Page 81 of Finding Our Reality

Fighting against her own emotions, she eventually lays her head against my shoulder, crying herself into a drunken sleep.

Chapter 27

ELLA

Ow.

My head hurts. My body hurts. Even my teeth hurt.

I quickly—and painfully—remember why I don’t actually drink. From now on, I’ll stick with just carrying the drink around with me. Rolling over, I sink into the plush mattress. Sniffing the pillow, Ry’s scent fills my nose.

And the scent of lavender.

Lavender sheet spray?

So… I’m at his place.

I can’t remember exactly what all happened last night, but I remember enough to know that I’m not proud of my behavior. And I remember enough to know that Ry has a child. Rubbing my breastbone, I try to ease the heartache consuming my hungover body.

Slowly, I open my eyes. The blinds are drawn tight, but the small amount of sunlight that breaks through lets me know it’s midday. Once my head stops spinning, I sit up and glance around the room, taking in my surroundings. King-size bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a plush wingback chair and ottoman. My blouse and skirt from the night before are draped across the back of the chair. Looking down, I rub my hands across the blueHarlan’sT-shirt covering my body. I don’t remember changing clothes last night, so I can only assume Ry changed them for me.

Despite the curdled feeling in my stomach, this room makes me smile. Color is everywhere. Cherry-colored wood furniture with reds, browns, creams, taupes, blues, grays, and golds. It’sthe complete and total opposite of the room I grew up in—the room I live in now. It does, however, remind me of my own bedroom at my house on the coast. The room I specifically decorated to carry no resemblance to the room—and the wing of the house—that my mother made for me.

Something on the nightstand catches my attention. Rolling over, I see a plate with two pieces of dry toast, a large sports drink, and a bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers. I pick up a torn piece of paper, eagerly reading his words.

Take 3 pills. Eat both pieces of toast. Drink the whole bottle.

Shower. A fresh toothbrush and towel are on the counter. (Hangover stink is the worst.)

Whatever you do, don’t go back to sleep after you wake up.

Come find me.

Taking his advice, I slowly climb out of bed when finished eating. Running my hands across my clothes from yesterday, I find them damp. Well, that can’t be a good sign.

Peeking through the blinds, I’m rendered speechless. Completely and totally speechless. Clambering for the string, I yank the blind open, pulling so hard, the faux wood slaps against the window frame.

The pond.

His pond.

Our pond.

There’s no mistaking it. Some of the trees have been cut, showcasing a bright green, manicured lawn. The small wooden dock has been rebuilt; it’s longer, stronger, sturdier. The concrete pad is still there, but the furniture surrounding the fancy firepit all matches now. No mismatched pieces of junk. Despite all the changes, there’s no question in my mind.

I’m at the homestead.

I can’t believe I never asked him where he lives. We’ve worked side by side all these months, and I never asked him where he lives. It never even occurred to me that he would live here. In a house. In what feels like a very big house, as a matter of fact. I just filed the homestead away in a closed and locked cabinet. A figment of my past, a figment of the happy time before Ry left me. Before his reality pulled him away.

I stare out the window for so long, my eyes actually start to water from the bright sun. With a shaky hand, I close the blind and head into the bathroom. I can’t help but laugh when I flip on the light. Ry always said that one day he would have the largest shower known to mankind, and I think his goal has been achieved. The bathroom is massive for just one person, and I realize that I’m naïve to think no one has ever lived here with him before. He has a child. There’s a very good possibility he and his ex-girlfriend shared this bathroom at some point.

A new green toothbrush and a plush gray towel sit in the middle of the double vanity. The marbled counter is a swirl of grays, browns, creams, and blues. The gray and cream tiled shower looks like it belongs in my parents’ mansion and not here, in the very place where I slept in a tent and brushed my teeth with water from gallon jugs.

I take my time showering, using his soap, shampoo, and conditioner. His scent overwhelms me. It fills the empty cavern of my soul. Pretending I don’t know what I know, I sit on the shower bench and let my fingers roam over my body. Touching myself, I dream of Ry… the Ry I used to know, the Ry I know now.

Well, the one I knew before yesterday afternoon. Before I found out he’s a father.

The moment I set foot outside this room, my life will change forever. He’ll tell me about having a child. He’ll tell me abouthow he met the girl’s mother. How he made love to her, how he watched her give birth, how he promised her they would always be a family.

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