a therapist?”
“Yeah. I check in once a month. I’ve been seeing the same one for years.” He pauses and looks at me pointedly. “That reminds me. Have you made an appointment with your new counsellor yet?”
“No,” I mumble. When he raises his eyebrow, I roll my eyes. “I will, okay? Soon.”
I think about what he says about nobody else knowing. Everything between us is so new. I don’t want him to feel pressured into confiding in me.
“You don’t have to tell me; it’s really none of my business. I’m just being nosey,” I ramble.
“No, I want to tell you.” He sits up straighter and places his hand over mine. “Remember, this all happened a long time ago. A lot has changed since then.”
When I nod my head in agreement, he continues.
“As Vaughan overshared when we were at The Riff, we spent a lot of our teenage years causing havoc, getting into trouble, and partying. After high school, we applied to the same university, and they accepted both of us. In retrospect, I’m sure my father had to pull strings for me to get in.” He scratches his eyebrow before continuing.
“Vaughan’s family had very high expectations, so he buckled down and took his classes seriously. I did not. Three or four times a week—maybe more—I would be out at the bar or attending a party. I rarely went to class or handed in assignments. By the end of the first year, I was kicked out.”
“That sounds nothing like you.” I’m having a difficult time imagining this serious, successful man as the wild child he’s describing.
“But it was,” he says, emotion thick in his voice. “I didn’t care about school—that was just the place all my friends were. My parents paid for my apartment. I had a generous allowance and a Visa with no limit. Given my track record, my parents expected little of me. At some point, they would have stuck me in a token position within my father’s company for appearances’ sake and pray I didn’t embarrass them more than I already had.”
I suspected Ryan’s family was wealthy from the bits and pieces he’s shared as we’ve gotten to know each other better. Boarding school. Nannies. Cottage. But unlimited access to money as a twenty-year-old still catches me off guard. I can’t help but wonder what kind of parents hand over that muchfreedom without setting some limits. Was the money meant to fill their absence in his life?
“Did you and Vaughan continue to live with each other after boarding school?”
“No, we were getting sick of each other by then.” He chuckles. “He had his own place not too far away. But Lily lived with me—unofficially.” His entire chest rises as he takes a large breath.
I remain still, waiting for him to continue. I’ve been curious about his mysterious Lily since the first time I heard her name.
“We knew each other since we were children and started seeing each other in our senior year of high school. A real good girl, bad boy situation. I had way too much fun trying to corrupt her. We planned to move in together right away, but her parents forbade it. They wanted better for their only daughter, and I don’t blame them. They got her an apartment with a couple of roommates, but she spent most nights at mine, anyway.”
While he’s been talking, he has absentmindedly begun tracing the lines of my tattoos with his fingertips up and down my arm. I have questions, but I don’t want to interrupt him.
“Lily was so smart. Straight A student. Unlike me, she rarely missed a class or a lecture. An amazing artist. Always doodling. Loved poetry. Like Vaughan, she was growing out of the party scene by the time we hit university—more focused on her future. She would come out with me occasionally on the weekend but was just as happy staying home. This went on for three years. While she was busy with school and her internship, I was hanging out with friends and acting like I always had. She was getting sick of my bullshit and was patiently waiting for me to grow up. She loved me,” he says sadly. “But I didn’t love her enough to change.”
I can hear how he is talking about her in the past tense. Their breakup must have been brutal.
He lowers his head and takes several deep breaths before meeting my eyes again.
“She graduated with a master’s in journalism and had landed her dream job. Her parents threw her a party to celebrate. She hadn’t been feeling great for several days but didn’t want to disappoint them, so we went. Of course, I drank more than I should have and embarrassed her in front of her family. I can’t remember exactly what I did, but she was angry. Livid.”
He surprises me when he stands abruptly and cups both his hands over his nose and mouth. After closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself, he drops his hands by his sides and says, “I need a drink of water. Do you want one?” He rushes to the fridge and grabs two bottles, before I have a chance to answer. Opening one, he quickly drinks down half before securing the lid and returning to the couch. Sinking back down beside me, he hands me my bottle, and I place it unopened on my lap. I’ve never seen him this agitated before. I don’t know what to do or say, so I thread my fingers through his and wait for him to continue.
“When we got back to my apartment that night, we had the biggest fight we had ever had. I said a lot of things I regret. She told me that if I didn’t get my act together, it was over. I didn’t believe her. I left the apartment angry. How dare she give me an ultimatum and try to control me?”
He releases my hand to open his bottle of water and finishes it in a few large gulps before he speaks again.
