The walls are covered in platinum albums. “That means over a million sold of that album,” Maggie says.
I walk past the shelves of awards, the walls of successes, the name Ryder Merrick engraved on each one. It’s not that I didn’t know he’s a big deal in the music world, but to me, he’s simply the man who left me, the father of my child. While he might be one of the most decorated musicians of the decade, that doesn’t mean he’ll be a good father.
Among all the shiny awards, one thing stands out. On a side table by the sofa, a simple frame holds the picture of Ryder kissing me at the music festival. The picture that, in a sense, ruined everything. Picking it up, a part of me wants to smash it, the pain still so close, but my heart won’t let me, remembering how amazing that day was.
A bowl of guitar picks rests on the table. I pick one up, seeing the J. C. initials engraved on each one. Maggie clears her throat, and I drop it back down with all the others.
“Why don’t you like me?” I ask Maggie.
Most people would immediately start denying their hatred of you, but not Maggie. She simply looks at me with indifference. “It’s not about whether or not I like you. It’s about Ryder. He’s my priority.”
“Of course,” I say with attitude.
She steps a little closer, looking down at the photo in my hand. “You’re either going to be the best thing that ever happened to Ryder, or the thing that destroys him. Jury’s still out.”
This woman is like a wolf. If you’re in her pack, she’ll do anything to protect you, but if not, she’ll destroy you. It seems she’s still trying to decide if I pose a threat or am an asset.
“I took the picture,” she says, her voice calm, like the ice queen she is.
“What?” I cry.
She takes it from my hands, placing it back down on the side table. “It wasn’t sold to the press. I took it and used it to get Ryder to do what he needed to do.”
“You did what?”
“Ryder doesn’t know,” she says, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her eyes downcast. It’s only for a second, but it’s clear it’s not the norm for her to lie to him.
“Tell me exactly what you did!” I demand. “Why would you take that picture? Lie to Ryder about the press having it to get rid of me?”
She takes a seat. “Ryder missed the bus that morning. The morning after he met you. He never missed the bus before, not once. Never. He was never even late.”
“So?”
“I knocked on his door, he opened, and I took one look at him, and I knew. I knew before he said a word, but he told me to cancel the next show. He said he wanted to stay with you for a few more days.”
Holy crap! It was real. I wasn’t crazy. He did feel something. I can’t hide the smile that comes to my face, and I don’t care if Maggie sees it or not.
“When I saw you with him at the music festival, I’d never seen him smile at a woman like that before. I don’t know why I took the picture exactly. I just did it. Maybe I did it just because it was good to see him happy. Then that next morning, I had to get him to leave. He had commitments, but he wouldn’t go. So I showed him the picture, and made up the story about the press having it.”
“Why?”
“I’ve seen him with woman after woman. In my eyes, you were just another. How could you really care for him after one night? But I knew the only way I could get him to leave you was if he thought he was protecting you, so I did what I had to do.”
“He didn’t want to leave me?” I whisper.
“No,” she says.
“Then why release the picture during that interview?”
“Like I told you before, Ryder wanted to see you, so I made it happen. I knew the press would go nuts. I knew that Ryder would again want to protect you. And honestly, I didn’t believe you were really pregnant, or that it was his. I thought I could teach him a lesson.”
“It’s not your job to teach him . . .”
“Old habits, I guess.”
My brows wrinkle up, having no idea what she’s talking about.
“He hasn’t told you how we met?” she asks, and I shake my head. “I used to teach in his high school. I was the music teacher. My very first job was in his hometown.”
Ryder told me there was never anything physical between them, but student/teacher romances aren’t unheard of. Was he lying? Maggie’s not that much older than he is. She could’ve been twenty-two when he was sixteen. That’s not crazy, but am I crazy for thinking it?
“He was a student,” I say. “You were a teacher.” It doesn’t come out as a question, but it is.
“Nothing like that,” she says. “I saw a student in trouble. I gave him an outlet—music. I could tell he had real talent. Raw, but natural talent.”
“And you’ve stayed with him all these years? Left your teaching job to be his publicist?”
“Ryder left school to do music and took his GED. His father was not happy. His mother was gone. I couldn’t let him go alone. He was not in a good place in his life.”
“But it wasn’t romantic?”
“Never,” she says. “I saw myself one day working in the music industry. It was my dream. Teaching was just my safety net. But when Ryder came along, I knew he had what it takes. He’s the whole package. I believed in him. It’s hard to explain.”
“You love him,” I say.
She looks at me meaningfully. “Ryder hates that word.”
“So you’ve never told him,” I say. “But you do love him.”
“Not the way you do,” she says with a smirk.
“I don’t love . . .”
She holds up her hand, stopping my protest. “You’re trying your hardest not to.” She nods to my belly. “A woman who hates the father of her baby doesn’t go to the lengths you did to find him.”
I feel my eyes start to well up. Maggie is a complete bitch, but here’s the thing about bitches—they are rarely bitches unprovoked. They’ve been hurt, so they build a wall of bitch to keep everyone out, and from the top of that wall, they get real damn good at observing other people. It’s how they always seem to know your weakness. Maggie’s found mine. That spark of love I first felt for him hasn’t completely gone out. I’ve tried to wish it away, but he’s given me this little life inside me that I love more than anything, and that’s kept the spark alive.
Yes, I’ve been angry at him. I can’t deny that. But I’ve also been angry that I don’t hate him. A little part of me loves him. He made me a mother.
Here we sit. Two women who love a man who doesn’t believe in love. Two women who have never told him. We may love him differently. Maggie and I couldn’t be more different, but we share this together.
“Why are you telling me this now? How do I know what you’re saying is true? That this isn’t just another lie to manipulate me.”
“Kailey,” she says. “I just gave you information that you could use to destroy me. Ryder will never forgive me for this. As soon as he finds out, things will never be the same between us.”
“Then why tell me?”