I'm studying in the library on a Sunday. Why am I sitting in this dark and dingy library when I should be enjoying a beautiful fall day?
Because I am studying for an Animation Theory and Techniques mid-term, and even the slightest distraction, including Maisie blending another one of her protein smoothies in the kitchen, could deter me. I get through two more chapters and make five additional pages of notes when I look up to see Ryan walk into the building.
He stalks over, examines me in my yoga pants, an oversized t-shirt, my textbooks, and the extra large coffee on the table, and doesn't even say anything. He sits down in the seat across from me, rests his elbows on the table, and smiles.
I make a couple of observations in the next thirty seconds. First, he looks too put together for someone who just finished Lacrosse practice. His hair is perfectly styled and swept to the side, his face is clean-shaven, and the dimple on his chin is extra noticeable. He's wearing a white button-down shirt, a patterned blue tie with flecks of red, and a pair of very form-fitting navy trousers. Even his brown Oxford shoes are polished.
Second, I can't let him talk me into doing anything that doesn't involve acing this mid-term. The reality of my situation is I need to get the best marks possible to help secure my dream internship at Disney Animation Studios. Ryan doesn't understand the necessity of achieving stellar marks. Sure, he wants to get into law school, but regardless of his academic accomplishments, his father has enough money and power to pull strings. My reality is very different. My mother lives from paycheck to paycheck. And even though my father helps me financially, he pours all his hard-earned money into his middle-class life with his fiancé and her daughters.
Third, and maybe most importantly, I am supposed to meet Liam for dinner tonight and can't bail on him again. I need to get as much studying done today to be free tonight. We've been trying to reconnect for a second date – minus hanging out in a group setting – to continue to get to know each other better.
"What are you doing here?" I put down my pencil and fight a smile. "Or, more importantly, why are you dressed like this? I thought you had Lacrosse practice."
"I didn't go."
"And you decided to visit me instead? How sweet." I say playfully to him.
"Your brain needs a break," he says, closing my textbook. "You are over-studying for this mid-term."
"Because I need a kick-ass mark."
"And you will get one," he says.
I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't know that."
He tilts his head, studying me. "You haven't stopped cramming all weekend. You are smart as hell and annoyingly keen. You will be fine," he flashes me one of his most charming grins. "How about you close those textbooks, return to your apartment, and wear something dressier than yoga pants? I'll pick you up in front of your building in thirty minutes."
It was as if he thought I could be so easily persuaded without giving me a reason why I'd agree to do such a thing.
"How kind of you, but I'll take a rain check." I re-opened my textbook before taking a sip of my coffee. I give him my best 'get lost' look. "I can't Sunday Funday with you this weekend, Ryan. Sorry."
"What if I told you I needed a serious favour?" He reaches for my cup and snakes it right out of my hand, taking a long pull on my coffee. Of course, most humans would slap his hand away before he put his lips to their drink, but I've grown comfortable sharing my things with Ryan. Drinks, food, and sometimes even toothpaste or deodorant are included. I watch him swallow, his eyes twinkling in my direction, goading me. He has some lovely dark eyes.
"Okay. I'm listening."
"I kind of have this thing today..."
"What kind of thing?" I ask.
"Like my Gam-Gam's eightieth birthday party in Sacramento."
"Gam-Gam is turning eighty?" I ask, and his pleading eyes continue to scan my face again. "And you didn't know about this until today?"
"I wasn't planning on going," he confesses, glancing down into his lap. "But it's a big one this year. She'd be upset if I didn't attend."
I frown, inexplicably frustrated with him for his lack of planning. I feel uneasy about why he's summoning me to attend with him. I've often travelled to Sacramento with Ryan to visit his family or spend a weekend, but I've never attended an actual family event. I don't let him see I'm considering it. I want more details. I am poker-facing it like a champ.
"I don't know-"
"Please, Jonesy," he cuts off and looks at me for a long pause. "Don't make me beg you."
"What's wrong with your girlfriend?" I ask. "It's about time she met the family."
Laughing, he says, "I don't bring home girlfriends. You know this. It establishes an expectation."
I lean forward, elbows on the table. "Even though I think your Gam-Gam is awesome, I'm sure she doesn't care if I'm there."
He blinks away. "Yes, she would. My Gam-Gam loves you. It's always Ella this and Ella that – when are you bringing Ella back for a visit, blah, blah, blah."
I feel my eyes go wide. I am calling bullshit. "Your Gam Gam has never said any of that."
"She has so," he says matter-of-factly. "I've just never told you because your head is already way too big," he winks.
"Why can't you go by yourself?"
"Remember when I told you my dad was on my case about Yale? He hasn't let up. And between my mother's submissive housewife attitude and my sister's bipolar disorder and my older brother's successes, I can't fathom going alone right now to deal with all this shit," he sighs. "Please, Ella. I would do it for you. You know I would."
I can't believe he's pulling the guilt card. Ryan would drop everything and anything for me if I asked. Now, I really can't find it in my heart to say no. Perhaps I have over-studied...
"I need you to come to Sacramento with me. Please. Don't make me go alone to the Country Club to eat tea sandwiches and make small talk with my extended family."
I sigh. "Fine. But this better be an afternoon-only thing because I must return to San Francisco around dinner time."
"For what?"
"I have plans with Liam."
He laughs dryly. "Break them."
"Ryan," my tone threatening. "I'm not coming unless you promise you'll have me home no later than seven."
"Fine. I promise."
I got home in record time; the traffic light gods smiled upon me. I take a quick shower, change out of my study clothes, and put on something a little dressier. I opt for a red sleeveless lace dress, nude-toned makeup, and curl my hair. I even have enough time to run down to the grocery store on the corner to grab a bouquet for Gam-Gam.
Ryan texts me from the curb when he arrives, and I meet him at his car and jump in.
He lets out a low whistle. I look up to see Ryan's mouth tilted in a smirk. His inspection gives me goosebumps all down my arms. "Nice dress."
"Thank you," I follow the path of his eyes and look down at my chest. I'm showing a little more cleavage than usual. "I thought I'd put my best foot forward for Gam-Gam, you know since she likes me so much," I add and buckle my seat belt.
"I should have never told you how much she likes you," he laughs as he maneuvers out of the spot and then merges into traffic. "I'm never going to hear the end of it."
"I can't help but feel a bit triumphant," I say with a cheeky grin. "She's by far the best member of your family."
"Yeah," he laughs. "She sure is."
An hour and a half passes by quickly. We blast Ryan's favourite playlist and sing along to every song. Ryan takes over on the steering wheel drums, and I play the air guitar and, of course, mime a microphone for my solo parts. When we drive into Sacramento, Ryan stops at a red light, dials down the music, and turns to me.
"Shit. I forget how to get to the damn Country Club."
"I'll Google Map it," I suggest and pull my phone from my purse just as my phone beeps with a new text message from Liam.
Looking forward to tonight! This restaurant is going to blow your socks off. And hopefully other things...if you're lucky ;)
I blush and click off the text message.
"What is the address?" I glance up at Ryan with a smile.
Except he doesn't smile back. Ryan seems lost in thought as he glares down at my phone. He fiddled with the song selection, settled with Mumford and Sons, and then looked out his window away from me.
"Ryan. What's the address?" I ask again.
The light switches to green, and he finally rambles off an address.
Google Maps leads us through a long and manicured tree line before we pull up to a sprawling golf course and, finally, a picturesque Country Club. Ryan parks the car and leads the way through the parking lot. He pulls open the front door of the Country Club, and I step inside the brightly lit space. A sign reads Dorothy Owen's 80th Birthday Celebration with an arrow pointing to an outdoor terrace.
We walk through the lobby and patio doors onto a terrace overlooking a lake and a state-of-the-art golf course. At least fifty people are crowded around chatting, eating and drinking for Gam-Gam's birthday.
"Ryan, honey, you made it," a female voice comes from my right. I see Ryan's mother, Claudia Owen, lean in and hug him. She looks stylish as always in a sapphire blue dress and nude open-toed heels. Her long brown waves frame her Botox-infused face, and her lips are coloured a deep red. She looks a lot like Ryan. He inherited her big dark brown eyes. She turns to face me. "Hi, Ella. Ryan didn't tell us he was bringing a friend."
I smile politely. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Owen."
"Ella was nice enough to come with me at the last minute," Ryan tells her, draping his arm around my shoulders. "Otherwise, I probably wasn't going to come."
"Well, it's good to see you," she finally smiles.
Richard Owen, Ryan's father, approaches us wearing a dark gray suit, probably worth more than my tuition. He's very attractive for an older man and has the same dimple on his chin as Ryan. He's tall, broad, and always perfectly styling his salt-and-pepper hair.
He smiles down at me. "Hello, Ella," he pauses and looks Ryan up and down. "Glad you could make it for Gam-Gam. How was the drive?"
Ryan shrugs. "It was good."
"Good?" I laugh. That's an understatement of the century. We had a blast. "It was hilarious. We sang along to every song on your playlist."
Mr. Owen hums and then turns back to Ryan. "Why haven't you been returning my calls? I need to know if you've received your LSAT results. I spoke with Dean Erickson; he's always been a loyal friend of mine, and he said he hasn't seen your results on his desk. As soon as you receive them, you will need to forward them to him so he can have Admissions push through your application for early admittance just like he did for your brother."
Ryan helps himself to a bite-sized appetizer from a tray being carried around by a waiter. The wrinkles on Mr. Owen's forehead grow deeper every second he doesn't receive an answer. I'm feeling Ryan's resistance big time, making me uncomfortable, so I nudge Ryan in his stomach to encourage him to say something.
He coughs and glares down at me before he finally speaks. "I'll forward the results to Dean Erickson once I receive them."
"Results should have been made available last month." His older brother Reggie appears with that same cock-sure smile Ryan loves to flash.
"Hey, Reggie," Ryan murmurs.
Reggie is the complete opposite of Ryan, both in looks and personality. His hair is blondish coloured, and his eyes are a hazel-greenish hue. Despite trying to be in both regards, he's not nearly as attractive or funny. The only thing they share in resemblance is their same tall, athletic build.
Mr. Owen's clears his throat, glaring at Ryan unimpressed. "You better follow up with your test administrator."
Reggie smirks. "Yeah, you wouldn't want to be waitlisted."
Mr. Owen's nostrils flare, and he blows out a breath. "Jesus Christ, Ryan," he hisses, voice low. "Don't make a fool of me. Maybe if you put as much effort into your education as you did frolicking Down Under this summer, we wouldn't have this conversation."
I feel Ryan's body tense beside me.
"With all due respect, Mr. Owen," I piped up. "Ryan is very committed and focused on his education."
"Ella, stop – "Ryan warns, but I continue.
"And just because he went to Australia instead of working at your firm doesn't mean he doesn't take his future seriously."
Mr. Owen regards me in a way I've never seen him look at me. He's shocked and amused, and his eyebrows almost touch his hairline. "Does Ella always speak on your behalf, son?" he laughs arrogantly. "Or just when your tail is between your legs?"
My pulse accelerates thinking about the pressure Ryan's parents place on their children. Mr. Owen has been known to be a major jerk, but I can't help but feel a half-hammered spike of irritation that he's never considered what Ryan wants for his future.
"I'm sorry if I upset you, Mr. Owen," I say politely. "Ryan is working hard to get into Yale. And I think even if he didn't get into Yale, he would be a great lawyer no matter what law school he attended."
"Our firm only hires Yale graduates, no exceptions." Mr. Owen arrogantly laughs again. "Not even for blood. I suppose Ryan forgot to mention that."
"It's an Owen family tradition," Reggie smirks.
"So I've heard," I murmur.
"A pleasure seeing you again, Ella," Mr. Owen nods in my direction. "Have a nice afternoon and enjoy the party," he shifts his gaze to Ryan, voice stern, "Make sure you come and see me before you leave; I'd like to speak with you in private."
Claudia Owen remains silent, gives me a pleasant departing nod, then leans forward and kisses Ryan's cheek. "Make sure you say Happy Birthday to Gam-Gam," she tells him.
Ryan nods, and Mr. and Mrs. Owen turn away from us and walk over to the bar.
"Ouch. Ella. You pissed off the old man," Reggie chuckles and pulls a long sip from his drink.
"That's fine," I say. "I don't regret what I said."
"No one ever challenges my dad like that," Ryan grins.
"Well, maybe someone should," I suggest.
Reggie wiggles his eyebrows. "How sweet of your girlfriend to stick up for you."
"We're just friends, dipshit," Ryan scoffs.
"Figured," Reggie winks at me. "My baby brother couldn't score a cool chick like you even if he tried."
"Very funny," Ryan says dryly.
Reggie becomes distracted by one of the servers holding a tray of appetizers and follows behind her. When he's gone, the hole where he once stood is filled with Gam-Gam waving at us. She looks fantastic for eighty years old. She's petite and in great shape. The last time I came with Ryan to Sacramento, she told me she started doing yoga. She also told me she had a Facebook account and then friended me. And even though her hair is stark white, she religiously dyes it a dark brown. She's not your average grandmother.
"Ryan? Is that you?" she asks, smiling from ear to ear. "Come and give your Gam-Gam a hug."
She embraces Ryan in her arms, hugging him tightly and kisses him on the cheek.
"Happy Birthday, Gam-Gam," he says.
"I'm so glad you could make it," she holds both his hands in hers, squeezing them. She smiles over at me. "And you brought Ella, what a nice surprise." She hugs me, too. "Oh darling, you look as beautiful as ever. I'm so happy Ryan brought you."
"Happy Birthday," I say and hand her a bouquet.
"Oh, you are always so sweet and thoughtful," she beams. "When are you two ever going to be a couple? You'd make beautiful babies."
"Geez, Gam-Gam," Ryan pipes up. "I have a girlfriend, remember? Ella and I are just friends. I've told you that so many times."
"That's a real shame," she frowns. "You two look so nice together."
"Where's Rosie?" he asks, steering the conversation elsewhere. "I haven't seen her yet."
Yeah, where is Ryan's sister? I haven't seen her either.
"Your mother didn't tell you?" she whispers.
"Tell me what?"
"Rosie's been readmitted to a residential treatment program," she says nonchalantly. "Your parents admitted her to the facility a few weekends ago. She stopped taking her medication. She's had another manic episode."
Ryan stiffens next to me, scratching his head without looking up, and gives Gam-Gam a dubious glance. "Oh yeah, right... I forgot."
She pinches his cheek, "Don't worry dear, Rosie is in a good place." Ryan nods and remains silent. "Enjoy the party. Make sure you eat some tea sandwiches, but save room for cake because chocolate buttercream is your favourite," she adds.
"I will."
"You too, Ella."
I smile. "Thank you. Will do."
"And don't you dare leave without saying goodbye," she warns us.
"We won't," he says. "Love you, Gam-Gam."
Once she's gone, Ryan runs a hand over his face and then lets out a strained sigh.
"Hey, are you okay," I ask.
"No, I'm not fucking okay," he hisses. "They admitted Rosie, and no one told me. She had another manic episode? You know what that means, right? She was probably using drugs again. And now she's going to be manically depressed. Probably suicidal again. I should've been there for her. I should've known she wasn't well again. Fuck."
"Maybe your mom forgot to mention it- "I try to reason with him.
"Forgot to mention my little sister is locked up in a mental ward?" he laughs, unimpressed.
I let his emotions settle in for a minute before I speak again.
"Ryan, we both know it's a state-of-the-art mental health facility, probably nicer than this Country Club."
"Why wouldn't they tell me?" he asks, voice strained. "Why is everything always such a fucking secret with my family? How can everyone stand here and make face and act like nothing is wrong when my little sister is struggling?" He shakes his head and winces. "All my family cares about is their image. Always need to keep up appearances, show the world how great we Owen's are when we are just as fucked up as the rest of the world."
He glares at his parents, standing a few feet away, and stalks in their direction.
"Ryan," I hiss at his backside. "Where are you going?"
He turns to face me. "I want to know what the fuck is going on."
"Ryan- "I try to reason with him again, but he cuts me off.
"Stay out of it, Jonesy."
I stare at Ryan talking to his parents for at least a minute, worried he will do or say something impulsively stupid, but nothing. He is keeping his cool. I'm assuming it's on account of Gam-Gam.
"Mimosa?" Reggie's voice comes from my right. I turn around to see him holding a mimosa with a smile.
I take the drink from him, thinking it's the only way I'll be able to cope with Ryan's posh and ridiculous family for another three hours. "Thank you."
"Where did little bro take off too?" he asks.
"He's talking to your parents."
Reggie looks over my shoulder to stare at the back of his parent's heads and Ryan chattering away. "Let me guess, he found out about Rosie," he says. "I'm assuming Gam-Gam let it slip?"
I take a sip from my mimosa. "Why wouldn't someone tell him?"
"Ryan is very protective over Rosie..." he sighs. "And of course, we know he can be hot-headed and impulsive, and sometimes he can let his emotions rule his decision-making process. Mom and Dad didn't want to upset him...especially now with his sole focus needing to be on Yale."
"How do you remain so calm with all the expectations placed on you by your parents?"
He shrugs. "It's easier to be with them than it is to be against them. The sooner Ryan and Rosie realize this, the easier their lives will be."
I look over Reggie's shoulder to see a waiter handing out cake. "Can I take one of those?" I ask politely.
The waiter nods and hands me a ridiculously oversized chocolate buttercream cake. I take my first bite of the warm, sweet cake, and I swear my eyes roll into the back of my head.
"This cake is fantastic," I tell Reggie. "This may be the best cake I've ever tasted."
"It better be," he says. "It cost a small fortune. Gam-Gam ordered it from some fancy French patisserie."
I blink away to where Mr. and Mrs. Owen stand by the bar to see Ryan is no longer talking with them.
"Where did Ryan go?" I suck in a breath.
He shrugs. "I don't know."
I quickly scanned the party and didn't see Ryan anywhere. I was too worried to finish my cake, but I successfully swallowed the lump in my throat. My heart feels like it is being squeezed too tightly.
"Thanks for the mimosa, Reggie," I say. "But I should go find Ryan."
I'm already moving my feet down the steps leading off the terrace, scanning the gardens and calling out Ryan's name. When I finally spot him a few minutes later, I blow out the most relieved breath. He's sitting on a park bench, staring aimlessly at a glistening lake. A golden weeping willow shades him from the hot sun. He doesn't even look at me when I'm standing before him.
"If it's any consolation," I say. "This cake is delicious."
Ryan nods, taking a sip of his drink. I can hear the music and voices from the party in the distance, but it still feels like we are in our little bubble down here, standing a few feet away from the party-goers.
"Want a bite?" I ask.
He blinks up at me. "Nah. Thanks, though."
I sit down beside him. "Family events are always fun," I say, hoping he catches my sarcasm.
"They sent her away because Rosie had another manic episode and threatened to kill herself. God. Fuck," he drops his head in his hands, raking his hands through his hair. "They didn't tell me because they didn't want to upset me and have it affect my studies because of fucking stupid Yale and fucking stupid law school," he's hunched over, scowling. "I just can't handle how they brush Rosie's problems under the rug and send her away for someone else to deal with all the time."
Honestly, I can't even imagine. Sure, my mom's depression can get nasty sometimes, but she has never threatened to take her life. I don't even know what to say.
"All they care about is money and appearances and fucking Country Clubs. I can't stand it. No wonder Rosie is so fucked up," he wipes an unshed tear from his eye. "I didn't even get to see or tell her I love her and everything will be okay."
I swallow, placing a hand on his back.
"She needed professional help, Ryan," I say quietly. "I'm sure you can visit her to tell her those things."
He swipes a hand down his face and exhales a long breath. "Mom said no one can visit her for at least another four weeks. Which is the busiest fucking time of the school year. I won't be able to get the time away from campus."
"Oh."
"Man, I am so glad you came with me." He swallows and turns his eyes to me. I can tell he's still a mess because the pulse in his neck throbs, and his eyes are glossy. His voice comes out hoarser than usual when he says, "I'm so worried about Rosie."
"Everything is going to be okay," I assure him. "And if in four weeks you find time to sneak away from campus and you want to drive down to visit her and you need someone to ride shot-gun... I'll come with you."
He turns his head and touches the back of his neck as he looks at me through his lashes.
"I'll need a serious pair of earplugs if I have to listen to your tone-deaf voice sing for three straight hours," a smile finally graces his lips. "I barely survived ninety minutes."
I playfully nudge him on the shoulder. "Like your voice is any better."
"Some say I could've made it as the sixth member of One Direction," he winks.
I bark out a delighted laugh. "No one has ever said that."
He shrugs, biting down on his bottom lip. He studies me with his dark brown eyes, and I feel a tiny twinge of uneasiness at how he's watching me.
"What?" I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. "Stop looking at me like that."
He shrugs. "I love your laugh."
"Really? It's so loud and crackly," I say and take a bite of cake.
"No, it's not," he says. "It's more bubbly than crackly, and yeah, it's loud. Then again, nothing about you is ever quiet. Hell, you told off my dad today."
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
He leans closer, smiling down at me, gaze hovering on my mouth.
"What?"
He motions to the side of his lip with a finger. "You've got some icing on your face."
My face heats immediately.
"Where?"
I wipe my face with my hand, mortified that I am a messy eater. I can never eat something and not make a complete mess of myself.
Ryan grabs my hand and places it down at my side. "Don't," he says. "I'll get it." He leans forward and brushes his thumb against my lip, pulling down on it slightly. For a brief moment, he holds my gaze a little too long, and something unfamiliar tightens inside my chest.
I lean away from him and look down at my half-eaten cake. "We should probably get back to the party."
"Yeah," he clears his throat. "I guess that's why we're here. To celebrate Gam-Gam."
"Plus, I could use another piece of chocolate cake."
He laughs and looks over at me, eyes twinkling. "Careful...you don't want those knees getting any chubbier."
"Jerk," I playfully smack him in the arm. "You know I'm self-conscious about my knees."
"I'm just bugging you, Jonesy," he says, squeezing my bare thigh. "You've got great knees. Sometimes, I can't look away from how perfect they are."
I roll my eyes. "Please stop."
"Aw, come on, you love it," he says, standing up from the bench. I nudge him in the side, and he drapes his arm around my shoulders as we walk back to join the birthday party.
A few hours later, I'd eaten enough chocolate cake for the entire party. I have more than a few mimosas, and Ryan keeps his drinks bottled water. My afternoon is filled with meaningless small-talk conversations with Ryan's cousins, aunts, and uncles. As the party dwindles, we head to the lake with Reggie, have a cigar, and talk about nothing and somehow everything. Just before we drove back to San Francisco, Ryan talked privately with his dad while I chatted with Gam-Gam. Her bold and comical outlook on life makes me laugh more than once. Compared to the rest of Ryan's family, she is a breath of fresh air.
Ryan walks up to us, shoulders hunched and both hands shoved in his pockets. He looks tense again, and his face is sullen. I can only assume their private conversation didn't go well.
"Time to go?" I ask.
He nods, "Yeah." He leans forward, hugs Gam-Gam and wishes her a happy birthday. She thanked him for coming and gave me another hug, too.
In the parking lot, Ryan opens the passenger side door for me.
"Thanks for coming with me," he says.
"Yeah, no problem," I say and slide onto the seat. He closed the door behind me, and I watched him walk around the front of the vehicle, open his door, and slide into the driver's seat. After a few beats, I glance at him, "You'd do it for me."
He looks over at me. "I do anything for you, you know that," he says, turning on the ignition. We sit in the idling car, both of his hands on the steering wheel as he stares out the windshield. Another few beats pass in our comfortable silence before he takes a deep breath and turns to face me again.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just glad I met you."
"Yeah, well, knowing you don't suck either."
"Let's stick around Sacramento, and you can ditch your dinner date with Thor. Before returning to San Fran, we can stroll around mid-town and grab something to eat."
As much as I know he needs me right now, I can't keep on choosing Ryan over my relationships with other men. I can't cancel on Liam for the third time this week, as it pains me to say no to Ryan. He's upset after his private conversation with his father and the impact of his sister's admittance to a facility, but I can't break my plans with Liam this time.
"I'm sorry, Ryan. I can't," I say and look away from him. "I promised Liam, and you promised me I'd return in time."
It takes a few moments for Ryan to reply, but I can feel his eyes burning into me. "Okay. I guess we better hit the road then."