The title reads "Best new businesses in Boston. Votes are in for your top ten!"
I smile and almost spill my coffee when Ryle pulls me in, picks me up, and spins me around.
He said he had three pieces of news, and if he started with that one, I have no idea what the other two could be. "What's the second thing?"
He sets me back down on my feet and says, "I started with the best one. I was too excited." He takes a sip of his coffee and then says, "I got selected for the training at Cambridge."
My face is taken over by a huge smile. "You did?" He nods and then he hugs me and spins me around again. "I'm so proud of you," I say, kissing him. "We're both so successful, it's sickening."
He laughs.
"Number three?" I ask him.
He pulls back. "Oh, yeah. Number three." He casually leans against the counter and takes a slow sip of his coffee. He gently places his coffee back on the counter. "Allysa is in labor."
"What?!" I yell.
"Yeah." He nods toward our coffees. "That's why I brought you caffeine. We aren't getting any sleep tonight."
I start clapping, jumping up and down, and then panicking as I try to find my purse, my jacket, my keys, my phone, the light switch. Right before we make it to the door, Ryle rushes back to the counter and grabs the newspaper and tucks it under his arm. My hands are shaking with excitement as I lock the door.
"We're gonna be aunts!" I say as I run to my car.
Ryle laughs at my joke and says, "Uncles, Lily. We're gonna be uncles."
*
Marshall calmly steps out into the hallway. Ryle and I both perk up and wait for the news. It's been quiet in there for the past half an hour. We've been waiting to hear Allysa scream in agony--a sign she delivered--but there were no sounds at all. Not even the cries of a newborn. My hands go up to my mouth and seeing the look on Marshall's face has me fearing the worst.
His shoulders just start shaking and tears pour out of his eyes. "I'm a dad." And then he punches the air. "I'm a DAD!"
He hugs Ryle and then me and says, "Give us fifteen minutes and you can come inside to meet her."
When he closes the door, Ryle and I both release huge sighs of relief. We look at each other and smile. "You were thinking the worst, too?" he asks.
I nod and then hug him. "You're an uncle," I say, smiling.
He kisses my head and says, "You too."
Half an hour later, Ryle and I are both standing next to the bed, watching Allysa hold her new baby. She's absolutely perfect. A little too new to tell who she looks like yet, but she's beautiful, regardless.
"You want to hold your niece?" Allysa says to Ryle.
He kind of stiffens up like he's nervous, but then he nods. She leans over and puts the baby in Ryle's arms, showing him how to hold her. He stares down at her nervously and then walks over to the couch and takes a seat. "Have you guys decided on a name yet?" he asks.
"Yes," Allysa says.
Ryle and I both look at Allysa and she smiles, teary eyed. "We wanted to name her after someone Marshall and I both think the world of. So we added an E to your name. We're calling her Rylee."
I instantly look back over at Ryle and he blows out a quick breath like he's a little in shock. He looks back down at Rylee and just starts smiling. "Wow," he whispers. "I don't know what to say."
I squeeze Allysa's hand and then walk over and take a seat next to Ryle. I've had a lot of moments when I thought I couldn't love him more than I already do, but once again I'm proven wrong. Seeing the way he looks at his new baby niece makes my heart expand.
Marshall sits down on the bed next to Allysa. "Did you guys hear how quiet Issa was through the whole thing? Not a single peep. She didn't even take drugs." He puts his arm around her and lies down next to her on the bed. "I feel like I'm in that movie Hancock with Will Smith and I'm about to find out I'm married to a superhero."
Ryle laughs. "She's kicked my ass a time or two growing up. I wouldn't be surprised."
"No cussing around Rylee," Marshall says.
"Ass," Ryle whispers to her.
We both laugh and then he asks me if I want to hold her. I make like I have grabby hands because waiting for my turn has been killing me. I pull her into my arms and am shocked by how much love I have for her already.
"When are Mom and Dad coming in?" Ryle asks Allysa.
"They'll be here by lunch tomorrow."
"I should probably get some sleep then. Just got off a long shift." He looks back at me. "You coming with?"
I shake my head. "I want to hang out for a little while longer. Just take my car and I'll catch a cab home."
He kisses me on the side of my head and then rests his head against mine as we both look down at Rylee. "I think we should make one of these," he says.
I glance up at him, not sure if I heard him correctly.
He winks. "If I'm asleep when you get home later, wake me up. We'll start on it tonight." He tells Marshall and Allysa goodbye and Marshall walks him out.
I glance over at Allysa and she's smiling. "I told you he'd want babies with you."
I grin and walk back over to her bed. She scoots over and makes room for me. I hand Rylee back to her and we snuggle together on her bed and watch Rylee sleep, like it's the most magnificent thing we've ever seen.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It's three hours later and after ten o'clock when I make it back home. I stayed with Allysa for another hour after Ryle left and then went back to my office to finish up a few things so that I don't have to go in for the next two days. Whenever Ryle has a day off, I try to coincide my own days off with his.
The lights are off when I walk through the front door, so that means Ryle is already in bed.
The entire drive home I thought about what he'd said. I wasn't expecting this conversation to come up so soon. I'm almost twenty-five, but I had it in my head it would be at least a couple of years before we started trying for a family. I'm still not certain I'm ready for it yet, but knowing it's now something he wants someday has put me in an incredibly happy mood.
I decide to make myself a quick bite to eat before waking him up. I haven't had dinner yet and I'm starving. When I flip on the kitchen light, I scream. My hand goes to my chest and I fall against the counter. "Jesus Christ, Ryle! What are you doing?"
He's leaning with his back against the wall next to the refrigerator. His feet are crossed at the ankles and his eyes are narrowed in my direction. He's flipping something over in his fingers, staring at me.
My eyes fall to the counter to his left and I see an empty glass that probably recently held scotch. He drinks it on occasion to help him fall asleep.
I look back at him and there's a smirk on his face. My body instantly grows warm at that smile because I know what comes next. This apartment is about to become a frenzy of clothes and kisses. We've christened nearly every room since we moved in here, but the kitchen is one we haven't tackled yet.
I smile back at him, my heart still beating erratically from the shock of finding him here in the dark. His eyes fall to his hand, and I notice he's holding the Boston magnet. I brought it from the old apartment and stuck it on this fridge when we moved in.
He places it back on the fridge and taps it. "Where'd you get this?"
I look at the magnet and then back at him. The last thing I want to do is tell him that magnet came from Atlas on my sixteenth birthday. It would only bring up an already sore subject, and I'm too excited for what's about to come next between us to give him the naked truth right now.
I shrug. "I can't remember. I've had it forever."
He stares at me silently and then straightens up, taking two steps toward me. I back myself against the counter and my breath catches. His hands meet my waist and he slides them between my ass and my jeans and pulls me against him. His mouth claims mine and he kisses me while he begins to lower my jeans.
Okay. So we're doing this right now.
His lips drag down my neck as I kick off m
y shoes and then he pulls my jeans off the rest of the way.
I guess I can eat later. Christening the kitchen just became my priority.
When his mouth is back on mine, he lifts me and sets me down on the countertop, standing between my knees. I can smell the scotch on his breath, and I kind of like it. I'm already breathing heavily as his warm lips slide across mine. He takes a fistful of my hair and he tugs gently so that I'm looking up at him.
"Naked truth?" he whispers, looking at my mouth like he's about to devour me.
I nod.
His other hand begins to slide slowly up my thigh until there's nowhere left for his hand to go. He slips two warm fingers inside of me, keeping my gaze locked with his. I suck in a rush of air as my legs tighten around his waist. I begin to slowly move against his hand, moaning softly as he stares heatedly at me.
"Where did you get that magnet, Lily?"
What?
My heart feels like it begins beating in reverse.
Why does he keep asking me this?
His fingers are still moving inside of me, his eyes still look like they want me. But his hand. The hand that's wrapped in my hair begins to tug harder and I wince.
"Ryle," I whisper, keeping my voice calm, even though I'm beginning to shake. "That hurts."
His fingers stop moving, but his gaze never leaves mine. He slowly pulls his fingers out of me and then brings his hand up around my throat, squeezing gently. His lips meet mine and his tongue dives inside my mouth. I take it, because I have no idea what's going through his head right now and I pray I'm overreacting.
I can feel him hard against his jeans as he presses into me. But then he pulls back. His hands leave me entirely as he flattens his back against the refrigerator, scraping his eyes over my body like he wants to take me right here in the kitchen. My heart begins to calm down. I'm overreacting.
He reaches beside him, next to the stove, and he picks up a newspaper. It's the same newspaper he showed me earlier, with the awards article printed in it. He holds it up, then tosses it toward me. "Did you get a chance to read that yet?"
I blow out a breath of relief. "Not yet," I say, my eyes falling to the article.
"Read it out loud."
I glance up at him. I smile, but my stomach is anxious. There's something about him right now. The way he's acting. I can't put my finger on it.
"You want me to read the article?" I ask. "Right now?"
I feel odd, sitting on my kitchen counter half naked, holding a newspaper. He nods. "I'd like you to take off your shirt first. Then read it out loud."
I stare at him, trying to gauge his behavior. Maybe the scotch has made him extra frisky. A lot of times when we make love, it's as simple as making love. But occasionally, our sex is wild. A little dangerous, like the look in his eyes right now.
I set the paper down, pull off my shirt, and then pick the paper back up. I start reading the article out loud, but he takes a step forward and says, "Not the whole thing." He flips the paper over where it starts in the middle of the article and he points to a sentence. "Read the last few paragraphs."
I look down, even more confused this time. But whatever will get us past this and into the bed . . .
"The business with the highest number of votes should come as no surprise. The iconic Bib's on Marketson opened in April of last year, quickly becoming one of the highest rated restaurants in the city, according to TripAdvisor."
I stop reading and look up at Ryle. He has poured himself more scotch and he's swallowing a sip of it. "Keep reading," he says, nudging his head at the paper in my hand.
I swallow heavily, the saliva in my mouth growing thicker by the second. I try to control the trembling of my hands as I continue reading. "The owner, Atlas Corrigan, is a two-time award-winning chef and also a United States Marine. It's no secret what the acronym for his highly successful restaurant, Bib's, stands for: Better In Boston."
I gasp.
Everything is better in Boston.
I clench my stomach, trying to keep my emotions under control as I keep reading. "But when interviewed regarding his most recent award, the chef finally revealed the true history of the meaning behind the name. 'It's a long story,' Chef Corrigan stated. 'It was an homage to someone who had a huge impact on my life. Someone who meant a lot to me. She still means a lot to me.' "
I put the newspaper on the counter. "I don't want to read anymore." My voice cracks on its way up my throat.
Ryle takes two swift steps forward and grabs the newspaper. He picks up where I left off, his voice loud and angry now. "When asked if the girl was aware he named a restaurant after her, Chef Corrigan smiled knowingly and said, 'Next question.' "
The anger in Ryle's voice makes me nauseous. "Ryle, stop it," I say calmly. "You've had too much to drink." I push past him and walk quickly out of the kitchen toward the hallway that leads to our bedroom. There's so much happening right now and I'm not sure I understand any of it.
The article never stated who Atlas was talking about. Atlas knows it was me and I know it was me, but how in the hell would Ryle put two and two together?
And the magnet. How would he know that came from Atlas just by reading that article?
He's overreacting.
I can hear him following me as I walk toward the bedroom. I swing open the door and come to a sudden halt.
The bed is littered with things. An empty moving box with the words, "Lily's stuff," written on the side of it. And then all the contents that were inside that box. Letters . . . journals . . . empty shoeboxes. I close my eyes and breathe in slowly.
He read the journal.
No.
He. Read. The. Journal.
His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, just as his fingers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder runs over my whole body. His lips meet my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream.
I try to pull away from him, but he has such a tight grip on me he doesn't even budge. The pain from his teeth piercing my collarbone rips through my shoulder and down my arm. I immediately start crying. Sobbing.
"Ryle, let me go," I say, my voice pleading. "Please. Walk away." His arms are cutting into mine as he holds me tightly from behind.
He spins me, but my eyes are still closed. I'm too scared to look at him. His hands are digging into my shoulders as he pushes me toward the bed. I start trying to fight him off of me, but it's useless. He's too strong for me. He's angry. He's hurt. And he's not Ryle.
My back meets the bed and I frantically scoot back toward the headboard, trying to get away from him. "Why is he still here, Lily?" His voice isn't as composed as it was in the kitchen. He's really angry now. "He's in everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fucking tattoo on your body that used to be my favorite goddamn part of you!"
He's on the bed now.
"Ryle," I beg. "I can explain." Tears streak down my temples and into my hair. "You're angry. Please don't hurt me, please. Walk away, and when you come back, I'll explain."
His hand grips my ankle and he yanks me until I'm beneath him. "I'm not angry, Lily," he says, his voice disturbingly calm now. "I just think I haven't proved to you how much I love you." His body comes down against mine and he takes my wrists with one hand above my head, pressing them against the mattress.
"Ryle, please." I'm sobbing, trying to push him off of me with any part of my body. "Get off me. Please."
No, no, no, no.
"I love you, Lily," he says, his words crashing against my cheek. "More than he ever did. Why can't you see that?"
My fear folds in on itself, and I become diluted with rage. All I can see when I squeeze my eyes shut is my mother crying on our old living room couc
h; my father forcing himself on top of her. Hatred rips through me and I start screaming.
Ryle tries to muffle my screams with his mouth.
I bite down on his tongue.
His forehead comes crashing down against mine.
In an instant, all the pain fades as a blanket of darkness rolls over my eyes and consumes me.
*
I can feel his breath against my ear as he mutters something inaudible. My heart is racing, my whole body is still shaking, my tears are still somehow falling and I'm gasping for air. His words are crashing against my ear, but the pain is throbbing in my head too hard for me to decipher his words.
I try to open my eyes, but it stings. I can feel something trickling into my right eye and I instantly know it's blood.
My blood.
His words begin to come into focus.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm . . ."
His hand is still pressing mine into the mattress and he's still on top of me. He's no longer trying to force himself on me.
"Lily, I love you, I'm so sorry."
His words are full of panic. He's kissing me, his lips gentle against my cheek and mouth.
He knows what he's done. He's Ryle again, and he knows what he's just done to me. To us. To our future.
I utilize his panic to my advantage. I shake my head and I whisper, "It's okay, Ryle. It's okay. You were angry, it's okay."
His lips meet mine in a frenzy and the taste of scotch makes me want to puke now. He's still whispering apologies when the room begins to fade out again.
*
My eyes are closed. We're still on the bed, but he's no longer fully on top of me. He's on his side, his arm wrapped tightly over my waist. His head is pressed against my chest. I remain stiff as I assess everything around me.
He isn't moving, but I can feel his breaths, heavy with sleep. I don't know if he passed out or if he fell asleep. The last thing I can remember is his mouth on mine, the taste of my own tears.
I lie still for several more minutes. The pain in my head begins to worsen with every minute of consciousness. I close my eyes and try to think.