Ryker
Page 61
Immediately, my heart starts jackhammering as I think something has happened to the girls. The team plane should have landed almost an hour ago, so I know Ryker has to be back in Raleigh.
Maybe she can’t get in touch with him and decided to come here instead?
I jump up from my desk and brush past her, seeing Hensley standing there looking nervous. I wave my hand at her, beckoning her to come into my office.
“What’s wrong?” I ask worriedly as soon as my office door is shut, and I head for my chair behind my desk. I motion for Hensley to take one of my guest chairs and she sits primly on the edge, balancing her purse on her lap.
“I was hoping you and I could talk,” she says bluntly.
“Wait a minute,” I say with confusion. “Are the girls okay?”
“Of course they’re okay,” she says, also with confusion. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
I shake my head and try to clear out the discombobulation. I’m truly thrown for a loop Ryker’s wife is sitting in my office right now.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a polite smile. “I just thought something had happened to one of the girls. I guess I don’t understand why you would come to see me otherwise.”
Hensley’s lips flatten a little, and while she’s trying to remain calm, her voice is bitter. “You don’t think I have reason to come and talk to the woman who is standing in the way of me fixing my marriage.”
“Hensley—”
“Four years ago, Ryker lost his father. Heart attack. Do you know who was there for him? Me. He turned to me in his grief, and I was there for him. I helped him mourn and get past it.”
“I don’t know—”
“Ryker and I built a massive playhouse for the girls in our backyard back near Boston,” she continues, rolling right over me. “That project took us almost a month of weekends and early evening work, but together we built this really beautiful wooden, life-size dollhouse for the girls to play in. And both Ryker and I would sit up there with them and have tea parties. He’d let Violet paint his nails and Ruby would insist he wear a tiara, and well…I wish you could have seen how much love was on his face when he looked across that tiny table at me and grinned.”
Nausea slams into me like a tidal wave as I listen to her. She doesn’t pause for breath but just lets it all come out.
“And he was so great when I was pregnant. Treated me like a queen. And during the births…just the excitement and love on his face when each of those girls was born. He would crawl into the hospital bed and lie beside me while we held one of our baby daughters.”
Tears prick at my eyes as I listen to all the ways in which Ryker was in love with his wife. All the ways in which he provided for her. Built a home with her. Relied on her. Had babies with her.
Hensley’s not making any of this up. I can tell each story is true, and with every word she utters, I can feel him slipping away from me.
Finally, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a stack of photos. She stands and starts placing photo after photo on my desk for me to look at.
Ryker and Hensley’s wedding…him delicately feeding her cake.
Ryker giving Hensley a piggyback ride in the snow.
Hensley holding a baby while Ryker takes a selfie as he sits beside her, grinning big.
Every single photo with Ryker grinning big.
So very fucking happy with his family.
“Stop,” I croak, and then reach for the bottle of water sitting on my desk.
I take a sip as Hensley picks up the photos and sits down. She actually looks at me with empathy and says, “I get that you care for Ryker. He’s just one of those men who sort of sweep you up. But I still love him. And I believe deep down, he still has love for me. Now, I don’t know if this will work or not, but I think he and I should at least have one stab at trying to rebuild our home if we can. I think we owe it to Ruby and Violet to try.”
“And you can’t do it if I’m in the picture?” I whisper.
“No. I can’t do it if his attention is on you.”
I’m not going to lie. I’m overwhelmed by Hensley’s plea. She makes a great argument for me to back the hell off. But I don’t forget Ryker’s face when he told me he loved me. That was real. That was just a few days ago.
But what about the girls?
Am I what’s best for them? Or do they deserve to have a chance for their family to get put back together?
And the biggest question of all…what does Ryker want?
He tells me he wants me. He said his marriage is done. Over. No more.
But is it? With those memories and photos of memories never letting anyone forget for a single fucking moment that he was very happy with Hensley?
I’m on the verge of telling Hensley to go for it. That I cede. That I’ll crawl away and be lonely and depressed so she can take a stab at fixing her marriage. But then she makes a mistake.
She still has that empathetic look on her face, but she utters the wrong words. “And Miss Brannon…I don’t have to tell you how inappropriate your relationship is with Ryker. It would be disastrous if this got out to the public.”
My eyes flare with surprise.
She did not.
She did, didn’t she?
She. Just. Threatened. Me.
So stupid. She had me. I admit…she played my heartstrings and played them well.
But no one—and I repeat no one—plays with my lady balls. That just won’t do.
I stand from my desk and I give Hensley the sweetest, most understanding look I have in my arsenal. And I know it comes off good because she reacts by smiling at me.
Maybe she can’t get in touch with him and decided to come here instead?
I jump up from my desk and brush past her, seeing Hensley standing there looking nervous. I wave my hand at her, beckoning her to come into my office.
“What’s wrong?” I ask worriedly as soon as my office door is shut, and I head for my chair behind my desk. I motion for Hensley to take one of my guest chairs and she sits primly on the edge, balancing her purse on her lap.
“I was hoping you and I could talk,” she says bluntly.
“Wait a minute,” I say with confusion. “Are the girls okay?”
“Of course they’re okay,” she says, also with confusion. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
I shake my head and try to clear out the discombobulation. I’m truly thrown for a loop Ryker’s wife is sitting in my office right now.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a polite smile. “I just thought something had happened to one of the girls. I guess I don’t understand why you would come to see me otherwise.”
Hensley’s lips flatten a little, and while she’s trying to remain calm, her voice is bitter. “You don’t think I have reason to come and talk to the woman who is standing in the way of me fixing my marriage.”
“Hensley—”
“Four years ago, Ryker lost his father. Heart attack. Do you know who was there for him? Me. He turned to me in his grief, and I was there for him. I helped him mourn and get past it.”
“I don’t know—”
“Ryker and I built a massive playhouse for the girls in our backyard back near Boston,” she continues, rolling right over me. “That project took us almost a month of weekends and early evening work, but together we built this really beautiful wooden, life-size dollhouse for the girls to play in. And both Ryker and I would sit up there with them and have tea parties. He’d let Violet paint his nails and Ruby would insist he wear a tiara, and well…I wish you could have seen how much love was on his face when he looked across that tiny table at me and grinned.”
Nausea slams into me like a tidal wave as I listen to her. She doesn’t pause for breath but just lets it all come out.
“And he was so great when I was pregnant. Treated me like a queen. And during the births…just the excitement and love on his face when each of those girls was born. He would crawl into the hospital bed and lie beside me while we held one of our baby daughters.”
Tears prick at my eyes as I listen to all the ways in which Ryker was in love with his wife. All the ways in which he provided for her. Built a home with her. Relied on her. Had babies with her.
Hensley’s not making any of this up. I can tell each story is true, and with every word she utters, I can feel him slipping away from me.
Finally, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a stack of photos. She stands and starts placing photo after photo on my desk for me to look at.
Ryker and Hensley’s wedding…him delicately feeding her cake.
Ryker giving Hensley a piggyback ride in the snow.
Hensley holding a baby while Ryker takes a selfie as he sits beside her, grinning big.
Every single photo with Ryker grinning big.
So very fucking happy with his family.
“Stop,” I croak, and then reach for the bottle of water sitting on my desk.
I take a sip as Hensley picks up the photos and sits down. She actually looks at me with empathy and says, “I get that you care for Ryker. He’s just one of those men who sort of sweep you up. But I still love him. And I believe deep down, he still has love for me. Now, I don’t know if this will work or not, but I think he and I should at least have one stab at trying to rebuild our home if we can. I think we owe it to Ruby and Violet to try.”
“And you can’t do it if I’m in the picture?” I whisper.
“No. I can’t do it if his attention is on you.”
I’m not going to lie. I’m overwhelmed by Hensley’s plea. She makes a great argument for me to back the hell off. But I don’t forget Ryker’s face when he told me he loved me. That was real. That was just a few days ago.
But what about the girls?
Am I what’s best for them? Or do they deserve to have a chance for their family to get put back together?
And the biggest question of all…what does Ryker want?
He tells me he wants me. He said his marriage is done. Over. No more.
But is it? With those memories and photos of memories never letting anyone forget for a single fucking moment that he was very happy with Hensley?
I’m on the verge of telling Hensley to go for it. That I cede. That I’ll crawl away and be lonely and depressed so she can take a stab at fixing her marriage. But then she makes a mistake.
She still has that empathetic look on her face, but she utters the wrong words. “And Miss Brannon…I don’t have to tell you how inappropriate your relationship is with Ryker. It would be disastrous if this got out to the public.”
My eyes flare with surprise.
She did not.
She did, didn’t she?
She. Just. Threatened. Me.
So stupid. She had me. I admit…she played my heartstrings and played them well.
But no one—and I repeat no one—plays with my lady balls. That just won’t do.
I stand from my desk and I give Hensley the sweetest, most understanding look I have in my arsenal. And I know it comes off good because she reacts by smiling at me.
