FORTY SIX

Lexie

When I should have been shaking with fear, I was instead overcome with an overwhelming sense of happiness. My more rational and logical side worked hard to calm it down.

What exactly makes you happy about life right now? You are only twenty-three years old. You have not even begun your studies in the legal field. You intend to advance your professional life while taking care of a child? That's going to be... interesting.

It's funny, because I never realized how condescending my rationalist mind could be until now. I responded to it in a defensive manner. Absolutely, there will be plenty of excitement. And amazing. Ryder accomplished this feat when he was only nineteen years old, and I can do it too. In addition to that, I won't be going at it by myself.

Is that so?

The internal debate that I was having with myself was interrupted by a quavering sensation of dread. When I saw the positive sign on the pregnancy test, it was like seeing the future in front of me at the same time. Ryder was standing in my hospital room holding a wrapped-up blanket at the time. A cute and serene profile could be seen emerging from the folds, with the eyes closed and the lashes resting against the smooth cheeks. I had a vision, as if in a video clip, of the haze of restless nights that we would have to endure together. The way in which he would have to bend over extremely far in order to grasp the small hands that were reaching out. It wasn't until just now that I realized I wasn't just imagining the dozen or so different scenes that were exactly like this one. I saw them all. These photographs were familiar to me.

Ryder appeared to be quite young but exuded an air of assurance even while holding Samantha, who had just been born. When she was learning to walk, his tall body bent over to hold both of her hands while twisting his neck to smile up at the camera. He did this while she was learning to walk. Although she isn't that much older now, her eyes look completely exhausted. And so on and so forth, right up until the most recent one she had of the two of them, which was taken at her graduation from high school.

Samantha.

She would be the baby's older sister when she was born. When I finally understood what was going on, I let out a strange laugh. Suddenly, a fresh deluge of pictures flooded my mind. We were telling her together, Ryder and I, with our hands locked. A concerted effort directed toward the person we loved the most. During the time that I was waiting in Los Angeles for the inevitable angry phone call, Ryder was flying east to tell her without me. She'd get over it, I told myself. When she realized that I genuinely loved him and that our relationship had nothing to do with his wealth or power, she understood. when she witnessed our joy, she burst into tears. If we asked, she'd forgive us.

Despite my best efforts, I was unable to conjure up that image, so I forced it to the back of my mind. I was unable to deal with it at this time. It was against my will. I yearned to experience that dizzying elation once more, but this time without the distractions of the real world. I tucked myself into a nook of the couch and wrapped my arms around the decorative throw pillow. I then buried my face in the pillow and pretended that I was inhaling the scent of a newborn instead of the wiry cotton fibers that smelled vaguely of my shampoo with the faintest hint of Ryder's aftershave. I imagined that I was breathing in the scent of a newborn instead of the cotton fibers. Even though my face was buried in the pillow, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed because it brought back memories of what we'd done on this couch to create the newborn I was imagining. At the same time, a new wave of excitement swept over me. I couldn't contain my excitement until I told him. He might be taken aback, but he admitted that he'd given some thought to expanding his family. That he wished he could have done it with the right person and saved them from having to scramble and hustle their whole childhood.

He said it with remorse, as if the opportunity had passed without him noticing, but he was mistaken. This is where it was.

I immediately stood up and started walking around while simultaneously casting my gaze all over the vicinity. It was impossible to bring up a child in such a cramped space. We could move into the Hills, which is where he brought up Lexie, or perhaps he would even be willing to leave Los Angeles, considering that he is going to scale back on his professional responsibilities anyway. When I imagined us bringing up our child in the luxurious ski lodge he owned in Colorado or even the beach house he owned in Croatia, I felt a jolt of excitement go through my body. I came to the conclusion that Colorado would be a better option. If we remained in the country, it would be much simpler for me to attend law school. But there was no such thing as an impossibility. Absolutely nothing at all.

Exhilarated, I brought both hands to my head and spun around in a circular motion. Now is the time when we could try anything. It was his own admission that he had completed all of the goals he had set for himself in his professional life. Now that we have this opportunity, he can finally live the life he believed he had missed out on, and I can figure out how to build mine no matter where we end up.

I made a light dash across the floor to the elevator bank in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the light that would illuminate when he arrived. I had no doubt in my mind that he was having a good time with Lyndon, Andrew, Michael, and Julian at happy hour, but I couldn't help but harbor the wish that some way, some how, my boundless joy had reached him despite the vast distance that separated us. I'd go to him, I decided. The guys were aware regardless. But even before I pressed the button to call the elevator, I had a change of heart and decided to go a different route. No, I didn't intend to explain it to him in that manner at all.

It was essential that it be unique.

After an hour and a half had passed, I arrived back at Ryder's apartment carrying food that I had picked up from Giardo's. Along the way, I had also stopped at Candle Delirium and purchased a few candles to place on the outdoor table. I had gone to the Flower Market and purchased some flowers, which I then arranged in bunches in two beer steins, which were the only thing I could find that resembled a vase in his apartment. His carbonara was artfully presented on one side of the table, and I had neatly plated my fettuccine on the other side. I'd put the bread in a basket, and the butter pats, which were previously quite firm, were beginning to melt in the sunlight. The tiramisu was still stored in the refrigerator when I had the idea to look it up on Google. After doing so, I found approximately a dozen articles that stated it should not be consumed by pregnant women. I came across a few people who asserted that it was, but I decided to err on the side of caution. The sweet treat and the bottle of red wine that was decanting in the kitchen were both going to be reserved solely for him.

As soon as I got back, I immediately sent him a text message asking when he would be back. To my astonishment, he had not yet provided an answer. When I tried to reach you once, the call was transferred to your voicemail. I was concerned about the passageway that led from the elevator to the food, and I wondered if I should bring it back inside. But unfortunately, he needed to get back to us quickly. He had stated that it would be no more than seven, but it was almost eight.

I sat down in front of my fettuccine at eight thirty and twirled a bite onto my fork. I then proceeded to enjoy my meal. I knew I ought to be hungry because I hadn't eaten anything since lunch at one, but the delicious sauce might as well have been dust for all I tasted of it, and the noodles felt slimy and unappetizing to me. I hadn't eaten since lunch at one. I had only one bite before putting my fork down. In the pit of my stomach there was a gaping hole. Why was he running so behind? Why hadn't he responded to the text I sent him? Why was he not using his phone?

I reached for a piece of bread in the hopes that it would help ease the discomfort in my stomach. By the time it was nine, I had only taken one bite, and then I shredded the remainder into pieces the size of grains and sprinkled them over my pasta. There was a significant problem with something. It's been hours and he still hasn't returned. I was required to call someone, but who should it be? I had no choice but to refrain from calling Angie to inquire as to whether or not Ryder had reported for duty. I was unable to ask Samantha if she had received any word from him. I did not have the contact information for his friends.

It would be insanity to begin dialing hospital emergency rooms. It was completely out of the question to involve the police.

I must have unlocked my phone a dozen times in a row because I couldn't shake the feeling that something needed to be done. Any given action But I couldn't come up with a single idea for what to do. Suddenly, the seclusion that characterized our romance was neither enticing nor exciting anymore. If it had been any other potential romantic partner, I would have a long list of potential references ready to go. To begin, we have some friends in common. If I had no other choice, mothers. And it wouldn't have been surprising, because a girlfriend would have naturally been concerned when her boyfriend didn't show up home.

However, Ryder was not my boyfriend at the time.

He was both more and less at the same time. To me, there is an infinite amount more. However, to the rest of the world, he was simply my boss. The biological parent of one of my closest friends. Certainly not someone about whom I ought to keep fretting after the office has closed.

That is something that needs to be altered. Even though the baby had already proven that it was going to happen, I didn't want to announce the pregnancy until at least twelve weeks had passed or whenever it would be prudent to do so. I felt it was important for everyone to be aware that I had a claim on Ryder. that I was responsible for worrying about his well-being. If only he were still mine to keep. I did my best to contain the mounting anxiety by biting the inside of my lower lip.

He had no problems. Obviously, he was in perfect health.

In a millisecond from now, I'd—

When I heard the soft chime of the elevator carriage locking into place and the soft woosh of the door sliding open, it was as if someone had heard my prayer and answered it. I got up from the table and followed him into the kitchen, where I found him just as he was entering. My desire to ask, "Where have you been?" was almost at the forefront of my mind. But even in my head, it sounded like an irate wife. I couldn't shake the impression. I was able to get it down. Instead, I told her that I was concerned about her well-being.

My body had begun to respond to the release of the tension that had been building up by producing tingling and a feeling of lightheadedness. When I finally got a good look at his face, however, I became completely still. Ryder had returned home, but despite this, there was still a significant issue. It appeared as though he was wearing a mask. When he looked at me, it was as if I were a complete stranger in his eyes.

The voice of the stranger said, "There is no need for you to be concerned about me."

I approached him with the curiosity of a child who was attempting to determine whether or not the Easter Bunny costume belonged to a real person. "Ryder, what is the matter?" I asked. I couldn't help myself; I instinctively wrapped an arm around my stomach as if the fragile life growing there required protection. But that was completely insane. This is Ryder, by the way.

But Ryder would have noticed the wine breathing on the counter and the candles flickering outside, which stood out brightly against the bruising twilight, and he would have asked, "What's all this?" The eyes of the stranger wandered aimlessly over the scene, taking in both it and me. "Why are you even in this place?"

"What am I—" I stumbled over my words. "I had the impression that we were going to eat dinner together."

"Were we? I forgot."

His tone conveyed not even the slightest hint of feeling. Anger lit inside me. It was inevitable that he would notice the effort that I had put forth. Surely he was aware that he had misrepresented the time that he would arrive by two hours. And I'm sure he was aware that I would be concerned about him. He was aware of that reality regardless of whether or not the rest of the world was.

I strengthened myself by placing my hands on my hips and digging my fingers into the bones of my hips. I was required to ask him a question, and I was anxious about the response that I would receive. "Ryder, what the bloody hell is going on here? Are you with someone, or were you with someone?

I hoped that by asking him the question, he would be jolted out of this odd trance. I hoped that when he looked at me with his real eyes, he'd say, "For fucks sake, Lexie, of course I wasn't with anyone else. You are already aware of how I feel about you. It was the pits at work."

But rather than that, he raised one shoulder. Casually. Elegantly. Cruelly. It appeared as though he was annoyed that I was asking, as one of the corners of his mouth twisted down.

My stomach did a complete flip. It made me feel sick to my stomach. When I said it in such a feeble manner, "I thought you loved me," I couldn't believe it was my own voice.

"You did?" His eyes passed over my features without any sign of emotion. “Why?”

Why? Why? Well, there are a million different reasons. The manner in which he touched me. The way that he looked at me was strange. the things that we had discussed and shared with one another. But something clicked into place for me when I noticed the way he was looking at me at the moment and how he wasn't touching me. I had told him that I loved him, but he had never told me the same thing in return. To be honest, no.

"Because I'm an idiot," I said in that voice that wasn't mine at all and sounded completely different. Too high-pitched. The syllables writhed in agony as they were strangled. As I walked by him and pressed the button to call the elevator, he was staring at me. I was afraid that he would try to grab me as I walked by. As the door began to slide open, I had the impression that he had said, "Oh come on, don't leave."

But he did not engage in any of those activities. He only turned his head slightly to watch me leave with a passing interest. The candles on the table on the terrace behind him continued to flicker even after he had left. The infernal red glow of the city lights burning below the clouds served as an underlighting for the clouds. In front of that backdrop, he resembled the devil more and more. He gave the impression that the pain that was clearly written all over my face meant nothing at all.

I suppressed the urge to cry right up until the moment that the elevator door shut and sealed the space between us. The stony core of my animosity was what gave me the strength to do it, but as soon as the elevator started pulling me down and away from him, it vanished. By the time the door to the lobby opened, the tears were streaming down my face in uncontrollable rivers by the time the door opened.

Even if he was the very embodiment of evil. Even if I have grown to despise him now. I still loved him.

And I was terrified that I would continue to do so.