Page 5 of Liberating Bells
Midterms at the high school have just finished, which means I’m pulling long evenings trying to complete the grading on my students’ midterm essays, and on top of that, gearing up the class for the final semester of materials.
Mark has beensomewhatsupportive throughout the whole thing. My boyfriend doesn’t quite understand my passion for teaching. He does well at his law firm. Well enough that I don’t have to work—a fact he never forgets to remind me of.
But what he doesn’t understand is that Ienjoyteaching. More so than anything else in my life. It’s one of the only things I have to look forward to every day.
So having him nag in my ear, especially when I’m stressed enough as it is, has me falling into retrospective silence.
“Hey,” Mark says again. “Cheer up. You’re the one who’s dragging me to this dumb birthday party. The least you could do is act like you actually want to be here.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and wince at Mark’s tone.
“Who even throws a birthday party for a one-year-old?” Mark continues to mutter. I open my eyes and glare out the window as he pulls into Juliet and Liam’s neighborhood.
“I think pretty much everyone,” I say back, trying to make my tone sound as teasing as possible.
I must succeed because Mark chuckles, and some of the tension in my shoulders relaxes. We don’t say anything else to each other as he finds a space on the road and parks his car.
Mark and I have been together for almost four years, but still, sometimes, he surprises me by getting bothered by the most minuscule things.
We each get out and walk together up to my best friend’s large Victorian-style home. I still am in awe every time I come over. Juliet has done well for herself. She just finished her residency at St. Helen’s, the primary hospital in Cedar Ridge. She is now an attending emergency room physician. Liam works part time at Bennett as the head coach for the soccer team and then freelances for an insurance agency.
“I’ll just go set this on the gift table,” I say once we’re inside, holding up the gift bag we brought for Ashton.
“I’ll go with you,” Mark says, looking around the foyer uncomfortably.
I give him a tight smile, but make my way through the living room toward the table adorned with gifts for the birthday boy.
It’s when I set the gift on the table that I feel it. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and every cell in my body comes alive. Unconsciously, my spine straightens, and I look around the room.
My stomach flip-flops when I see him.
Ryan.
I blink a few times, wondering if it’s a trick of the light, but no, he’s actually here.
“Why the fuck is he here?” Mark growls from beside me, asking the question that is burning in my mind as well. Albeit, my version was much less crude.
“I don’t—I don’t know,” I breathe, and it’s the truth.
“Did you know he was back?” he asks, as his glare snaps down to me, accusing me of something I had no part of.
I shake my head wordlessly, my eyes still glued on Ryan. As if he can feel me watching him, his gaze roams over the room and settles on me. A softness fills those eyes I used to know so well, and he watches me with interest. After a moment, he raises the beer in his hand, saluting me with a dip of his chin, and then takes a sip. His eyes never leave me.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Ryan is back? When? How? Why?
Next to me, Mark huffs in annoyance. “Great, just what we needed. You should probably steer clear of him. Don’t want to put new salt in old wounds, you know?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. I hope Mark can’t hear the way my heart thunders inside my chest or see the way my muscles have gone rigid. He traces his hand down my side and takes my hand, giving it a small squeeze.
Mark would probably fall over dead if he knew what was running through my head right now, but I can’t help it.
Ryan. Ryan. It’s Ryan. He’s here.
I take a few seconds to trail my eyes her my ex-lover across the room. I observe the broad shoulders I used to clutch and his dark hair I used to tangle my fingers in. That same sharp jawline, now with a bit of scruff that I used to press kisses to. And those eyes I would find myself getting lost in.
He looks good.
He is even more filled out since the last time I saw him, now looking more like a man rather than the boy I loved.
