Page 40 of Reaching Ryan

Chapter Eighteen

Grace

I’ve received a bit of a miracle.

Not only did Molly sleep another forty-five minutes after we got home, she actually asked to go to bed after dinner. I even had to talk her into a bath beforehand, which she usually loves.

Not tonight.

Tonight she barely let me get the shampoo rinsed out of her hair before she announced she was ready for bed.

I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with the My Little Pony sheets and comforter set we bought for her new bed.

“Can we go back tomorrow?” she asks, her blue eyes droopy and faded with sleep.

“Go where?” I say, even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’s asking me for and proves it when she rolls her eyes at me.

“To see Ryan.” Her tiny fingers trace the outline of a candy-colored cartoon pony. “He’s lonely in that place,” she tells me, looking up at me with a gaze that’s gone solemn. “I think he needs us, Mom.”

I think it’s best for both of us if you stay away the fuck away from me.

He doesn’t need us.

He doesn’t want us.

I almost say it. I almost tell her that Ryan doesn’t want anything to do with us. Instead I give her a soft smile and tuck her freshly laundered sheets around her. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

I’m sure she’s going to argue with me. Set her jaw at that mulish angle of hers and dig in until she gets the answer she’s looking for.

She doesn’t.

“Okay.” She gives me a sweet, sleepy smile and sinks back into the mountain of pillow with a small sigh. “I love you, Mom.”

Leaning over her, I kiss her forehead. “I love you too.” I whisper it because if I say it any louder, my voice will show signs of cracking.

She’s asleep before I close the door behind me.

Now, standing in the middle of the living room, I realize I’m alone. Will be alone for the rest of the evening and I have no idea what to do with myself. Cari texted earlier to tell me that Patrick booked them a suite at the Hawthorne for the night. That means I’m home alone for the rest of the night.

Not entirely sure what to do with myself, I take a shower and change into my comfy clothes, pajama pants and the T-shirt Grace hand-painted me for Mother’s Day last year. After that, I rummage around in the pantry until I find Cari’s stash of junk food. Grabbing a bag of chips, I rip them open and prepare for a night of channel surfing when the door buzzer sounds off, signaling that someone is on the street, looking to be let in.

Scrambling over the back of the couch, I streak across the dining area and past the kitchen, pushing the intercom button before whoever is down there sets off another round of loud, annoying buzzing.

“Hello?”

I sound breathless. Anxious. I don’t understand why until the person on the other end of the intercom answers me.

“Hi, Grace, it’s Henley. Can I come up for a minute?”

Breath and anxiety leave me in a fast, dizzying rush. That’s when I realize it. That I was hoping it was him. Ryan. I was hoping he came looking for me. That he feels bad for the way things ended between us and he came to apologize.

Apologize?

You want him to come here and apologize? You seriously think that’s what you want? Come on, Grace—lie all you want to everyone else. Just don’t lie to yourself.

“Sure,” I answer back, shoving my traitorous thoughts aside, I buzz her in with an index finger stabbed against the green button. Downstairs, I hear a faint hum followed by the click of the hefty magnetic lock disengaging. Seconds later, the sound is replaced with the sharp, efficient click of Henley’s spiked heels as she makes her way upstairs.

While I listen to her approach, I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing here. Surely she knows that Cari isn’t here. That her and Patrick had to leave their own home for the night, just so they could have some time alone with each other. I mean, everyone in this family seems to know everything about everyone else. There’re no secrets here. Nowhere to hide.

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