Текст книги "Love Unrehearsed"

Автор книги: Tina Reber

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

“I know. And I think I have a solution.”

Ryan raised a brow. “You do?”

After I told him my idea, he was more than happy. He was downright relieved.

Going to Italy was easier said than done. After spending another few days with Ryan in Vancouver, I flew back to Rhode Island by myself. The month of June was almost over, Marie was slightly miserable, Tammy wasn’t really speaking to either of us, and Pete was drowning in debt, his days of climbing ladders and doing manual labor for a living on hold indefinitely.

To say I was looking forward to returning to all of this would be a lie. At least the paparazzi and gossip rags were being somewhat nice, printing photos of our happiness when they caught Ryan and me out shopping a few days ago.

Ryan and I had a nice time wandering around, taking in some sights and spending some money on stuff we didn’t need but could afford. I was sporting a gorgeous antique diamond bracelet that Ryan spent a small fortune on and he bought himself a nice platinum chain with a stainless steel dog tag that had a tribal design on one side and my name engraved on the other.

But now I was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, Marie behind the wheel, since she picked me up at the airport, and the amazing time I had with Ryan sadly becoming another memory.

I watched the landscape zoom by once again, feeling a sense of déjà vu, and wondering if things would settle.

Going back to Mitchell’s Pub was starting to feel like a burden, and that was not good.

“Did you book your flight?” I asked, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.

Marie glanced over quickly. “Yeah. Class starts July ninth.”

My mind flipped through the calendar, knowing I already had a problem, but I wasn’t about to let it halt her plans.

“You’re going to miss Ryan’s wrap party because of me.”

I felt my shoulders tense as I glanced over at her. “Mike needs to keep his big mouth shut.”

Marie barked out a laugh, “I know you’re supposed to be in Pittsburg at his parents’ on the twenty-second as well, which you failed to tell me about.”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret.” Well, I was, but I wasn’t going to tell her until after she’d left.

She passed a slow-moving camper in the center lane. “Liar. You said you didn’t have anything firm until the Teen Choice Awards on August seventh.”

And therein was my problem, right in a nutshell. Since cloning wasn’t possible, something had to give, just like Ryan had said. “You need to worry about your schedule and leave me to worry about mine,” I growled, teasingly of course.

“I thought you were trying to go to Italy the week before that?”

“No. Ryan’s not sure if he’ll have to go to L.A. earlier. He’s waiting to hear.”

I dug around in my purse for my calendar. “When are you coming back then?”

“July twenty-eighth.” Her voice did an excited upswing, making it sound like a question. I could tell she was treading lightly. She also knew that I had no one to fall back on.

“You’ll come back a lean, mean fighting machine,” I joked, trying to let her know I was totally supporting her decisions.

Marie gave me a weak smile. “I don’t have to go for this session, Taryn. I could put it off. Give it a year, maybe. I dunno. I know I’m putting you in a tight spot.”

I adjusted my ring. “No. Definitely not.”

“Taryn, I’m rushing this. I don’t even know if Mike wants a relationship with me. I’m fighting with Gary over who gets to keep the damn toaster and shit. I shouldn’t be making any big moves.”

“If this is what you want then you go for it now. Time to do what you want to do for once.”

“But—”

“But what? Are you going to doubt your desires because you’re unsure of Mike’s intentions? You want to be a bodyguard, knowing what it entails, then do it. And no buts. I haven’t seen you this excited about something in years. You want to forge a new career path, then now is the time. You’re wasting your education and talents being stuck behind the bar.”

“I’m not stuck . . .”

“Yes, you are. We both are. It’s time for the next chapter.”

“I need an income, Taryn,” she countered. “I can’t go without a job.”

I sighed. “We’ve had this discussion already.”

“Taryn, you can’t pay me a salary that I didn’t work for. You’ve already loaned me money for the lawyer. And it’s going to be a while until I see a settlement from my divorce so I can pay you back.”

“Marie, what did I say?”

She huffed. “It’s not right. You can’t keep bailing your friends out.”

I turned in my seat to look at her, keeping the fact that I was going to cash out some of my inheritance to cover things if I needed to. The bar was making more money but not enough to cover several full-time salaries. “You would do the same for me and you know it.”

“You’re going to have to hire another bartender or two and someone will have to be there to manage the place. And I can’t expect you to hire someone for only two weeks and then fire them when I get back.

Cory is great, but you know as well as I do that he’s young and isn’t ready to take on that amount of responsibility. And what happens if I get down there and find out I can’t handle it? Mike said this is pretty intense stuff—like combat training, firing a gun while rolling on the ground and stuff. I mean, what the hell do I know about disarming someone or kicking someone’s ass? Last time I was in a fight was when we were in high school and I punched Sophie Lithgow in the face for calling me a slut.”

I laughed. “It’s a start. And that was classic, by the way. She deserved that—calling both of us sluts.”

“Yeah, but I at least earned the title,” Marie boasted.

“No you did not.”

Then she gave me a crooked stare, insinuating that she did.

We were silent for another half mile when I finally said what was swirling in my thoughts. “Ryan sort of hinted again that I should sell the bar.”

Marie’s mouth popped open. “Why?”

“Because I can’t be in two places at once.”

She groaned softly. “You sure you want to do that?”

My knee-jerk answer was no, but I said, “I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”

She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t think you should sell it.”

I was thankful she said that. “Is it wrong of me to want to have a fallback plan?”

“Hell no! Look at me. Bastard locked me out of my own damn house! I barely escaped with the clothes on my back and now he’s threatening to smash our china that his aunt got us just so I don’t try to take it in the divorce. I don’t know where I would have ended up if you hadn’t taken me in. That’s not to say Ryan would do any of that nonsense to you. Honestly, I think you’d be just fine doing something else if you did sell the bar but the part of me going through a shitty divorce says you should keep your safety net.”

The smart woman inside me had been burned too many times by men, and so maintaining self-preservation was a moral imperative. “I hate feeling like that.”

“I know,” she muttered. “What did your mother always tell us?

“The one where you can find trash on any street corner, but you should always hold out for a man with a heart of gold?”

“No, no. That was a good one, too, but the one where she always said that you should make sure the man loves you more than you love the man,” she said. “According to Ryan, the sun rises and sets on your ass so I think you’re good.”

Thinking back to those times when my mom gave me her little quips of wisdom spread warmth up from my heart. “My mother was a wise woman.”

Marie grinned. “Yes she was. Too bad I didn’t listen.”

I scratched my head. “Yeah, that makes two of us. This time I am, though.”

“Yes indeed. Trading in the bad boy for the badass boy.”

For some reason, a picture of a shirtless, beefy Mike Murphy flashed through my thoughts. “Mike’s pretty badass.”

“Yes he is.” She smiled. “He’s the reason why I’m sure things need to end between me and Gary. I didn’t realize just how bad I had it until Mike came along. Gary has never made me a priority. Not once did he ever put my needs ahead of his own. When I look back at our relationship, even before we got married he never made me feel as if I was important. You’ve seen it. After a while, that shit starts to wear on you. But Mike . . . I know he’s pulling in a few favors to get me into this school. He hasn’t hesitated once about taking care of me. Not once.”

“Mike’s been really grumpy,” I told her. “Ryan’s ready to ship him here—soon. Fortunately, they’re just about wrapped on Slipknot.”

Her face lit up. It was such a beautiful thing. “Really?”

I smiled just as broadly. “He thinks Mike’s in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

After a few seconds of grinning from ear to ear, she said, “Ryan’s madly in love with you, you know.

Still . . . please don’t sell the bar.”

I bristled a bit.

“I’m sad that I’m going to miss your engagement party at Ryan’s parents’. I’m sure Ellen will stuff you full of food.” She didn’t have to tell me that those words hurt her to say.

That reminded me of one more thing I had to do: time to see if my next bright idea would pan out.

“I went to visit Pete today,” I told Ryan when we Skyped later that night. Poor Pete. I could completely relate to the torturous itching that came from sporting a cast. His new limp also didn’t go unnoticed.

“How’s he doing?” Ryan asked while lying on the bed with his laptop on his legs. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and obviously had just gotten out of the shower, as his skin was flush and deliciously dewy. Damn, it was a beautiful sight on my computer screen.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to talk to you while you’re looking like that?”

Ryan’s face scrunched. “Like what?”

“Naked and all . . .” My hand waved since I was at a loss for words.

Ryan grinned, running a hand over his bare chest. “You like what you see?”

“You know I do.”

He flipped his laptop to the side, making sure the camera was showing what he was now stroking in his hand. Like a teenager watching a porno, I had my very own Ryan Christensen nudie show. “See anything else that you like?”

I blushed, feeling extremely nervous. “Oh my God, Ryan! What if some hacker can see you like that?

That’s how private sex stuff . . . stop! You want videos of you whacking off to go viral?”

He nudged his screen, aiming the camera back on his face, which now showed demanding authority.

“No one is going to see. Take your laptop back to our bed and take your clothes off.”

I jumped a bit at his stern tone, feeling oddly compelled to comply. Still, I was very apprehensive to do anything so risqué over the Internet. “Ryan . . .”

His expression was meant to show that he wasn’t going to be denied. “Now, Taryn.”

It worked.

Begrudgingly, I carried my laptop to my room and flopped down, still fully clothed.

We were both on our sides, one arm propping our heads up. I watched as his fingers moved toward the screen. “I miss you,” he said softly, cracking my resistance as if it were made of tissue paper. “I miss the feeling of completeness I have when you’re in my arms. Do you ever feel that way? Like a part of you is missing when we’re apart?”

I wanted to reach through the screen and touch him back. “All the time. I sort of feel incomplete.”

He wiped his finger over his lips. It was the sexiest damn thing, as if his hunger for me was palpable.

“Do you know what my favorite part of your body is?”

I swallowed—hard—figuring he’d go for the obvious. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of guessing.

“No guess? It’s your lips. And not for the act that you might think I love them for. The curve of them makes me always wonder what’s going on in your head. Between your lips and your eyes I can more or less guess and I’m usually pretty accurate. You may not realize it, but they are the windows into your

soul.”

I studied his face—the softness of his cheeks to where they met up with the shadow of beard growing on his jaw, the incredibly long eyelashes that framed those million-dollar bedroom eyes, the square cut of his chin. “Your eyes give you away, too, you know.”

“If you were here, I’d kiss you right now. I wouldn’t stop until you were naked underneath me, sighing in my mouth. I can almost feel the silky smoothness of your skin as I run my fingers beneath your undies.”

I was beginning to believe there may be some wonderful advantages to video chatting. He was seducing me with the soft cadence of his words and the visuals he created in my thoughts.

“Take your finger, run it slowly down your neck, down to the base of your throat. I want you to feel me kissing you as I make love to you.”

Obediently, I did as he instructed. Each time he told me to wet my fingers or pinch my own flesh turned me on more and more until I was drenched with excitement, panting and moaning. I’d touched myself plenty of times during those dry spells between dating, but this was a million times better.

A million.

Ryan had conveniently turned the screen so I could watch him clean up. My pounding heart was finally slowing when he nudged his laptop back to display his face on my screen.

His satiated smile lit up my heart. “You should video-seduce me more often,” I said.

He laughed lightly, finger-combing his hair back off his forehead. “I’d much rather do that to you in person, but we do what we have to do in the meantime.”

“I didn’t realize watching you would be such a turn-on.”

His lips twitched. “Oh, I did. Just hearing your voice is a turn-on for me; everything else was just a bonus.”

I rolled over onto my stomach. “Yeah, right. My voice excites you that much.”

His expression said he was dead serious. “Future wife, we’ve had phone sex before and now not only can I see your face, I can also see your naked boobs. Trust me. Now tell me about Pete, unless you want to go for round two, which I must say I’m getting ready for.” I watched him stuff a few pillows under his head and then he flashed his semi onto the screen again just to show me his exclamation point to that statement.

After I regained my ability to speak, I muttered, “Pete’s miserable.”

“You iron out that crap with Tammy?”

“No. But I will. I’m presuming we’re still in the wedding. You still want to be a groomsman? He asked if you were still in. I’d understand it if you don’t want to. You haven’t known Pete that long and—”

Ryan interrupted me. “I already told him I would. I gave him my word. They should know that my presence is going to cause a stir, so if they’re good with that, I’m in. They’ve been warned. Besides, there’s no way I’d let some other guy walk you down the aisle, Taryn. No way in hell.”

I loved his possessiveness. It made me feel safe and cherished. “Is that your final answer?”

He glared at me over my screen before saying, “That’s my final answer forever. You good with that, babe?”

Considering that Thomas had left me at a party once, not giving a shit who drove me home or even if I got home alive, I was more than fine with it. “Yes.”

“That’s my girl.”

Say what you will, but I was damn glad to be his in no uncertain terms.

“And what did he say to your other proposition?”

The memory of Pete’s reaction when I asked him made me smile wider. “You’d have thought I’d offered him a miracle.”

“So he’s on board with it?”

“Yes. He starts training with me tomorrow.”

Chapter 18

When It Rains

It was coming down in buckets outside. It was the kind of heavy rain that you swear just might come through the roof because it’s falling that hard. I wandered to the front door of Ryan’s parents’ home, cracking the door to watch the rain pour down.

Ryan had wrapped on filming Slipknot, and the cast wrap party was something else. Pete was doing an excellent job managing the pub, so I was able to meet Ryan back in Vancouver. Nicole had gotten quite intoxicated, slurring at us and insinuating it was Ryan’s fault that her lover, Lauren Delaney, wasn’t there.

I knew for certain that her love life wasn’t even on Ryan’s radar when we arrived at the party, but she was under the impression that he’d banned Lauren from the guest list.

Maybe he overdid it just a bit when he said she’d be lucky to get a job waiting tables once the media catches wind of her drug habit, but it definitely shut her up quickly.

So many people only see the smiling public photos of celebrities at premieres and junkets; if the general public only knew some of the shit that went down on major movie sets, they’d be shocked.

Personality clashes, overinflated egos, differences in acting methods and scene interpretations—it all happened.

But that was two days ago, Ryan finally had some downtime, and we had a family engagement party to brace for.

Ryan slid a hand over my khaki shorts and gripped my hip, peering over my shoulder. “Go,” he nudged, pushing me on through the threshold. “Let’s go stand out on the porch.”

The sky at 7:30 P.M. was dark and ominous; the heat of the day was being quenched, causing the steam to rise up off the hot macadam driveway. I held my hand out into the thick stream of rainwater that was flowing over the lip of the storm gutters that edged along the porch roof.

“Nick and I washed my dad’s car in a downpour like this once. We had a blast. Dad gave us a bucket and sponges and put us to work, though we didn’t know we were working at the time. We were all soapy and soaked but damn did we have fun.”

The water pelting my hand was cool and refreshingly chilly as I imagined two mischievous boys running around with soap sponges. “Wow, it’s really pouring!”

“I’ll say. Last time I saw it rain this hard, we were—”

I instantly stiffened. Ryan stiffened up, too, stopping himself.

Streaks of car lights flickered through drops of rain in my thoughts; the sounds of tires screeching on wet road and a horn blaring at me to get out of the middle of the street in downtown Miami swirled into one painful flashback. That horrid memory, that feeling as if I’d just been eviscerated seeing him kiss Lauren, that wishing to have all the pain just go away washed over me. It was distant but instant.

Thankfully, I was able to keep that memory separate from this current moment, not allowing those bad moments to pull me under.

“I shouldn’t . . . I didn’t mean,” Ryan fumbled, followed by the whisper of a curse to himself.

I gave him my attention, trying not to let it blow out of proportion. “It’s all right.”

Suddenly he snagged my wrist, pulling me to the opening on the porch. “I. Fuck. Come,” he ordered.

“Where are we going?”

Ryan stepped off the porch, then stood directly under the water overflowing from the gutter above.

“What are you doing?” I asked as the water poured onto his head. He smiled wickedly and shook the water off his head before bending and catching me behind my knees. I felt the whoosh as I was hefted over his bare shoulder and then cold rainwater pelted my hair, my shoulders, and my back, causing me to squeal.

“Ryan!”

“Come on, baby.” He walked us down the flooded driveway in his bare feet. He only had a pair of track shorts on since we were lounging around the house.

The rain was cold but refreshing and instantly blocked my thoughts out, giving me the space to only worry about getting soaked.

“What are you doing?” I giggled as he hustled down the long drive.

“Makin’ new memories,” he said in a rush, stopping when he reached the torrent of water flowing down the street.

Just when I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I already did, I fell another few miles deeper in love with him. He twirled us around, holding my legs out so I was balanced over his shoulder on my stomach. Heavy rain pelted my legs as I laughed from his playfulness.

“You’re crazy!” I felt so giddy and free.

Ryan motioned like he was going to dump me on the ground. “Do you love me?”

I grabbed the back of his wet shorts. “Yes!”

He raised my legs higher. “What?”

“Yes!” I giggled louder, exposing the top crack of his ass as he hung me down his back.

He splashed into a huge puddle. “Say it!”

“I love you!”

Ryan spun us in a circle. My wet hair whipped around, sticking to my face. “What? I can’t hear you.

It’s raining. You’ll have to speak up.”

“I love you!” I shouted, wiping the wet hair out of my eyes with one hand while holding his shorts with the other.

“You what?”

I smacked his perfect, soaking-wet ass. “I love you!”

“You love me?”

He was making me dizzy, jumping and twirling us around like that. “I love you!”

His hands gripped my thighs. “You gonna marry me, Mitchell?”

“Yes! Don’t drop me!”

He dipped me back farther; my wet shirt gathered uncomfortably under my breasts. “Yes? Yes, what?”

I was laughing so hard, I was getting one of those side-stickers in my ribs. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

He set me down in the cold, streaming rainwater; one hand grasped my hip while the other got stuck into my hair at the base of my head. And then he was kissing me. In the downpour. In the stream of water running against the curb in front of his parents’ house outside of Pittsburgh. Kissing me with everything he had and then some. Smoothing back my wet hair. Biting my lips. Swirling his tongue with mine.

Mingling our hungry breath into one.

Marking my memories with new thoughts of the rain.

Shining his brightness on me in the midst of a dark storm.

My hands were on his smooth, muscular back, his ribs, his neck and face.

Mine.

Mine, mine, mine.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you more.”

He broke away to grace me with his killer smile. His happiness, knowing I was a huge part of it, was like a gift. One that I’d cherish forever.

But I still had to get him back for spinning me upside down. I bent down, gathered up a handful of water, and tossed it at him.

“Oh yeah?” He skimmed his big foot through the stream, sending water splashing all over my shins.

I hadn’t felt so free in such a long time. I kicked water back at him. When he bent for his own handful, I kept kicking and splashing, until he was sufficiently drenched.

Ryan straightened, glared down, and said, “You’d better run.”

I took off through the rain, running only the length of the neighbor’s yard barefoot in the street before I got tagged and scooped up off the ground.

Ryan was smiling as he carried me down to the corner where the street storm drain was overflowing.

The rain was coming down so hard, the water was flooding the street.

“We used to play down here,” Ryan said, walking with me pressed to his chest. “Me and Nick. Ricky Beidler used to live in that house over there. We’d get into all sorts of trouble.”

He set me down in ankle-deep water. That’s when the serious splashing started. Water soaked into my bra, trickling down my back.

“That all you got, Christensen?” I kicked, sending a blast of water at him. He laughed, tossed his wet hair back, and grabbed me around the waist, sitting me down on my ass in the water. I squealed again when cold water flooded down my butt crack.

Ryan plopped down, sitting next to me in the stream. “Come here,” he ordered low, snagging me by the armpits to haul me across his lap.

The rain was slowing down but it could have been hailing for all I cared, being in his arms next to the curb in the street, sitting in rushing storm water. Ryan wiped the matted hair off my forehead, tilting his neck down to kiss me.

There was no denying that look of love in his eyes; that gaze that said a million words. I wrapped my arm over his shoulder, sliding my hand up his wet neck and into the tangles of his hair, feeling his kiss and all its meaning down into my bones.

We were the only two people in the world.

Sitting in the street.

In a small stream.

In the rain.

And just like that, my gorgeous man replaced bad with another slice of great.

It was almost one o’clock the next afternoon when I heard Ryan’s mom, Ellen, huff for the thirty-second time—or was it the thirty-third? I was on my laptop at the kitchen table and Ryan was outside working on his car and ignoring his mother’s desire for him to keep a scheduled feeding time.

I made a silent deal with myself that the next huff would get me moving and sure enough it did.

“Ask him if he’s ready for a sandwich,” Ellen said in a rush, making sure I carried her message out to the garage.

I silently added “Yes, mother” to my “Sure. No problem.”

I found Ryan, or should I say Ryan’s legs and khaki cargo shorts, which were riding very, very low on his hips and exposing all sorts of tight flesh and happy trails of hair. He was on his back underneath the front end of his Shelby, and by the streaks of grease on his very sexy, low-riding khaki cargo shorts, I guessed he was changing the oil. The guy had $29 million but was too much of a guy to pay someone to change his oil. God love him and all of his humbleness.

I tapped his foot. “Hey, hot, sexy mechanic. How’s it going under there?”

Ryan curled up enough to grin at me. “Going good.”

The sight of him with dirty, grease-stained hands, a smear of it on his plain white cotton V-neck tee and one on his forearm, and some tools in his hands added to his sex appeal.

“You’re looking so delish under there; I might be tempted to have you change my oil, too. What do you think?”

That earned me another smug smile. “I think you need more than your oil changed, ma’am. I’m thinking you’ll need a tune-up and a lube job as well.”

“At a minimum!” I joked. “And a buffin’ and a waxin’ too.”

“Keep up with the dirty innuendos; you’re making me hard.”

“Keep up with the hot, dirty mechanic act and I may just do you out here in the driveway.”

That earned me a few eyebrow waggles. “Your mom is having a slow meltdown because you haven’t eaten yet today. How long until you’re finished?” There was no way he’d be able to hold a sandwich with all of that motor oil on his hands so no sense making him something to eat until he was cleaned up.

He groaned. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do? I’ll eat when I’m hungry. I’m still full from last night.”

I was just about to give him a comeback when his cell rang. It was sitting on a towel next to an opened bottle of Gatorade.

“Grab that, would ya? Who is it?”

I crouched down and picked it up, tilting the screen so I could see it in the bright sun. “Your lawyer, Len Bainbridge.”

“Answer it. My hands are too greasy.”

I tapped the screen and said, “Hi, Mr. Bainbridge, it’s Taryn Mitchell.”

“Oh hello, Taryn,” he said jovially. “How are you?”

After a few pleasantries, he asked for Ryan.

Ryan’s legs were still sticking out from underneath his car and he’d already given his instruction. “I’m sorry. He’s indisposed at the moment. He’s asked if I can take a message for him.”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow at my formalness.

“Yes, please tell him that my office is emailing the settlement documents with Brown and Sullivan PR.

He needs to review them and if all is acceptable, we will proceed with the disbursement.”

“Okay, great. I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks. Oh, yes, one moment. Thanks, Miriam. Yes, I almost forgot, Miriam is sending the requested prenuptial agreement template for his review. He’ll need to mark it accordingly as to what your wishes are in the event of dissolution of marriage. It’s all quite self-explanatory. He, of course, should call me if he has any questions.”

My brain seized up at the word prenup.

“Taryn, are you still there?”

I think I formed a spit bubble first, which caused an involuntary reaction to choke.

At the second calling of my name, I managed a nod. “I’ll tell him,” I rasped.

Ryan rolled out from underneath his car, wiping his hands off on an old rag. He looked up at me, squinting one eye at the bright sun. “What did he have to say?”

Did you ever have that warm rush feeling—the kind that hits you right before you either freak out, pass out, or throw up? Yeah, I was there.

“I don’t want your money, Ryan,” I managed to say, even though I felt numb and disconnected from the conversation. He had millions in the bank. I thought we’d gotten beyond that, but apparently my assumption was incorrect. Of course he would want an escape clause.

“Not one cent,” I sort of choked out through the lump in my throat. “I’m capable of earning my own way and if we bring babies into this world I’d expect you to help me raise them right and healthy, but I’ll keep the apartment should you ever decide you need dissolution and I need a place to live. I guess that stuff will just be a given in the divorce proceedings anyway but I would never touch your money or demand a piece of it because you earned that money. I would never do that to you. You’re building the house on your property—it’s not mine nor will it ever be. I need you to know that. I would never take it from you.” I didn’t realize I was tearing up until he went blurry.

Ryan stood quickly. “Babe, you’re freaking me the fuck out. What the hell are you talking about?”

My arm moved, holding out his phone. I should have been angry, but I wasn’t for some reason. I was more desperate and wounded than anything. “Your lawyer is emailing you the prenup agreement you requested. I want you to know I’ll sign it. It’s only right. You should have peace of mind.”

Ryan looked like I’d just punched him. “Whoa, whoa. Hold up. What prenup? I didn’t ask for a prenup.”

I shook the phone in my hand, making a point. “He says different.”

Ryan ducked down, making sure he had my eyes. “Taryn, honey, I swear to God I did not ask him to write up a prenup. I swear. I am just as blindsided by this as you are. But I will get to the bottom of it, you can be damn sure of that. Give me my phone. I’m calling him right now.”

Just as I was ready to hand it over, thankful that he didn’t think I was going to empty his pockets or even imagine me being that greedy that I’d do such a thing, I pulled my hand back.

“Wait.” I wiped the hurt from my cheek. “Before you do that we should talk about it. I know that there are no guarantees that people stay together for life, but I want it written down that I don’t want your money. You help me pay for your children’s’ care, should we have any, and that’s it. I don’t need alimony or any of that because I’ve gotten spoiled or feel entitled that you owe me or something.”

Ryan took my arm firmly in his hand. “Hey, hey, stop. Stop this—right now.”

Once the floodgates had opened, I couldn’t. “No, we need to discuss this! You have a lot of money, Ryan. I didn’t work hard to earn that; you did. That’s yours—all of it. I don’t expect you to fork over gobs of cash I didn’t earn because we didn’t last like we’d hoped. And then there’s the property you bought and stuff. That’s all yours, too. Just because it’s next to my family’s cabin doesn’t mean I’m entitled—”