But no, sadly, we used the water to bathe, mask our disappointments, and attempt to exorcise unwanted demons from our thoughts.
The only reason Ryan was appearing somewhat lively and animated now was that his mother was sitting across the table from us, all shiny and happily oblivious. We both knew that all it would take was one slip and she would press for details. Lord knows neither of us was in the mood to be interrog-ated by Mom.
Ryan had enough on his plate. His day was packed with one-on-one interviews, a photo call, an open-panel Q&A with the press, and at the end a TV appearance on The Jimmy Collins Show. Taping was scheduled for 5 P.M.
“Ready to go, Ry?” Mike Murphy, Ryan’s personal bodyguard, asked as he slowly rose from the large dining table. Mike took extra care wiping his lips off on his linen napkin and then ran his hand through his short, dark brown hair, stalling while Ryan quickly shoveled more breakfast into his mouth.
I was so relieved that Mike had stuck with Ryan all these months. He was the only person within Ryan’s entourage that I truly trusted. He was there with us in the hospital when I lost the baby. He shielded us dili-gently when we dealt with our psycho-fan stalker and was by our sides so many other times that I lost count.
Ryan considered Mike to be one of his best friends and I regarded him as our own personal savior.
I glanced across the table and noticed Marie trying not to be conspicuous with her gaze, but I knew better. She and I had been best friends for so long; I knew the look she wore when she was stripping a man naked in her brain. And right now she had the former marine flat on his back on top of this table begging for her mercy. Can’t say I blame her.
Mike was thirty-two, very single, six foot three with an incredibly buff body, and to say he was merely good-looking would be insulting.
“Gotta go, babe,” Ryan said in my ear before he kissed me quickly, snapping me out of my internal speculations. He patted his jeans pocket. “You need anything, just call me. I have my phone set on vibrate. Mike gave you all of the security details for the show tonight and you have our credit card and stuff if you need it. Have fun shopping.
Whatever you ladies want, get. All right?”
“Got it.”
He gave me a hard, stern stare. “I mean it.”
That was his way of reminding me to get over my issues with spending his money.
“I know you do. I understand.”
“Good.”
He leaned in to give me another kiss.
“Get something sexy to wear for me,” he growled on my lips. “A few somethings, okay?”
I was glad to know thoughts of me in lacy undergarments were helping him step out of his funk. “You bet. Slutty towels in every color just for you.” Just as the words left my lips, I noticed one of the waitstaff take our picture on a cell phone.
Ryan tipped my chin and gave me a renewed smile, grinning at our private joke, oblivious to the girl stealing a piece of our moment. “That’s my girl. I’ll see you later.” While everyone finished their breakfasts and chitchatted, I found myself getting lost in my thoughts again from the void left behind by Ryan’s empty chair.
I pushed a piece of pineapple around on my plate, still feeling the tingle he left on my lips, wishing he didn’t have to rush so much, and hating that no private moment in public was sacred.
Marie and her husband, Gary, started sniping at each other again, pulling my attention with their hushed argument. They’d been fighting a lot lately, even getting into a heated argument on Sunday at our im-promptu engagement party held at their house. Gary had been so mad, he ended up getting in his car and leaving, causing everyone there to feel as though we were intruding. Every time I asked Marie what was going on she’d casually dismiss it, simply stating that he was being an ass again.
So I didn’t probe. Instead I drifted off into my own dilemmas, thinking how my mental breakdown over the last few weeks was such a ridiculous waste of energy. Had I known then what I knew now, all of the extra anguish and heartache swirling around the edges of my thoughts could have been avoided.
I glanced over at my other girlfriend, Tammy, who was buttering a piece of toast while her soon-to-be husband, my longtime friend Pete, talked and laughed heartily with Ryan’s brother and sister-in-law, Nick and Janelle. Ryan had arranged for everyone important in our lives to be here. Another reason I loved him dearly.
As I took in the faces of my most cherished support crew, a sad thought occurred to me.
While two weeks ago in Miami I had carried on uncontrollably like an immature little girl, crying and insisting that Ryan had cheated on me with Lauren Delaney, all of the people sitting at this table had known that he was going to propose.
How long had they all known his intentions? Weeks? Months?
Suddenly I felt like a huge ass all over again, quite embarrassed by my completely irrational behavior when my friends had to break my bedroom door down to get to me. I had been physically and emotionally broken, locking myself away from the world while thoughts of Ryan being unfaithful tore me to shreds. No wonder Marie slapped me across the face when I became somewhat hysterical.
I must have looked like a blithering idiot to all of them.
But I couldn’t stop the flood once it started. It drowned me.
I stared at the blank whiteness of the tablecloth.
How close I came to ruining this relationship—ending it, actually. Well, no more of that. Ryan has been nothing but faithful and trustworthy. He adores me and I want him more than I want my next breath.
“Taryn?”
Fingers touched my shoulder, startling me. Trish was standing behind me; her golden hair was pulled back by the sunglasses that rested on top of her head.
“Are you ladies ready?” Trish asked.
With a smile, I nodded and grabbed my purse. A large, chauffeured Suburban pulled up to the front doors and all of the ladies climbed in. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the “hall of many dresses.” Well anyway, that’s what Marie called it. She was right.
“Oh, what a day,” Trish sighed, eyeing a shimmery, burgundy-colored Prada gown. I had separated myself from everyone else to follow her through the rows.
“Bet you’re glad to be out here instead of in the office,” I commented, figuring she was enjoying shopping more than working.
“You have no idea.” Trish exhaled with relief. “Especially since she is on the warpath today.”
I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.
“I still don’t understand why she’s so angry about things,” I muttered.