Ryder grins again. He’s even more handsome when he smiles, not that I’m noticing. “I’ll give you two a chance to talk,” he says, motioning to Geoffrey to follow him to the other room.
Addison and I sit down on the sofa together, and she takes my hands. I know all of this is scaring her. I fill her in as best I can on everything that happened, feeling bad that her weekend away got cut short by my drama.
“What do you want to do?” she asks.
“Go home.”
“I don’t think you really want to do that. I had Geoffrey drive me by the house. I was going to go grab a few things for you, but we couldn’t even get down the street. It’s chaos. I’m kinda glad he got you out of there.”
“I can’t stay with Ryder,” I say, knowing she’s probably right. I got my taste of what his life is like earlier, and we had security. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if I was alone.
“Why not? He’s hot, loaded, and totally in love with you,” she teases, trying to make me smile.
“No, he’s not.”
“Uh, yeah, he is. He looks at you like you’re dessert.”
“You really don’t think it’s safe to leave?” I ask.
“No, I don’t,” Addison says and pulls me close. “Mom and Dad are freaking out. There are reporters at their house, too.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “There’s this godawful woman, Maggie, who’s his publicist, and she’s arranging for me to see a doctor for a paternity test.”
“That bastard!” Addison cries out, so loud that folks on the first floor of the hotel probably hear her.
Ryder certainly did and walks into the room with Geoffrey. “You really hate me, huh?”
Addison rises from the sofa. “Yeah, I do.”
Ryder doesn’t say a word, perhaps stunned by her answer. I’m sure people usually tell him what he wants to hear and kiss his ass. Addison’s hatred is probably new to him.
“You hurt my sister once, that puts you on the Shit List for life. You better hope and pray that this all turns out well for her, because if it doesn’t, you’ll never play music again because I will shove your guitar so far up your ass. . .”
“Addison!” I yell for her to stop.
“Kailey, I can get you out of here right now,” Addison says, despite what she just told me privately. She’s not going to let Ryder think he has the upper hand.
Part of me wonders whether Ryder would try and stop her. From the look in his eyes, it sure seems like he would. “You said your house was surrounded,” I say.
“I’m sure we could find somewhere to hide out until things calm down,” she says.
“What about Tinsley?” I ask.
Addison looks over at me, realizing I’m right. Tinsley is barely three years old, and she doesn’t need to be around this chaos. I can’t ask my sister to subject her daughter, my niece, to that. There’s always my parents’ place, but they are both college professors about to start new semesters. I know I’m more important to them than their work, but I hate disrupting everyone’s lives because of my mess.
Ryder walks over, sitting down on the coffee table in front of me. “Give me a few days,” he says.
“Why should she?” Addison snaps. “You left her in that hotel room like she was nothing but a two-bit whore.”
“I had reasons for doing what I did,” Ryder says.
“And I have reasons to hate you for it,” she says. “I’ve been the one taking care of her. Holding her hair back when she has morning sickness so bad, she can’t lift her head out of the toilet. Bringing her crackers and . . .”
“You’ve been sick?” Ryder asks, looking over at me. “I guess I should’ve asked that.”
“Ya think?” Addison says.
“Look!” he says to my sister. “I’ve only known about this for a few days. I’m playing catch up here.”
“I suggest you move a little quicker with that,” Addison snarks.
“Kailey came to me. She wanted me to know she’s pregnant. I want to help. I’m trying to help.”
“By demanding paternity tests?” Addison yells.
I’m sure he regrets bringing my sister here to see me. “I never asked for . . .”
“Addison,” I say softly. “Like it or not, he’s the father of my baby. I have to deal with the fallout of my bad choices.”
I feel Ryder’s eyes on me, not liking me thinking of him as a bad choice. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay here with him,” Addison says.
“Maybe not,” I say, looking into Ryder’s handsome face. I know I don’t owe him a damn thing, but this isn’t about him, or me, or even how we feel about each other. It’s about the little person inside me. “But we have some things to settle. It’s just for a day or two.”
She sits back down beside me and whispers, “You sure?”
I nod. Addison takes a deep breath, not liking my decision, but allowing me to make it. She gets to her feet and shoots one last warning glance at Ryder.
“Geoffrey will drive you home,” Ryder says.
Addison nods. That’s the only thank you she’s going to give.
“I can have security placed at your house if you need it,” Ryder offers.
“Not necessary,” Addison says, giving me a hug before walking out the door.
The sound the door makes as it closes is how I imagine a prison cell would sound. I’m trapped, only my current cellmate is a hot country singer.
“She’s a little overprotective,” I say.
“So am I,” Ryder says, smiling at me slightly. “She makes you look like a kitten.”
“She’s a little more . . .” I tilt my head, thinking about how my sister is a little taller, curvier, louder, more opinionated. My sister is the bombshell. I’m happy living in her shadow. Addison loves attention. Me, not so much. “Well, more.”
“It’s nice,” Ryder says.
“Nice?” I ask, raising my eyebrow. “Addison isn’t called nice very often.”
“No, I mean, it’s nice that you two are close. That’s why I had Geoffrey bring her. I knew you’d want your family.” He moves beside me on the sofa, careful not to sit too close to me. “That’s another reason why I thought that house would be perfect. It’s not too far from your sister or your parents. Just a few hours. And my brother has a house in Malibu. He’s not there a lot, but with the baby, I thought it would be nice to have family close.”
“Your brother, Knox Merrick, the movie star?” I ask but already know. I may not have recognized Ryder when I first met him, but you’d have to live under a rock to not know who his brother is.
“That would be the one.”
“Are you two close?” I ask.
“Our parents are both gone, so we’re really close.”
“I thought most country singers lived in Nashville.”
“Most do,” I say. “But I wouldn’t take you that far away from your family. Maybe we should take another look at that house. You didn’t see much of it. I think you’d like it.”