The Opposite of Wild (29 page)

He was too closed off.

And she had a screaming, demanding baby.

And her life sucked.

She opened the door to find Ryan already in the lobby. He spotted her and closed the distance between them, kissing her cheek. She inhaled his scent, and her body heated automatically, remembering him. Yes, a public place had been the way to go. One kiss and she knew she’d cave.

“You look nice,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in a dress.”

“Thank you.” She moved a hand to smooth her hair, then remembered it was an unconditioned frizzy mess and left it alone.

She’d called ahead, so they were quickly shown to their table. The waiter brought chips and salsa right away, along with the drink menu. Liz passed on the margarita, even though they were great here, figuring it would be easier to deliver the news sober.

“How are you?” Ryan asked.

“Good.” She dipped a chip in salsa and wished she had worked out some kind of speech. Some lines to have memorized that explained the reasons why she had to break up with him—in a gentle, kind way—because right now it was hard to come up with even one. She could only remember the reasons she loved him—his confident take-charge manner, his bone-deep decency, his way-too-gorgeous sexy self.

Her phone dinged—a text from Daisy. She discreetly read it under the table.
Bryce won’t stop crying.
She held a finger up to Ryan. “Just a minute.” She texted back:
Be home soon. Try nurse, burp, swaddle.
She grabbed a chip, then remembered her manners. “How are you?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Problem?”

“No, everything’s fine. I’ll put this away.” She slipped her cell into her purse and focused her attention back on him.

“Trav got the test results. He’s the father.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “So I guess we’re family now.”

Liz stiffened at the mention of the paternity test. “Daisy would never tell Trav he was the father if she wasn’t sure.”

Ryan raised a skeptical brow that pissed her off, even though Daisy had lied about the father before she admitted the truth. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to fight with him, just gently break up with him.

Liz leaned back and watched Ryan while she did some deep breathing. He ate a few chips, seeming unconcerned about their relationship. She hated feeling like the old Liz, worrying about the future, analyzing every detail.

But she’d missed him. It had only been a week since she’d come home to find him holding Bryce in his arms. It felt like ages ago. Everything since Bryce had come along felt like a split in her life—a before Bryce and an after Bryce. That time she’d had with Ryan before Bryce felt far away in a distant past when her life was just about fun and she knew what a good night’s sleep was. She didn’t even care about fun anymore. She just wanted sleep.

The waiter returned and took their order. Silence descended on their table. She didn’t know if the silence was her fault because she was trying to think of the right way to say
it’s over
or his fault because he was a terrible conversationalist or both of their faults because they had nothing in common.

Her head hurt. She opened her purse and fished out a couple of Tylenol. She swallowed them and closed her eyes. There was no easy way to say this.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, only to find him studying her, his expression grim.

“I’m getting a real bad vibe here, Liz,” he said. “Just tell me whatever it is you have to say.”

I must be so transparent
. “It’s not that I want to stop seeing each other—”

“Good.”

“It’s just that I
have
to.”

He took her hand and leaned across the table. “Liz, I like you.”

Like
. She forced a smile. Like, not love. Probably always would be. This right here was reason number one to breakup. Reason number two—she had Bryce.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Liz looked down at her smaller hand cupped in his warm, strong one. Lord, this was hard. She slipped her hand from his and, unwilling to risk the pain of an unrequited
I love you,
went with reason number two.

“Bryce needs me,” she said firmly. “You didn’t sign up for this whole deal.” She thrust her face forward so he could get a good look at her. “Look at my eyes. I’ve got bags
and
dark circles under all that makeup. I’m up every two hours all night.” She grabbed a handful of her frizzy hair. “I don’t even have enough shower time for conditioner. And this”—she grabbed the strap of her dress—“is Daisy’s dress because I don’t have time to iron my clothes!”

His brows shot up. “So? I don’t care if your clothes are wrinkled or your hair is conditioned.”

“It’s not just that.” She gestured wildly. “Bryce and I are a package deal. He needs me. You don’t.”

He leaned back from the table and regarded her through calm, assessing eyes. “Last time I checked, Daisy was the mother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She fought the urge to jump up and shake the calm out of him.

“I don’t see why your life has to come to a halt just because she had a baby.”

Liz’s throat tightened. “You just don’t understand my relationship with Daisy.”

He leaned forward and said gently. “Here’s what I understand. She leans on you an awful lot for a big sister. She’s supposed to be looking out for you, not the other way round.”

She raised her palms. “But I’ve always looked out for her.”

He inclined his head like that was the problem. He was extraordinarily dense. Of all people, he should understand the importance of family. Just look at how he took care of his grandmother and brothers.

The waiter arrived with their food. They both ignored it.

Liz tried again. “Look, Bryce needs someone like me in his life. Someone steady. Daisy can be…flighty.”

“Trav says she’s doing a good job.”

“She is.” She took a deep breath. “Bryce needs me too. I’m sorry, but…this is goodbye.” She set her napkin on the table.

“Liz, come on—”

“There’s just no point. Don’t you see?” She pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. “We’re in two different places.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why can’t we just enjoy each other? We had a good time. Why does it have to be all or nothing?”

I’m such a fool. Why did I think that I’d ever mean more to him than a good time?

She stood and blinked back tears, angry that she even had them. “Goodbye, Ryan.”

“Dammit, Liz.” He threw his napkin on the table.

She walked out of the restaurant. You couldn’t make a man love you. Her throat was tight.
Ugh, I don’t have time for tears!
She had to rest up before the two a.m. feeding. Her pajamas and the sofa had never been so inviting.

She texted Daisy:
On my way home
.

Daisy texted back right away:
Bryce screaming. Mom working. Help!

Liz got in her car and put the cell phone on speaker so she could talk hands-free. “Did you try putting him on his tummy?” she barked. “Did you burp him? Run a warm bath? Swaddle him?” She rapidly ran down the list of things that were supposed to work for colicky babies, but somehow never worked for her nephew.

She’d made the right choice breaking up with Ryan. She had to get back to her baby.

~ ~ ~

Ryan went for a run the next morning, still baffled as to what went wrong with him and Liz. He didn’t see why she couldn’t keep stopping by his house to fool around and enjoy some baby-free time. It wasn’t like it was her baby. And she’d acted like she was disappointed in him, like he was supposed to say something. He hadn’t a clue what. Was he supposed to offer to help with Bryce? It wasn’t like he could feed the boy—Daisy’s boobs had that covered. He guessed he could offer to get the boy to nap, even though Bryce already had two parents in town. Trav visited his son, but not living with him, he could only do so much.

He stopped for a breather and found himself at Gran’s house. He knocked and waited. It was early still, around nine, but he figured she’d be up. It spoke to his own desperation, he thought grimly, that he was hoping Gran could help him figure out this Liz thing. But she was a woman, and she’d always been honest with him.

Jorge answered the door in Gran’s yellow ruffled robe.

“Buy a frickin’ robe,” Ryan muttered.

“Your grandmother’s in the shower,” Jorge said. “You want to wait?”

“Yeah, I’ll wait.” He pushed past him and helped himself to some water in the kitchen.

Jorge walked in, poured himself a cup of coffee, and offered one to Ryan.

Ryan took the mug Jorge poured him. He sat at the kitchen table, confused and pissed off about Liz and having to deal with
this guy
instead of Gran. He glowered at the tile floor.

Jorge fixed some toast and joined him a few minutes later. It was all sickeningly domestic. He felt like he’d walked in on a geriatric love nest.

They sat in silence. Ryan could hear the water running upstairs in his grandmother’s shower. What was taking her so long? Wash, rinse, and get out.

“Women make no sense,” Ryan announced, thoroughly annoyed with the entire sex.

“They are a mystery,” Jorge said smoothly. “That’s part of their charm.”

He snorted. “Charm. How charming is it when someone suddenly dumps you for no good reason? Just because she’s an aunt. I’m an uncle, and you don’t see me dropping everything!” He stood in his agitation.

“You want some advice, man to man?” Jorge asked.

Ryan gave him a look. Did he want advice from the tango-dancing man that had seduced his grandmother?
Actually, yeah
. The guy must know something about women. Gran had been single for twenty years, and it wasn’t for lack of suitors. The men at church fawned over her potluck cooking.

Ryan dropped back into his chair and inclined his head in a quick nod.

Jorge leaned forward like he had some secret wisdom to impart. “You need a grand romantic gesture, something that shows Liz what she means to you.”

“That’s what you’ve got. A grand romantic gesture. What the
hell
is that?”

Jorge shrugged. “It’s different for every woman. What would speak to Liz? What would show her what’s in your heart?”

He softened thinking of Liz. Her uptight attitude with a fire hidden underneath, her unselfish devotion to her family, her love for children. She’d chosen Bryce over him. But he still didn’t get why she had to choose at all. Why couldn’t they just enjoy each other a little longer?

He stood abruptly. “Tell Gran I stopped by.”

He left more mixed up than when he’d arrived. He ran for home. His chest ached, halfway there, and he wondered briefly if he was having a heart attack. No arm pain. He kept going and thought of Liz.

He remembered the first time he’d met her, so long ago, when he’d been a lifeguard at Grand Lake. Liz must have been thirteen and busting out of her too-small swimsuit, but she still mustered the courage to talk to him, a rising senior in high school. Not many middle school girls would’ve had the courage to ask him, an upperclassman, about being a lifeguard, day after day. He liked that she cared about his job, that she wasn’t just flirting like those silly girls that giggled and made eyes at him.

Until one day, she’d gotten sunstroke and collapsed at his feet. She’d vomited and looked close to losing consciousness. He’d panicked at first, looking for her mom to step in, but she wasn’t there, and it was all on him. He’d remembered his first-aid training. “Call nine-one-one,” he’d hollered and sprang into action. Making sure she was on her side so she didn’t aspirate. Getting her to shade. Hydrating her. She’d been pale and shaky, and he’d only left her side because Rachel had assured him that she was fine and her mother was on the way.

He’d walked off with Chase, that no-brain linebacker. Chase had teased him about staggering when he carried Liz. He’d laughed it off. So he’d fucked up the carry. Then he’d gotten annoyed with Chase’s comments about Liz’s weight and brushed him off. He was on the job. He’d returned to the lifeguard stand, watching the lake, watching Liz until her mother showed up. She walked to the car on her own, and he knew she’d be okay.

It had tested him. That emergency. He liked helping, protecting, making sure she was safe. Liz was the reason he’d become a cop. He’d begun to think of the police academy, to protect and serve. And then Chief Bailey had become a mentor as they worked together to keep Trav on the straight and narrow.

Would that help? If Liz knew she had started him on the path to his life’s work? He slowed to a walk. The cold truth was that his affair-snooping job was a far cry from his life’s work.

He thought again of his conversation with Jorge. A grand romantic gesture he’d said. Okay, fine. He wasn’t good with words anyway. Maybe if he became a cop again, Liz would see him doing worthy work and she’d…what? He didn’t know. Be happy for him probably, but that wouldn’t be enough to get her to jump back in his bed. Which was where he wanted her.

Maybe something more traditional. Liz would probably like flowers. Or chocolates. Or a diamond ring.

He stopped abruptly on the sidewalk in front of his house. Where had that come from? You didn’t propose marriage just to keep someone from breaking up with you. Besides, she had husband, kids, and a dog written all over her. That had never been his plan. Maybe she was right and they should break up.

He opened the front door to his house and just stood there in the entryway. It was quiet.

His house felt empty in a way it never had before Liz stepped foot in it.

His gut twisted. He pulled out his cell and dialed. “Hey, Chief, it’s Ryan O’Hare.”

~ ~ ~

Liz flung open the door before the person out there could ring the doorbell again and further aggravate Bryce. He was already howling in Daisy’s arms as her sister paced back and forth, saying, “There, there, there, there.” The words running together and growing weaker. Even Bryce wasn’t convinced. At least they weren’t at full-throated screaming yet.

“Maggie, hi!” Liz exclaimed. It felt like a new ray of hope. Someone was here to save them from the never-ending torture that was Bryce crying. She’d never shown up at her apartment before.