Mine to Lose (3 page)

He closed the door behind me when I
climbed out and placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the
front door. The action wasn’t territorial, or even sexual in nature, but it was
strong and comforting. He held the door open and the rustic interior was only
overshadowed by the scary exterior. We found a table in the back and sat down
across from each other. Ryan handed me a menu, and we sat in comfortable
silence as we decided what to order. I had never felt so at ease with a guy
before, but he felt familiar, even though we had just met.

We placed our orders and started talking
about the obligatory ‘what’s your major, where are you from’ questions. From
that short conversation I learned that Ryan was in his first year of grad
school and was originally from the East Coast, where his family still lived. I
was barely twenty, and there he was, almost twenty-three with an undergrad
degree and working on his master’s. Needless to say, the guy was even better
once I got to know him. He was easy to talk to, until he wasn’t.

“So I guess, since you’re here with me,
you’re not seeing anyone.” It wasn’t a question, more of an observation that
made him appear a bit too cocky for my liking.

“Seeing multiple someones,” I lied. He
nodded, impressed with my response. “And what about you?” I continued, “I could
assume the same.”

“Just ended something a few weeks ago.” He
shrugged. I could tell that whoever it was, and however it had ended, hurt him,
or at least kept him from being open to something else.

“Sorry to hear that.” I don’t know where
my next words came from, but I think they shocked him as much as they did me.
“Well, sorry for you, but kinda happy for me.”

A burst of laughter erupted and he shook
his head in disbelief. “You’re a little surprising, Em.”

I returned his smile, loving that he just
gave me a nickname. Granted, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t been called before,
but Ryan calling me Em felt right.

The rest of the night flowed and was
relaxed, filled with easy conversation and witty banter. I didn’t ask about his
ex because I really didn’t care. All that mattered to me was that he was smart,
single, funny and very sexy. We talked for what seemed hours about everything
and yet, I still wanted to know more. But when a yawn escaped me, he paid our
tab and we walked back out to his Jeep where he opened the car door.

Right before shutting the door, he furrowed
his brow like he was gauging his next sentence, and cocked his head to the side.
Finally, he flashed a crooked grin. “I’d like to take you out again sometime.”

I was doing a happy dance inside, bells
and whistles were going off in my head, but I kept my composure and played it
cool. After all, I was the one who approached him with confidence earlier. I
returned his smile with my own coy version. “We’ll see.”

I was surprised when we drove back out to
the place where our friends were still hanging out. We both got out of his Jeep
and met at the front, standing there with his headlights shining on the bonfire
in the middle of the field. There was music blaring from someone’s radio as
laughter filled the air, and it felt like anything was possible. Ryan reached
his hand out for mine, and of course I gave it to him. He pulled me close and
started two stepping to whatever song was playing, and I followed, happy to be
in his arms. I didn’t care that I might look like a lovesick girl with my arm
draped over his shoulder, his hand around my waist and his other hand holding
mine close to his heart. It was perfection. I closed my eyes and did everything
I could to seal the moment in my memory. I knew then that the real Ryan was so
much better than the Ryan I created in my head weeks ago.

After that night, we were inseparable. We
were together every night, either to study or to go out on a date. I fell hard
and fast for Ryan Tate, but he owned my heart the moment he called me Em.

I’ve never understood how people can go
through so much crap in their personal lives, but check it all at the door when
it comes to work. I understand it now, because that’s what I’ve had to do since
our fight last night, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up
appearances.

“Cam,” I call over to her desk. “I’m
meeting Joss later for dinner. You up for it?”

“Any word from Ryan,” she asks, but I
shrug as if I don’t care. “Have you called him?”

As if on cue, my phone rings next to me,
and without looking, I know it’s him. I can tell by the ringtone that I made
just for him from
our
song. I flip the phone to silent, intent on
ignoring the call. I feel my cheeks flame when I look up to see Cam looking at
me with raised eyebrows because she heard it too. She shakes her head, silently
reprimanding me, as she looks down at whatever she was working on before I interrupted
her. I do feel guilty for not answering, but I’ve already brought enough drama
from home with me. I refuse to leave today in tears.

Elle, the owner of Elle E. Grant Events, is
a great boss, and I’ve been able to make a name for myself rather fast under
her instruction. If I start letting personal crap invade my work, I’m just
asking for problems. Between Elle and Cam, this place is my dream job, hence
why I’m so intent on staying for a while.

Cam’s been here for about a year, and she
was tasked with showing me around the office and filling me in on client
protocol when I started work here six months ago. Before I got this job, I had
never worked in an office setting, and I figured it was going to be cutthroat,
but it’s not. I’m so glad I have Cam, except when she gives me
that
look.

“I’ll call him in a little while,” I say
somewhat defensively as I silence the phone and shove it in my drawer. “I
promise.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her silence
speaks volumes. I get back to working on the T.M. Enterprise event so I don’t
have to feel guilty. I’ve done a ton of research on what this corporation does,
as well as what their past events have been like. The last few nights, work has
come home with me while I sit at my computer to find out more. This is the
first client that Elle has let me take on alone. It’s not her biggest client,
but like she says, ‘there are no small clients.’ Unfortunately, for the last
few days, my point of contact has been a little hard to get a hold of, and I’ve
decided that I might just have to go to the owner. It’s not something that Elle
encourages, but when there is a job to do, and deadlines that need to be met,
you do what you have to do.

I hit print on some forms that I need and
I’m about to ask Cam for the owner’s contact information, but when I swivel in
my chair, she is standing right next to me with a sympathetic look. “I’m not
trying to give you a hard time about Ryan. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” I give her a fleeting smile.
“I appreciate your concern.”

I’m not the hugging type, so as I push
myself out of my chair to go to get my copies from the printer, I’m surprised
when she throws her arms around my neck.

I don’t want to cry, but this small
gesture causes me to choke back a sob.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispers so no
one can hear. I nod in agreement, and the tears sting my eyes. I exhale a
controlled breath, hoping that the tears dissipate before anyone notices.

“See?” I swipe my eyes with the tips of
my fingers to dispel any evidence of emotion. “This is why I need to go out.”

“I can’t go tonight, but promise me that
you’ll call if you need anything?”

“I promise.” I put my hand up to swear.
Desperate to divert the attention off of me, I get back to the matter at hand.
“Before I leave, I need to get the contact info for Mr. Miller at T.M.
Enterprises. Do you happen to have that? Sandy isn’t returning my calls or
emails, and there are some decisions that need to be made soon.”

Cam goes to her desk and pulls up the
information. “His name is Trey Miller; I’m emailing his contact information to
you now.” I give her my best smile and get back to finishing up my day.

My desk is in order, and I’ve gotten
everything together that I need to take home. I’ll have to work from home this
weekend, because there is so much that still needs to be done. I’m not sure
what
I’ll get done, but hopefully I can at least send an email to Mr. Miller before
I go out with Joss tonight. I stop by Cam’s desk one last time to see if she
can join us, but she says she has plans, so I let it go. I don’t think she has
plans, but at the same time, I think she would rather be alone than be anywhere
near me and my crazy.

The entire drive home I think about what
I want to say to Ryan, but I can’t formulate a single coherent thought. All
along it’s been me who has taken the steps to keep us together, and I’m tired
of it. I want to scream and yell, I want to cry and hit something. But all of
the rational parts of me remind me that there is only one way to handle this.
Take
a stand
. I start to give myself a pep talk that I’m not going to be pushed
around and what I might say once I see him. When I get to our apartment parking
space, I notice that Ryan isn’t home, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Our fight
will wait until later.

When I walk in the door, I expect to find
it as I left it this morning but something feels off, out of place. When I
close the door behind me, I drop my bag on the couch and go to our bedroom to
change into some comfortable clothes. I slip my dress off and pull on a tank
and yoga pants before going to the bathroom to wash the makeup off my face. As
I dab my face dry with the hand towel on my side of the vanity, I notice it.
It’s small, but it’s missing.
Ryan’s razor is gone.

I start to look around to see what else
is out of place. His side of the closet has less clothes, so I look for the other
duffle bag that he reserves for his camping trips, only to discover that it’s
gone, too.

“What’s going on?” I start talking to
myself, realizing I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack. I walk to his
side of the bed and the book he is reading is still there, but his phone
charger is gone. My purse is on the couch, so I walk out there to grab my cell
phone to call him, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I see an envelope sitting
on the counter. I creep to the letter and eye it as if it has the ability to
attack me.
‘Emogen,’
is written on it, in Ryan’s handwriting, and I find
it hard to bring myself to open it.

I smack the letter against my hand,
trying to prepare myself for the contents. “A letter?” I ask of no one, since I’m
alone. The couch is my favorite spot in the apartment, so I sit at the edge and
imagine what his words say.
I’m leaving you. I don’t love you anymore. I
made a mistake.
I could sit here all night and conjure up the worst,
but I have the words already in my hands.

Em,

Don’t
freak out but I came by earlier and packed some things up. I’m staying at
Dean’s place because I think we need some space. I tried to call you earlier,
but you never answered. You said you need time to think. I’m not sure what that
means, but it makes me think that I need to do the same. You are making this a
bigger deal than it needs to be. But at some point, we do need to talk, so call
me when you’re ready.

Ry

Ry
? He just signed his name? No,
“love Ry,”
nothing? Just his name.
I am so angry I can’t see straight. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a
phone call - not now, maybe not ever. He has the nerve to write me a damn note
to say he’s gone.

I slide my finger across my phone screen
and immediately find the number, among my favorites, that I want to call.

“Hello?”

“Joss, it’s me,” I say in a rushed tone.

“Of course it’s you,” she grumbles. “I
see your name. What’s up? Still want to get something to eat?”

“No, I need to go out, I need to drink.”

“What’s going on?” Her voice goes from
fun to concern. I haven’t gotten to tell her about our fight yet, which is why
we are going out for dinner, so we can talk.

“Ryan left,” I say in a low monotone.
It’s not even the truth; at least it’s not the truth,
yet
.

“Be there in ten.” She doesn’t say
goodbye because she knows I mean business. I should feel bad for not telling
her the whole story and letting her worry, but he did just leave me a
note
.

I’m so angry and I don’t think that my
typically modest attire will suffice. I hurry to my closet and search for the
skimpiest dress in my possession. When I find what I’m looking for, it’s so far
in the back I’m afraid if I blow on it, dust might actually fly off of it. I
change out of my comfy cloths and slip into the sexy purple off the shoulder
dress that I haven’t worn since college. It is one of Ryan’s favorites; maybe
someone else will like it, too.

I’m looking for trouble.

I look down at my hand and eye the ring,
a promise that we made to each other. The hurt I feel is greater than my desire
to wear something that I’m not sure represents the original promise. The ring
has taken up residence on my finger for over a year, so when I take it off, the
white line shows the remnants of what once was. There’s a light knock at the
door that startles me out of my ring-induced trance, so I finish touching up my
makeup before answering.

I am expecting Joss, so seeing Ryan
standing in the threshold surprises me. The look on his face goes from neutral
to shock-filled in less than a second, and I beam inside, knowing that he might
be pissed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask,
annoyed.

“I thought we could talk.” Confusion
laces his tone.

“I think you said everything you needed
to say in your
note
,” I bite out. “Besides, you told me to call when I’m
ready, and well, I guess I’m
not
ready. In fact, I have plans.” Before I
can elaborate, Joss walks in, sees the two of us in a standoff, and starts to
back away.

“Hey, Joss.” I call to her, from around
Ryan in a chipper tone. “I’ll be ready in five.” She nods her head, but looks
as though she might not be around in five minutes because she wants to bolt.

“Em,” he says my name in a warning tone.
“We need to talk.”

“You’re right, we do, but I guess this is
how things will work now. We just do whatever the fuck we want without
consulting each other.” I grab my purse and walk past him, but stop at the
still opened door. “And like I said, I have plans.” I turn to leave and shut
the door behind me, but the moment I’m outside, I feel my legs tremble. I worry
that I just made a big mistake.

Joss turns to me as I catch up to her on
the stairs. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“Just get in the car. I don’t care where
we go, I’ll tell you about it when we get there.”

* * *

After going to her apartment and filling
Joss in on everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, she
agrees that I need to get out and unwind. I haven’t been to a club in a while,
and the last time I went, Ryan was with me.

Ryan
.

I try to turn off all thoughts of Ryan
and enjoy the night, but I know that’s not going to be an easy thing to do.

We get to the club and with every drink I
have, my moves become looser and I become less inhibited. And with every drink,
I know that tomorrow I’m going to regret tonight. Joss and I remain on the
dance floor for what seems like hours, dancing to song after song. I find
myself missing my engagement ring, if for no other reason than to keep the guys
at bay. They’re bringing us drinks, and we accept with a smile before turning
our backs and ignoring them for the rest of the night. Most of the guys seem to
take it in stride, but there are a few who are insistent on dancing with us. I
politely turn them down, and eventually they walk away. Some leave with a
“Bitch”
remark, while others give us dirty looks before finding someone else.

Joss yells to me, over the blaring music,
that she is heading to the restroom. I nod, opting to remain on the dance
floor. I’m swaying to the music, enjoying the energy, when a pair of hands find
the sides of my rib cage and graze their way down my side and stop at my hips.
The motion is swift, seductive, and unwelcome. I spin, in a hurry, on my heels
to push the groper way. When I do, I look up to see my fiancé with a serious
look on his face waiting for a reaction.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I
yell over the music.

“So you just let guys touch you?” The disappointment
in his question tugs at my heart, but his question doesn’t deserve an
explanation. I shove past him and walk away. Of course he’s not one to let it
go, and I know he is stalking behind me. I get to the table and set my clutch
on the top so I can try to get the attention of a bartender.

“You won’t talk to me, but you’ll go to a
club and dance with strangers?” He glares at me, and I counter with my own
annoyed stare, but he continues, “I don’t get you.”