A Love Like This (46 page)

“Oh, yes Ryan… finally.”

I sucked in my breath and pried my resistant
eyes open. I felt like they were glued shut, and it took three
attempts. Fingers pulled on the back of my head and wet lips slid
over mine. It was unfamiliar, the mouth too lax, too sloppy to be
Julia’s.

“Kiss me, Ryan. I want you so bad.”

I struggled to focus in the dark room, and
finally, the voice registered in my sleepy mind.

“What the fuck? Did you think I wouldn’t
know you weren’t her?” I shoved the woman from my lap and scrambled
up from the bed. She reached for me, but I backed away, stumbling
until I was leaning up against the opposite wall of the tiny room.
“Get out.” I put my hand over my eyes unable to stand looking at
the woman I now loathed.

“Ryan,” Jane began. “Just a second ago you
wanted me.”

“A second ago, I was dreaming about my
wife
!” I yelled at her. “What the fuck are you trying to do?
Destroy my whole fucking life?” The sleeping pill was making my
mind foggy and was hard to not fall on my ass. “I said, get out!” I
hollered.

She stood and closed the space between us,
her hand coming toward me. “Ryan, you told me that I deserved
someone to love me.” She started to cry in earnest. “You… said I
was beautiful and desirable. I know you want me.”

I flung her hand away in disgust and moved
around behind her, opening the door to the room. “That’s bullshit
and you know it, Jane! I said that in a subjective way, as in there
is someone out there for you, but I sure as hell didn’t mean me! I
don’t even believe that Daniel was in a relationship with you. He
sure as shit didn’t act like it that one time I saw him in your
room. You’re delusional!”

She stared at me with wide, teary eyes, and
I didn’t feel one pang of sympathy. I couldn’t stand the sight of
her.

“Please go. I’m half asleep. I need you to
leave.
Now!
” I waved through the open door.

She physically started when I shouted the
word. “But you said… you said…” Tears tumbled down her face, the
mixture of darkness and the light from the main room casting her
face and body into shadows.

“
I said; I’m. Married
!” I grabbed her
arm and yanked her out of the little room, letting go of her like
her flesh burned mine and horrified about what almost happened. “Do
you know the damage you’ve done to my life?”

“I saved you.”

“Bullshit! You wrecked me, but I’ll be
damned if I let it happen anymore. Stay away from me; stay away
from Julia!”

I went back in and slammed the door in her
face, my chest heaving. I threw the lock in place and fell heavily
on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees and both
hands in my hair. I was physically exhausted and mentally shaken by
what just happened, and the sleeping pill made my eyes heavy. My
heart ached that I touched Jane at all, that she was on my lap,
grinding on my dick; even if I wasn’t conscious, I felt like hell
about it. I hadn’t touched anyone but Julia since before I’d almost
kissed her on the dance floor the night I got accepted to Harvard.
I felt sick to my stomach and all the more determined to bring her
home. She belonged with me, and I was through playing these games.
From now on, I was going to follow my gut and not let my stupid,
misguided sense of duty fuck up what was important to me.

I moved to get up, anxious to get the hell
out of there. However, my head was dizzy, and I helplessly sank
back down. I wasn’t going to be able to get home until I got the
meds out of my system. I lay down on my back, pulling the blanket
over me and flinging my arm over my eyes. I hated the
drugged-induced stupor that took me out of control of my body, but
I was just so damned tired. I had no choice but to sleep it
off.

*****

I rushed up the stairs from the subway,
taking them two at a time. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I
took the last five blocks at a dead run. Once I’d woken up enough
to remember that I was going to find Julia, I started to formulate
a plan. I knew she was in Paris now, but how would I find her? The
magazine was the obvious starting point. No doubt, it was the job
she was offered last year, which worried me enough to give me
pause. Maybe she wouldn’t want to come home. I ran my hand through
my hair and dug the key out of my pocket. I had to bring her home,
no matter what her commitments were. Some things were more
important than others.

There was no getting around calling the
magazine at this point, and I dialed Julia’s office phone on my way
up the elevator. It went directly into voicemail, but it wasn’t
Julia’s voice; it was Andrea, her assistant. My mind processed it.
It meant it probably wasn’t planned. Given everything that had
happened, it was the only thing that made sense. She was running
from me, not taking the job for the job’s sake.

Thank you for calling the office of Julia
Matthews, Creative Director for Vogue New York. Julia is on
assignment out of the country until further notice. For magazine
related business, please contact Denise Schrader at 718-586-705. If
this is an emergency, please contact Andrea King via my cell, at
212-867-9388.

I ran the number over and over in my head as
I ended the call and started another one. My thumb dialed the
number as I pushed through the door of my apartment and headed to
the bedroom.

“Andrea, this is Ryan Matthews. I know she’s
in Paris, and I’m on my way there. Can you please tell me where I
can find her? I’d appreciate you keeping this between us.
Thanks.”

After I left the message, I shrugged out of
my coat and left it on the couch. I’d peeled off the shirt to my
scrubs before I’d reached the bedroom. Ten minutes and a quick
shower later, I threw on my black silk boxers and sat down at the
laptop to book my flight. I didn’t dick around with Expedia or
other fare fighter sites, I went directly to the airline and found
the next available flight that still gave me enough time to get to
the airport and through security. I’d set my wallet next to the
computer and whipped out my American Express card. Before I could
finish booking my flight, my phone buzzed. The number I’d called
before flashed without a name. Andrea was texting.

OMG! I’m so glad to hear from
you
.

Fear closed in around my heart as my thumbs
flew across the keys on my iPhone.

Is she okay?

Barely.

What’s wrong?

Flu. And really down. When will you be
here?

I sighed in relief.

My plane leaves in about 3 hours. It’s a
direct flight, but with the time difference, I land about 8 AM,
Paris time, Sunday morning. If the flight’s on time.

I finished my reservation while I waited for
Andrea’s response.

We’re staying at L’Empire Paris. Sunday
morning, she’ll be at a café at 9 or 10… she always goes. I can’t
remember the name, but I’ll find out. Unless you want to wait at
the hotel? I’ll get both addresses and text you later. Have a safe
flight!

I wrote down the confirmation number for my
flight on an old receipt I found stuffed in my wallet and noted I
had about a hundred and twenty dollars cash. I’d most likely need
more. Surely, they’d have currency exchange at the airport. Credit
cards were always an option. I picked up the phone and slammed out
my last response to Andrea.

Thanks. Pls send the name of the café when
you can. Don’t tell her I’m coming. Pls.

Her response was fast.

I won’t!

Thanks, again.

All that was left was to pack. Problem was,
I hadn’t done much laundry. I went into the closet and pulled down
my suitcase. I didn’t need this big damn thing, but my duffle was
stored inside. I only planned on taking a couple of things. I threw
it across the unmade bed and swiftly unzipped it, flinging open the
top, and went to gather a couple pair of jeans, a handful of
T-shirts, I pulled one button-down out of the closet—hanger and
all, my black shoes, and a belt. I got dressed in a hurry, and sat
on the bed next to the suitcase to pull on my white socks. The
place was a mess, but given the events of the past few weeks, I
hadn’t cleaned a thing. Laundry piled up, dishes in the sink, a
thick coating of dust on the furniture, and the trash overflowed.
I’d have to take that out or the place would stink to high heaven
when we got back.

I realized I was starting to think in ‘we’
again, but I was nervous. If I were honest with myself, I wasn’t
sure she’d come home with me willingly. We hadn’t talked since the
night after she left. I huffed. I had no one to blame but myself
for not answering her calls and texts, but I was so damn angry and
hurt. I’d never wanted to hurt her before this, and the fact that I
had deliberately cut her off, nagged at my gut. I’d most likely
regret it; however, I still struggled with her lack of trust.

I lifted the duffle out of the suitcase,
ready to stuff the pile of clothes waiting on the bed into it.
Beneath it was a package; glimmering gold wrapping paper and a
filmy red ribbon with gold sparkling edges. It was beautifully
wrapped and had Julia’s stamp all over it. My focus shifted from
packing as I lifted it out of the suitcase. There wasn’t a name on
it, but then, we never put names on the gifts we gave each other.
My hand ran lightly over the edges. Obviously, it was a frame.

I slid to the floor and leaned against the
foot of the bed, the package in my lap. My heart quickened and felt
heavy in my chest. I sat, realizing this was why Julia got so upset
on Christmas Eve. It was more than the shoes from Jane; it was more
than our interrupted evening. Tears burned the back of my eyes
before I even opened it. It was going to be something profound. I
felt it in the depths of my soul. Something she’d drawn. My hands
were shaking. I was almost scared to open it, afraid it would slice
me open, but I had to know what was inside.

Slowly, I forced myself to pull off the
ribbon. I leaned my head back on the edge of the bed and closed my
eyes. Not looking, I ripped through the center of the paper, so
when I looked down, I’d have no choice but to see what it was. I
swallowed hard and forced myself to look at what I held in my
hands.

My breath stopped and tears started to roll
as my hand traced the little cherub face through the glass.

“Oh, my God.” I could see us both in that
face. My eyes, but green, little dimples, the shape of her face… My
heart slammed against my ribs, and I felt like steel bands were
wrapped around my lungs, preventing me from breathing. I pulled the
picture to my chest and sobbed my heart out. She couldn’t have
given me anything that could mean more than this. Just as I’d
written her that poem, she’d poured her heart into this knowing how
much it would mean to me. I wiped my eyes and nose on a dirty
T-shirt laying next to the bed, then rose to my feet, pushing the
rest of the paper off the corners and letting it fall to the
floor.

I set it on the bed, staring at it. I shook
my head and blinked at the tears still clinging to my lashes. Then
I shoved my clothes in the duffle and zipped it closed, flung it
over my shoulder, and grabbed my coat, phone and keys. Stopping, I
ran back into the bedroom and dug around in my underwear drawer
until my hand landed on the passport shoved in the back.

“I would have been fucked if I’d forgotten
you,” I mumbled and jammed it in the inside breast pocket of my
coat. I fumbled at the door, my shaking hands struggling to lock
it. I flew down the stairs, not bothering with the elevator, and
stood in the middle of the street so the cab coming at me had no
choice but to stop.

“Hey, buddy, can’t you see?” He pointed to
the top of his cab where his light was off. “I’m not taking fares
right now.”

I opened the door anyway and slid in anyway.
“This is an emergency. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you’ll take
me to JFK.”

I held up the bill between two fingers and
handed it to him through the small hole in the plexiglass divider.
He took it and nodded. “International terminal. Air France.”

I felt better after I’d made the decision to
return to Ryan but my stomach fluttered in apprehension of my talk
with Meredith. She’d be furious, and I didn’t know if the publisher
in New York would give me my job back or if I’d even have a job.
One thing my stupid little stint had proven was that Ryan was all
that mattered. I knew it before, but the time apart hammered it
into my heart like never before. I didn’t care if we were homeless
and starving, the only way I could be happy was if we were
together. If that meant I had to suck up the crap with Jane, I’d
learn to deal with it.