Tommy throws me a look that asks, what just happened, but doesn’t say anything. She’s gone a good five minutes, and I’m stuck here listening to Tommy blather on about bullshit I could care less about.
My mind is stuck on Katie.
When she returns, our food has arrived, but she just picks at her burger, hardly eating a bite. The difference in her is extreme, and I feel terrible for it, considering I know the cause.
Only someone who has experienced that kind of loss can understand what she’s feeling, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize.
Tommy prattles on the entire time, and either he’s completely oblivious to the shift in her demeanor, or he’s trying to compensate. Regardless of the reason, I’m grateful for it because I find myself at a loss for words as well.
After dinner, Katie says she’s tired and wants to head back to the hotel. I insist on walking her, despite her protests, with the promise of meeting Tommy back at the bar.
Katie’s reticent the entire walk back, completely lost in her thoughts. When we get to her door, she turns and looks at me, and the despair I see cuts me to the quick.
I want to reach out and hug her. I want to hold her in my arms and take away every ounce of pain I see leaching from her gorgeous eyes. But I can’t do any of that with her, so I just stand here like a chump instead.
“I’m sorry about how I acted at dinner,” she laughs nervously. “I swear I’ll be better company tomorrow.”
“You were perfect.” She’s staring at the carpet. “Do you want me to stay with you?” I offer, not really knowing what else to do at this point.
Her eyes fly up to mine, and a small smile touches her lips, which I take as a personal victory.
“No. I’m just going to go sleep this off. Thank you, though. That’s…” she looks over toward the wall like she’s searching for the right words before turning her attention back to me, “really great of you. Go have fun. I’m fine. Good night, Ryan. It’s been an interesting first day with you.”
And with that, she walks into her room and shuts the door, leaving me feeling a little lost and a lot out of sorts. Wanting to comfort the girl who will never want you back is proving harder than I thought.
5
Kate
* * *
Ryan didn’t mention my mini mental-freak-out. I had woken up the next morning early as hell, hit the gym, ate breakfast in the concierge lounge and was done before eight. But when I got back to my room, I saw a text from Ryan asking if I was up for breakfast. I was surprised that he was awake early since I assumed he had stayed out late drinking with his friend Tommy, who was nice enough, I guess.
Ryan ate without me since I already had, and then we mutually agreed to move on from DC. We decide to haul it down to Nags Head, North Carolina, which is freaking beautiful.
The sand dunes and the waves are so captivating that we sit on the beach together for a few hours just staring out at the Atlantic. We end up only staying one night and don’t do much with it other than dinner and sleep, mostly because I told Ryan I really want to go to Charleston, which is a long drive.
He was fine with that. Ryan seems to be fine with everything.
I like that about him.
Ryan is driving, and we’re listening to Cold War Kids—a band I really enjoy, but haven’t heard all that much.
“What’s your favorite band, Ryan?” I ask, needing something to talk about since we’ve got a seven-hour drive ahead of us.
“Hmmm.”
He looks out his window briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. He looks so giant driving my little car, though I imagine he’d look big driving almost anything. I shift in my seat so I’m facing him, drawing my knees up and tucking them under me.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I have a favorite,” he emphasizes the word. “I like a lot of different music, and find myself listening to different things depending on my mood or where I’m at in my life.” I secretly love that answer. A lot actually.
“But you tend to listen to more indie stuff?”
It’s not really a question. Thus far, every time he’s driven, it’s been music on his phone, and it’s ranged from Arctic Monkeys, to Taking Back Sunday, to Cage the Elephant, and now Cold War Kids.
“I guess,” he shrugs before catching my eye quickly with a smirk attached to his lips. “We seem to have that in common.”
“We do,” I nod in agreement and then laugh out suddenly. “Eric used to complain every time he was in the car with me.”
Ryan tenses up, and I suddenly feel bad about bringing Eric up. I’m sure my talking about him makes Ryan apprehensive. Or uncomfortable even. People never know what to say when you talk about loved ones who are dead. Especially when they died so young and tragically, but suddenly I’m in the mood to talk about him.
I need to talk about him.
“He used to listen to only classic rock, which was okay, just not my favorite,” I smile, staring out the window at the beautiful scenery we’re passing because, damn, it’s so pretty here. My fingers play with my necklace. “That is until we had Maggie, and all she liked to hear was Radio Disney.”
“Radio Disney?”
“Yup,” I nod with wide eyes to show my suffering. “It was terrible, but she loved it and would sing along to everything, butchering the words the way only a two-year-old can.” I grin to let him know that it’s okay and that I won’t shut down on him.
“How did you meet Eric?” he asks softly, hesitantly, like just saying his name could set me off, and I feel bad about that.
I hate making people diffident with my misery, and that’s clearly what I’ve done. I make a note to suffer in silence a bit more around Ryan, who’s been nothing but nice and easygoing since we started on this strange venture together.
“His family moved down the street from me when we were twelve. My mom and I went over to welcome them to the neighborhood, and Eric and I ended up playing together all day.” I smile, thinking back on that day. He was so damn cute. So sweet and funny and perfect. “Two weeks later he asked me out for ice cream,” I shrug, because I don’t want to think about the ice cream.
“For real?” He glances over at me quickly before looking back out to the road. “You’re telling me you were with him since you were twelve?” His tone is completely incredulous, and I can understand why. Everyone I’ve ever told reacts this way.
“Yes.” I scrunch my nose. “Crazy, right?”
“Um.” He looks like he’s deciding how to respond. “A little maybe,” he chuckles uncomfortably, running a hand through his thick inky hair. “Did you ever break up?”
“Nope,” I laugh at his expression. “And yes, before you ask, he’s the only man I’ve ever slept with.”
“Fuck.” His hand meets his bearded jaw, and I try to picture him with smooth skin. I can’t decide which version of Ryan I’d like better. Clean-cut Superman or this sexy brooding Batman. Sexy? Shit, did I just call him sexy? I don’t realize I’m staring until he catches me, and I quickly look away. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”