Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (23 page)

Chapter 27

Ryan
stayed late. We watched a movie, and he massaged my back through my shirt. I had the urge to curl up against him, but I didn’t. I just got him back as a friend, and I would be crazy to push that boundary. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mom had said something to him about me missing him. If something she’d said had prompted his visit.

When he left
, I wasn’t sure where we would go from here. It felt different. For the first time, there was no craziness from other relationships surrounding us. I realized how important his friendship was to me; it was no longer dispensable. I was afraid to talk to him about what I was feeling, feelings foreign to me where he was concerned. The butterflies had come alive while he was over, flipping and spinning, swarming into my heart, which I hadn’t anticipated at all. I was relieved when he called me the next day and asked if I wanted to go to a movie the following weekend.

The next few months would be like a swan dance in slow motion.
Ryan and I went to the movies, dinner, for a walk, played tennis, whatever; we were together. We talked and laughed, and we enjoyed our time with each other. I was thrilled to have him back in my life, to have someone who understood me and who I could communicate with so easily. He crept into my thoughts almost constantly, and I couldn’t wait to see him when we made plans.

It w
asn’t until the train wreck had already happened that I realized it had been coming down the track all along. It was late November, and Ryan and I went to dinner. I remember thinking at the table I want to be with him, want to sleep with him, want to hold him, but I pushed it down, pushed it down as reckless. We had tried to reestablish the boundaries in our relationship, friends, and yet I didn’t like the boundaries all of a sudden.

I drove him
back to his place after dinner. I had wrestled with my emotions all evening, at times making it hard for me to follow our conversation. I was distracted as I drove, and my thoughts were spinning out of control. I was trying to grab hold of what I was feeling. I thought maybe it was loneliness overwhelming me, although I didn’t think it was that. It was a chilly night, and I shivered when I got out of the car to say goodnight. He pulled me to him and hugged me, trying to keep me warm. I buried my face against his shoulder and started to cry.

“What
?” he asked, pushing me away to look at my face.

When I looked into his eyes
, my feelings completely overwhelmed me. I wasn’t sure how to say it. I searched his concerned face. I felt like I might throw up. It was hard to breathe.

“
Ryan,” I whispered, bending over, putting my hands on my knees, sucking air into my lungs.

“
Morgan, what is it? What can I do?” he asked, scared.

“Give me
,” I said between breaths, “a minute.”

I could feel my heart racing and realized I was p
anicking. Ryan gently rubbed my back as I looked at the ground. It raced toward my heart, the sensation, except this time, when it hit me, I understood what it was. I understood that somewhere deep within me, I was learning it along the way. I walked away from Ryan, down the street, and then back again. I leaned on the back of my car and just stared at him.

“What is it?”
Ryan asked again. “You’re scaring me, Morgan.”

Confused and concerned
, he put his arm around me. I stared into the night. The streetlights lining the street glowed dimly. I bit my lip. I knew what I needed to say.

“
Ryan, you and I have been friends, and then more than friends. We have shared so much and supported each other. There are times that we haven’t liked each other or gotten along. What I didn’t realize until tonight is that you are everything I’ve ever said I was looking for, that if I made a list, you would be the guy who matched it. The guy who does match it, the guy I want to match it,” I choked out.

When I looked up at
Ryan, his expression was not what I wanted to see. I saw fear. It instantly shot a pain through my heart. I sucked in a deep breath, again feeling nauseous. I couldn’t go on with what I wanted to say.

“I have to go
,” I said, moving toward the driver’s door.

“
Morgan,” he followed me. “It’s so much. I don’t know what to say.”

He opened my car
door for me hesitantly, and I got in.

“I don’t
either,” I said, pulling the door shut and starting the car.

I was shaking as I drove away.
I watched him in my rear view mirror standing at the curb, a shadow against the dark night. He hadn’t moved when I turned the corner. It wasn’t what I expected. Not my feelings to reveal themselves like that, nor his sense of fear in hearing them. I wanted to cry, and the tears wouldn’t even come.
What was I thinking? That he would be happy about my feelings? He would feel the same? Oh my god, you stupid girl
resounded in my head. I managed to get all the way home before I threw up in my carport.

My answering machine was blinking when I came into the condo.
I pressed the button to listen.

“
Morgan,” he paused, “it’s Ryan. I wanted to make sure you got home okay, call me.”

H
is voice played out and stopped. I sat down on the floor next to the bed and rocked myself. I took a risk and expressed my feelings, feelings I hadn’t even clearly identified until tonight. I wanted to be with Ryan, he was the one, I realized. When the phone rang, it startled me. I looked at it, afraid to answer. I let the answering machine get it.

“
Morgan, it’s Mom, pick up the phone…”

I picked up the phone.

“I’m here,” I said meekly.

“Do you want me to come?”
she asked.

“No
,” I said. “Did Ryan call you?”

“Yes
,” she said. “He’s worried about you.”

“Why’s he worried
?” I asked.

“He said you two had a
misunderstanding. What was the misunderstanding?” she asked.

I couldn’t stop the tears
. They just came, and I knew she could hear it. She let me cry and waited for me to answer.

“Mom
, I have to get a Kleenex,” I sniffed, putting the phone down and going into the bathroom.

I
caught my reflection in the mirror, my eyes puffy and red, mascara running under them. My hands trembled as I wiped it away. I got the Kleenex and went back to the phone.

“The
misunderstanding…” I said. “Mom, I’m not sure what misunderstanding he’s talking about.”

The tears flooded
out again, my body shaking in sobs. When I finally got them under control, I could barely get it out.

“I love him
, Mom. I realized tonight that I’m crazy in love with him, and oh, big surprise, he doesn’t feel the same,” I choked through the tears.

“Did you tell him you loved him?” she asked
softly.

I could envision the
distressed look on her face.

“I didn’t say
love
exactly, but I think I made it pretty clear that I have strong feelings. I couldn’t get to
love
when I saw that what I had said scared him,” I said. “Oh, Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

Chapter 28

I was consistent about going to the gym, but now I went obsessively. I would wake up at four thirty and be there by five. I worked out and ran and then went to school and work. Ryan left messages on my answering machine that I didn’t return. I stayed out of his path.

“Call him,”
Liz encouraged. “Listen to what he has to say, maybe he didn’t understand what you meant.”

“You sound like my
mom. What could he have to say? If he felt the same, he should be at my door, belting it out. I saw fear, Liz, not happiness. How do I erase my feelings and go back to just being friends? How could I see him and not wish it were something more? Why is love so fucking fucked up?” I said angrily.

“Give him time,” she
coached as she wrapped an arm around me. “You shocked him. You didn’t see it coming, why should he have?”

“Don’t be so
god damned rational,” I sighed.

I avoided him for two weeks before he
showed up at The Chart House. He sat at the bar, and although I wanted to ignore him, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. In understanding my feelings for him, this time I had put distance between us. I was busy at work, and I couldn’t talk; it made me nervous to have him here. He watched me and nursed a vodka tonic.

“What brings you
here?” I asked, being smart as I garnished another tray of cocktails.

             
I thought feigning indifference might protect me. Maybe I could pretend it was a misunderstanding, pretend away my feelings.

             
“You,” he said. “Why won’t you call me back?”

             
His look was pained.

             
“Ryan, I can’t talk about this while I’m working,” I said, hoping he might go.

             
“I’ll wait till you’re not,” he said.

             
“Whatever. Whatever you want,” I said softly, picking up my tray and heading out of the bar.

             
I focused on my job and tried not to look at him, but I could feel his eyes following me. When I finally clocked out, I sat down next to him at the bar.

             
“What do you want, Ryan?” I asked, exasperated.

             
“I want to talk about that night. I wasn’t prepared to hear what you had to say. I wasn’t expecting it,” he said.

“Obviously
,” I said sarcastically.

             
He ignored my attitude.

“I was taken aback by it.
I’ve thought about your words a lot, and I guess you were trying to say that you have feelings for me,” he said. “I mean more than
friend
feelings.”

             
I laughed quietly.

“I guess that is what I was trying to say.
You weren’t real receptive, though,” I said recalling the feeling that night of being punched in the stomach.

I put my elbows on the bar and crossed my hands in front of me.
Luke, the bartender, sauntered over to us. He smiled his same warm smile and put his foot up on the rail behind the bar, leaning towards us.

“
Morgan, I’m suspecting you’ll have the usual, baby sister,” he said imitating John Wayne’s voice.

Luke was like a big teddy bear
with a great sense of humor. He had light freckles on his face and arms, which still showed through his tan. His hair was reddish blond and wispy, and he had green eyes that danced. I enjoyed his personality immensely; he could make me laugh. You just had to look at him to know there was some devil in him, the good kind of devil.

“Luke
, I would love the usual and a shot of tequila. That should take the edge off,” I said, rotating my stiff neck.

             
He chuckled and went about pouring. Bartenders always seemed to be good listeners, and Luke was no exception. I’d talked to him some about Ryan. He knew I had feelings for him; I hadn’t confided that it had turned into love. When he set both drinks down in front of me, I downed the shot.

             
“Another, bartender,” I said.

             
“You ready, Ryan?” Luke asked.

             
“Sure,” Ryan said shaking his empty glass.

             
Ryan’s drink and the second shot came, and I downed that too. Luke cocked his head at me, his eyes squinting, questioning.

“One more
, Luke,” I said, pushing the shot glass forward.

             
“Are you trying to prove you can get drunk or what?” Ryan asked.

             
“Or what,” I said with a hint of belligerence.

             
Luke took his time bringing me the third shot. I could tell he was dragging his feet, not happy about getting it for me. When he set it down, his lips were tight and he rubbed his forehead rapidly, that
what the hell, girl
look.

             
I let it sit. I could feel the liquor starting to take me down a notch, relaxing the tension in my shoulders, the tension in my mind. I stared into my wine glass. I was sad Ryan had come. I didn’t want to dissect my feelings anymore; it hurt too much. I’d had time to think, so had he, and his thoughts whatever they were weren’t the same obviously. I felt like the butterflies wings had been crushed.

I
decided I’d sleep on Luke’s sailboat tonight, where he called home. He was my buddy, and I had done it before when I didn’t want to drive home after a late shift. I wasn’t loaded yet, but I would be. I wouldn’t drive, wouldn’t chance it. I could feel the pressure at the back of my eyes; feel the knot in my stomach. I picked up the shot and drank it.

“I’ll be right back
,” I said, excusing myself.

             
I went to the bathroom and into a stall, sliding the latch, locking the door. I took a deep breath and turned around several times, tilting my face up to the ceiling, hoping it would clear my thoughts. I sat down on the seat and tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to run. No, I should face whatever it was, or wasn’t, between us, hear what he had to say. I walked back to the bar and got on the stool. Luke moved to the other side of the bar, sensing the tension, and I focused on him to avoid looking at Ryan.

             
“I’m not sure about my feelings, and I’m afraid,” he started.

             
“Afraid?” I said, turning to look at him.

             
He stared back at me, his blue eyes serious. I could see dismay in his expression.

             
“Morgan, you threw your feelings out there like I knew. You’ve never viewed me as anything but a friend, and all of a sudden you switch gears, how was I to see that coming? And yes, I’m afraid. I don’t know if I understand your feelings, and what you want from me. And if you want more from me, I’m afraid I’ll ruin things, lose your friendship, and your mom’s friendship,” he said.

The hurt
rose up in me. So that’s what his visit was about, losing friendships. In a way, I thought he’d always loved me, but that I was the one not open to more. I thought when I told him my feelings, he would be happy, happy I finally figured it out, finally loved the good guy.
I’d certainly misread it.
I took a drink of my wine. It tasted bitter after the tequila making me wrinkle my nose. I watched Luke make two more drinks for the couple across the bar, and I twirled my wine glass as I considered what Ryan had said.

             
My feelings, without me being aware, had progressed to love; I wasn’t sure I could go back. I was never good at backing my feelings down, making them go away. They’d slowly developed over time, four years of time with Ryan.

I’d spent
years looking in a million different directions for love, all the wrong directions. He’d been right in front of me since our first meeting in Park City. It had hit me so hard the night I started to tell him. I remembered the jumbled feelings at the restaurant, and when he took me in his arms in front of his place, god, I could see us standing there on the curb, the expression on his face after I’d said what I said.

My mind raced back to
Mathew, and I wondered why men I fell totally in love with wanted to be friends, men who could sleep with their friend, but not love her. My emotions were too new and too raw to contain. I couldn’t stop the words before they spilled out.

“
Ryan, you won’t lose my friendship, but it’s got to change. We need to spend less time together and no more sleeping together. I can’t go from being a friend to a lover, and then back again anymore. Not with you, not with anyone,” I said miserably.

I reached for my wine
, and Ryan pushed it away.

             
“Morgan, you don’t need it,” Ryan said. “You’ve already had three shots. Can I please drive you home?”

             
“I don’t need it, but I want it,” I protested. “And no, you can’t drive me home, Luke’s taking me home.”

             
I said it, wanting to elicit some form of emotional response, for Ryan to break down and profess he had strong feelings too, to attempt a start.

Luke
’s right eyebrow went up, and I knew he’d heard me. He was my favorite bartender at work, and he could tell I was trying to torture Ryan. Make him wonder. In the past, Ryan had questioned me about my relationship with Luke. I’d talked to Ryan about our antics at work, how Luke made me laugh, made a shift fun.

I
had told Ryan that Luke and I were strictly friends, but I wasn’t sure he believed me. As Ryan knew,
friends
could mean a whole lot of things. Nothing had ever happened between Luke and me; he was like a big brother, and that’s how I thought of him. I certainly wasn’t going to say anything to reassure Ryan of that now, though.

“You’re going to his boat?”
Ryan asked as he fidgeted slightly on his barstool.

“Yeah
, it’s just down the street. It’s a small sailboat, but he has room for me. He can bring me back in the morning to get my car,” I said with a slow flip of my hair over my shoulder.

Ryan
’s eyes narrowed at me, his expression one of displeasure.

“
I’m willing to drive you home, to your place,” he protested.

As much as I would have liked that, I knew I would be hoping for more and right now there wasn’t more to be had.

“I don’t want you to, end of discussion,” I said as I twisted away from him, toward Luke.