Love Unrehearsed (50 page)

Ryan glanced over at me. “Well, now we know where your musical talents come from.”

I smiled. My mom couldn’t even tune the car stereo.

Joe’s eyes widened. “You play?”

I nodded. “Started on piano and taught myself acoustic guitar.”

Ryan brushed my arm, smiling. “And she’s got a beautiful voice, too.”

Joe seemed impressed. “Wow! That’s excellent!”

After a few moments of silence, I went for the question that burned the most in my mind. “I dream about you quite often, Joe. Whenever I do, my dad, Dan, is always there, too. And you two are fighting. I mean, physically
fighting
. And then there’s blood.
Lots
of blood. Your teeth, your mouth.”

Joe winced, shaking his head. “Taryn . . .”

“No, I need to know. It’s always the same dream and after all of these years, I need answers. I have nightmares—scary, horrible nightmares.”

Ryan’s mouth opened, realization dawning on him. I nodded at his silent conclusion, knowing I’d never fully explained why I sometimes woke up terrified. Now he understood. I squeezed his hand harder.

Joe stared across the short distance between his seat and mine, his lips mashed into a hard line.

“And they always end the same way. You say ‘I’d never hurt you, baby girl’ and then your teeth turn red with blood.” I knew I was goading him, but I didn’t care. It was time to find out just how fucked-up this situation really was.

Ryan’s face fell, coated with pitiful sorrow. This was news I’d never shared before. I thought he might be miffed about finding out this way, but I’d just have to deal with him later.

“Taryn,” Joe started, using a tone that was obviously a warning.

“No, I need to know. Why? Why do I have the same dream over and over again?”

He hesitated, holding his breath, but I was tired of waiting. My dream was always the same, and now I knew it wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. I’d been recalling a memory over and over again.

“Just tell me. Please.”

Joe huffed, then rolled his gaze back to me. “It was the Fourth of July, right before I shipped off to boot camp. You know your birth mom got killed in a car crash, right?”

I nodded. “Your mom told me.”

Joe frowned, pained by this walk down memory lane. “It was right after Christmas when it had happened. You weren’t even two yet. Your mom—Jennifer—and Uncle Dan, well, they were both doing well financially. He’d just gotten that big promotion at Corning and my parents were just about to lose the house.”

I swallowed hard as answers started to fill the empty spaces.

“Aunt Jennifer wanted you real bad. And I did something really stupid. I . . . I was up to no good, and I got tangled up with the wrong sort of people.”

I held up a hand, not wanting to know I was used as barter. “Is this the reason why our mothers stopped talking to each other?”

Joe’s face blanked, and then he gave me one nod of confirmation.

“Taryn,” Ryan groaned. I knew he was telling me not to feel guilty about that.

I gave Ryan my own pleading warning. I still had unanswered questions. “So then what happened on the Fourth?”

Joe hesitated, gazing at the ornate rug beneath his feet instead of answering.

“Joe, both of my parents are gone. I have a right to know the truth. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. It was a family picnic, no big deal.”

Somehow I highly doubted that.

I could see him caving a bit more, his broad shoulders slumping. “I may have been a bit surly, considering the circumstances. Part of the agreement was that you were never to know that they weren’t your natural parents. I had to swear I’d never reveal the truth. It”—he gasped, choking up—“it killed me to do that, Taryn. You were my baby girl.
Mine
. I held you from the moment you came out of your momma’s belly and I
promised you
 . . . I promised that I’d never stop taking care of you. I rocked you and fed you and read stories when you had colic and wouldn’t sleep. And then when that asshole drove too fast on the icy road and smashed into us, I was all you had left. I knew we shouldn’t have taken you out, but all we had to do was put you in that car seat and drive around a bit and you’d be out like a light. I couldn’t just let them take that from me!”

Jill rested her hand on Joe’s thigh to comfort him, her hand trembling slightly.

My own hand started to tremble as well. In the dream, I know I’m alone with him and I can feel him touching my hair, talking to me as if he’s sorry. And then my father pounces, ready to kill him. Maybe my intimacy and fear-of-abandonment issues have atrocious origins?

I felt my chest tighten even more, fearing the answer to my next question. “Did you hurt me?”

Joe winced. “What? Oh, Lord, no. No.”

“Then why did my dad hit you? He beat the crap out of you until you bled. He was a levelheaded guy. Why would he attack you so brutally?”

Joe was glowering at me, his breathing labored with his frustration. “Because I told you the truth! I told you about your real mom and I told you that I was your real dad and no matter what they did, they would never take you from my heart. You are
my
daughter. That’s why!”

Fiasco

I could feel our plane descending on its approach to Providence. I’d been watching the arrival time on the screen, counting from one to sixty to help take my mind off the change in pressure squeezing my ears. I was all out of chewing gum, slightly in pain, and flat-out exhausted.

A huge part of me, though, felt relieved. Meeting Joe and his family, being able to reconcile that part of my life, was emotionally taxing but very necessary.

I departed Lake Tahoe hoping that my disrupted soul could finally find peace.

Joe had shown me a picture of Kelcie, and after the shock wore off at how much I really did look like my birth mother, he told me I could keep it. I squeezed my carry-on bag, hugging the picture that I’d placed inside my wallet. Kelcie Tremont was two months away from her eighteenth birthday when she died on that icy winter night.

The last thing she did before leaving this earth was tend to my needs, even though it was obvious from this meeting that Joe had been harboring the guilt since he was the one that suggested taking me out in the car. I held his hand for a long time while he and I had a private moment to talk about forgiveness.

Ryan reached over the armrest and patted my leg, rubbing his palm over my denim-clad thigh. I met his gaze, understanding his thoughtful look. Right after that, I had a revelation. Somewhere along the line, Ryan and I had developed the ability to say a hundred words to each other with just one look. I could read him just as easily as he could read me, and what he wanted to know right now was what I was dwelling on.

“I have to talk to Pete,” I answered. With all of the other revelations we’d been dealing with over the last three days, speaking with Pete had been put on hold.

Ryan nodded but I could tell he was concerned. I knew he had a lot to do; the third
Seasid
e movie was scheduled to start filming in three weeks and he’d be on location in New Orleans for three and a half months. “We’ll talk to him together. I’ve got to tell you, Taryn, I’m not happy about Tammy having an attitude. You’ve allowed her to run her business out of that kitchen for pennies. Pete’s got an income now because of you, and I know you’ve been friends with him for a long time, but if she wants to keep playing bitchy bride, she can do it on someone else’s dime.”

My mouth popped open to speak, only to be shut by him continuing with his small rant.

“I’ve got no tolerance for nonsense anymore. And if planning a wedding makes a girl that crazy, we’re keeping ours small and simple.”

Is that so?
“No opinionated aunts then, huh?”

He laughed. “Definitely not.”

I wanted to say “Pete’s my friend and I own the bar,” but that reminded me of how Thomas used to draw lines between what was mine and what was his, and that was not the way I wanted my relationship with Ryan to be. Ryan was entitled to give me his opinion and I knew he was protecting me the only way he knew how. After so many years of having his own experiences dealing with users and takers, he was leery of everyone.

By the time we landed and drove back to my apartment, I was wiped out and ready for bed. The last thing I needed to see were more boxes blocking my hallway.

“What the hell’s all this?” Ryan groaned.

Mike opened up one box while Ryan opened another. “Looks like more fan mail,” Mike muttered.

Ryan shoved the box flaps back together and grabbed his bags.

I didn’t need sharp hearing to pick up on Ryan telling Mike that he wanted to toss it all before I saw any more threat letters or hate mail. Surely with the volume sitting in boxes, there had to be a few unkind letters in the mix.

Ryan’s phone chimed. He’d been avoiding someone and I was pretty sure I knew who that was. “You can’t keep ignoring him.”

He tossed his suitcase on the bed. “Yes, I can.”

“He’s your manager.”

Ryan groaned. “He had no right doing what he did.”

“Then tell him that.”

“I’m still too mad not to fire him.”

I shrugged. “Then fire him.”

He toed his sneakers off. “I can’t.”

“You’re ready to kick Tammy and her business out of the kitchen downstairs but your manager took it upon himself to order a prenuptial agreement and you don’t think that requires a bitch-slap?”

His hands rested on his hips while he stared at me. “You want me to fire him.”

I made a pile of dirty laundry, noticing the similarities between the task at hand and this conversation. “Is that a question or a statement?” I was hoping we weren’t headed for an impasse.

Ryan shrugged. “Both.”

Drat.

“He’s not my manager. I don’t have to deal with him as much as you do so it’s not my call to make.”

Ryan set his bag on the bed. “You don’t like him.”

I met his gaze. “Another question or a statement?”

“Statement.”

I resumed sorting laundry. “No, I don’t like him, but you already know this. He’s been underhanded too many times, which makes him untrustworthy in my book. He has a difference of opinion with you of how you should lead your life, what roles you should consider pursuing, and he’s made it blatantly clear that he views me as an intrusion. Then again, I know nothing about hiring a talent manager. I do know that you have to have a certain level of trust in the people you employ. So the question goes back to you. Do you trust him?”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders falling in disappointment. I knew this had to be weighing heavily on his mind for awhile and I was glad he was finally addressing it. “I used to.”

Being diplomatic and not wanting his decision to be swayed by my opinion, I asked, “And why don’t you anymore?”

“Len Bainbridge is
my
lawyer. David had no right speaking to him on my behalf about a prenuptial agreement, regardless of inquiries for photo exclusives.”

I couldn’t agree more. I was glad he drew that conclusion on his own.

The next day I faced another possible impasse.

“Your friend Amy posted about him being at your wedding on Twitter, Tammy.” I tried to be sympathetic and compassionate but direct and to the point as well. I knew she wasn’t the one who leaked the information, but she’d have to deal with the aftermath.

Big, brown eyes that just weren’t getting it gazed blankly back across the table at me. “So?”

Either I wasn’t explaining myself properly or she was missing the point. I folded my fingers together, trying to keep calm. “So, what that means is on the day you two get married, there is a high probability that your church will be surrounded by a swarm of photographers, press, and fans. Most of the gossip sites have already posted that
our
wedding date has been leaked, Tammy. They don’t care if it’s your wedding or not. They see a tweet about Ryan and a confirmed wedding and the news channels explode with it.
CV
magazine’s website even has a fake wedding invitation posted with the date.”

Pete groaned and sat back in his chair, turning an angry glare on his fiancée. I hated seeing them like this, torn up about things they had no control over.

I could see the light dawning on her. It also became quite obvious to me that when Ryan and I did get married, keeping the date and the location secret would be the top priority.

“So now what?” Pete asked.

Ryan drew in an audible breath. “You know I want to be there for you, man, but the shit that surrounds me can get out of control. Your wedding date was posted in one of the replies to the original Twitter post. It spread from there.”

Pete turned and glowered at Tammy. “You fucked up.”

Her face fell. So did my heart. “Pete, it’s not her fault.”

Tammy was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t do this!”

I clutched his arm, hoping to get his attention before this blew up, but it made no difference. His other fist hit the table. “No? Then who did?”

Tammy appeared indignant, holding it in. “I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.”