Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 19

ELLA

I’m completely caught off guard when my headlights flash across Ry’s body as he sits on the small front stoop of my house. Well, the small front stoop of the Children’s Wing, I mean. He quickly stands, pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. My heart jumps in my chest and nerves tickle the back of my throat. I wish my physical attraction to him would fizzle out, go away.

But it doesn’t.

He’s wearing jeans and a button-up blue checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The cold snap finally broke so he doesn’t need a jacket. Which sucks. Because his forearms are sexy enough to drive me to the edge of madness. The gray baseball cap on his head shadows his face in danger and seduction.

I climb out of the car and grab my work bag, purse, and overnight bag from the back seat. He rushes to my side when he sees the load I’m trying to carry.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

He slips the overnight duffle and work bag from my shoulder. I don’t argue; I know it’s a moot point to protest his chivalry.

I changed into flats before the drive back to town, so he towers over me, reminding me of his power and strength. I always loved it when he picked me up. When I wrapped my legs around his waist. When I—

“No hello?”

I snort, walking ahead of him. “Hello. Now, what are you doing here?”

“You didn’t tell me you were going out of town.”

I dig in my purse for my house key. “I told you I wouldn’t be going to the station yesterday.”

“True, but you didn’t tell me you would be in a completely different state.”

“I didn’t realize I had to clear my schedule with you, Detective.” The door swings open, and I lean in, dropping my purse on the floor. I refuse to invite him inside. The last time he was in my house—in the Children’s Wing—we were happy, we were together. Seeing him in these familiar surroundings would undo me. I spin around, holding my hands out for my bags.

“I can put these inside for you.”

Staring into his pale green eyes, I nearly lose myself… nearly invite him in. “I can handle it.”

He smirks but stops resisting and hands me the bags. I gently set them next to my purse. “You didn’t answer my question, Ry. What are you doing here? Did you need something?”

“Happy birthday.”

Oh my god. “You remembered.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Lulu. I do own a calendar.”

I giggle, trying to disguise my emotions. “Yeah, I think you’ve mentioned that before.”

“I went to the bar. Will said you weren’t coming out. They wanted to take you to dinner, but you said no?”

I shrug. “You know how crowded every place is on Valentine’s Day. Not to mention, it’s a Saturday. Besides, I haven’t ever really celebrated my birthday since leaving town; it’s just another day.”

There’s no point in reminding him that my only true birthday celebration was with him—twelve years ago. He knows that Carrie had to remind my parents about it every single year.

Then, Carrie was gone.

And then he was gone.

What was left to celebrate?

He takes a step closer to me, making me hold my breath. “It’s not just another day to me.”

I can’t do this.

I can’t be here. With him. This close to me.

I clear my throat. “Well…umm, thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you on Monday.”

His large hand slaps against the door, preventing me from closing it. “You forgot your present.”

“What present?”

He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

I stare at it. Is he kidding me right now? He wants to hold my hand? No. Definitely not. Not doing that.

Holy shit. He’s holding my hand.

My body turned Benedict Arnold and grabbed onto him without my brain even giving consent. Our palms fit together like melted butter, and his thumb slowly rubs against my soft skin, stroking back and forth like he’s done a hundred times before.

Although, those hundred times were over a decade ago. When we were young, when we were just kids.

Liquid heat boils in my body, gathering in a soft pool, low in my stomach. I’m about to ask where we’re going when he turns down the sidewalk and leads me through the wrought-iron fence and into the back yard.

Kill. Me. Now.

The swimming pool twinkles and shines with the soft glow from the floating water lanterns that I love so much. The paper lanterns that I dream about. The paper lanterns that filled the pond of the homestead on this very same night exactly twelve years ago. The night my parents forgot about me. The night he gave me vital information about Carrie’s case. The night he claimed me as his own, with his mouth, underneath the stars of the night sky.

“Thirty of them. Happy thirtieth birthday, Lulu.”

I can’t think. I can’t speak. I can’t even function. He’s sucked the dead existence from my soul and dared to ignite it, trying to stoke it to life. I pull my hand from his and rub the back of my neck. It hurts to even whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Don’t overthink it. It’s just a birthday present, just something nice.”

I turn to him. The light cascades off his body in waves, soaking him in highlights of white and yellow. “Is that all it is?” Because it feels like the love of my life is trying to break me. Trying to shatter my hate into little pieces. Pieces that will dissolve into the ground, leaving the past in the past, allowing us to carve a new future for ourselves.

He smiles softly. “For tonight it is.” He then sighs, dramatically. “Besides, it’s getting cold. And cold grease isn’t good for anybody.” He points over to the patio table where it’s set with plates and napkins and a cooler. Sitting in the middle of the table is a familiar paper bag dotted with grease stains.

My eyebrows raise into my hairline. “Philly cheesesteaks?”

“With cheese fries and sour gummy worms for dessert.”

My stomach instantly growls. Laughing, he sets the food out for us, giving me a Diet Coke and opening up a beer for himself. Ry doesn’t talk. He lets me eat in peace. Correction: he lets me stuff my face in peace. It’s frustrating that he knows me so well. He knows I’ve been craving a sandwich like this and denying myself just because I wanted to prove a point to him. Now, I can’t get it in my mouth quick enough. I’m surprised I don’t choke.

I’m leaned back in my chair, sucking the sugar off a gummy worm before we say more words than ‘ hand me a fresh napkin’ and ‘ do you need another drink’ and ‘ you have cheese on your eyelid’ . By the way, I’m the one who had cheese on her eyelid.

“So, where’d you go?”

“Jackson, Mississippi. I got there Thursday night. I had meetings yesterday and today.”

“What for? TV stuff?”

“No, this is consultant work for an upcoming trial. Medical malpractice.”

He cracks open another beer. “What are you doing for it?”

“Well, they hired me a while back to do in-depth research to find two medical professionals who would be the best fit for our case. I needed one expert in a particular surgery technique and one expert for a particular piece of equipment. We had web meetings with both of them to discuss and prepare. One of them is from Indiana and the other is from California. They also hired me to do a timeline of the three victims’ medical histories. The doctor visits, medical histories, and medication logs aren’t linear, they’re concurrent. So, we need a breakdown to make it easier for a jury to understand. I’ll have some visual aids done up for that so we can submit them as evidence.”

“You do that too?”

“Not me personally; you know I can only draw buildings. I have an amazing graphic designer I outsource that stuff to. She works with one of the cable networks.”

“I still can’t believe you turned that morbid obsession of watching true crime documentaries into a successful career.” He takes a drink and I watch the muscles in his throat work. “When will the trial be?”

“Most likely in the summer.” I toss the bag of gummy worms to the middle of the table. “I’m stuffed. Do not let me eat anything else.”

He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “That’s a tall order. Have I ever been able to control you?”

I bite my lip, thinking about the past. “I guess it depended on the order, didn’t it?”

He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his fingers scratch against the scruff lining the square set of his jaw. “What did you mean when you said you don’t ever celebrate your birthday? Didn’t Hudson take you out, make the day special?”

“Of course not. The only thing Hudson celebrated was a legal win.” I can’t help but mock, “Whenever his dumbass got lucky enough to win, that is.”

“Lulu, that’s terrible.”

“Oh, they only let him be first chair on a few cases. They kept him mostly as second chair—and even that is a very liberal title for him. The wins for the firm still stacked up; it just wasn’t because of Hudson. He didn’t care, though, as long as he got his big paychecks.”

“I’m not talking about his law career. Fuck that. I’m talking about his lack of making sure his wife had a proper birthday.”

I hate to hear Ry call me Hudson’s wife. “It’s no big deal.”

His eyes narrow in irritation. “It’s a huge deal. I mean, seriously, your birthday’s on Valentine’s Day. There’s no excuse for it. Call a restaurant and make a reservation. It’s not hard.”

“Oh, he made Valentine’s Day reservations, alright. They just weren’t for me.”

Ry takes a deep breath. “What are you saying?”

Holy hell. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. Didn’t mean to air my dirty laundry like it’s washing day. Now, I’m trapped. No way to back track, no way to escape.

Ry leans back in his chair, studying me with a lethal look on his face. “You plan on telling me what you mean by that comment?”

“No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”

I pretend to busy myself wiping imaginary crumbs from the table. Then I remember who I am, straighten my back, and stare straight into his eyes. “I just meant that he spent days like Valentine’s Day with whichever poor, unlucky girl happened to be his mistress at the time.”

“That asshole cheated on you?”

“Ry, it’s fine.”

He slams his chair back from the table and stands up. “On what planet is that fine, Lulu?”

I shrug. “Our relationship wasn’t like that.”

He cocks his hands on his hips. “Relationship? I’m not talking about your dry cleaner, Lulu. I’m talking about your husband. It was a marriage. It was sacred.”

His possessiveness stirs unwanted lust in my body, and I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of desire. “Nothing about that situation was sacred.”

He shakes his own head, dumbfounded with my answer and attitude. “Let me get this straight, Hudson cheated on you…multiple times. And you let him live? You didn’t stand up for yourself? Didn’t fight? That doesn’t sound like the Lulu, I know.” He leans down, splaying his hands across the table. “It sounds like your mother.”

Now, it’s my turn to push away from the table and stand up. I point my finger in his face. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. My mother hated that my father cheated. She wished he wouldn’t. She tried to mold herself into this fake little person, just trying to capture his attention. She wanted my father’s love and affection. I’m nothing like my mother because I actually didn’t care if Hudson cheated on me. I didn’t want his love and affection. If having mistress after mistress kept his hands off me, then I was completely fine with it. Hell, I nearly wrote some of those women damn thank you cards!”

His mouth slacks open. “I—I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Don’t make more of it than it is. After I left the University of Florida and moved to Mobile, we never even lived together again. I have a small house in the country, and he has a huge condo in the middle of downtown. So, when I say it was no big deal, I mean it.”

Ry laces his hands behind his head. The movement makes a small corner of his shirt come untucked and a strip of tan skin flashes, making my mouth water. “You cheated on him too?”

“You know I would never do that. That’s not me. I kept my vow.”

He slowly lowers his hands. His face is confused, bombarded with thought after thought. “You didn’t want him to touch you? Does that mean you never had… sex … with him?”

I try not to blush, but I know I do. Embarrassment, disgust, and resignation must color my face like a fire engine. “I didn’t say that. We were married for nine years. Sometimes, I needed intimacy, companionship. And since I wasn’t gonna commit adultery myself, I had no other choice than to be with Hudson.”

He looks like I just stabbed him in the stomach. He literally doubles over, absorbing the information that he already knew. I had sex with my husband.

And why the fuck does he even care?

He broke up with me.

I was free to screw every guy on Holt’s football team, if I wanted to.

Except… I didn’t want to.

And despite my desire to spew vitriol at him for his reaction, we’re kindred spirits in a way. Because I feel his pain. I feel it every time a woman looks in his direction. Every time one of his one-night stands comes around wanting night two. My body shakes in fury just thinking about it.

I grab the trash from the table and toss it into the outside wicker trash can. I zip the lid to his cooler and slide it across the table, placing it right in front of him. “Thank you for the dinner. And the beautiful lanterns. It’s been a long couple of days. I need to rest. You can show yourself out.”

Ry reaches out, snatching my hand in his. Bending his head, his hot breath skims the side of my face.

Why? How? How can I hate him and love him all at the same time?

His whisper cracks with emotion. “Why did you marry him, Lulu?”

I shrug. “Why not? No one else was standing in line, Ry.”

I pull from his grasp and leave him there before any more of his words can bury me in my grave.