Page 24 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

“I’m not. I’m repeating what you said.He’sgood. Not the relationship, not our future,he’sgood. Not me,him.Even after he’s cheated on me,he’sgood. I—” I stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. “Sorry. I’m losing my temper. But I stand by it. I feel like you care about him more than you do about me ever since I changed careers.”

She pursed her lips, eyes shimmering. “Ryan.How could you say that? Of course I care about you. Just because I disagree with you quitting your job at the height of your career doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Don’t know. Maybe I can leave it to you to work out why I might feel that way,” I said, my voice quivering as I turned back to the door. “I changed my mind. Don’t think I’ll be at dinner with everyone. Feel free to tell everyone, or not. I don’t feel like having this conversation with anyone else.”

“Ryan, you’re being immature,” she said, taking a step after me. “I know this is hard, but it’s only going to end up badly if you let it.”

I was being immature—not with Shane, but by walking out of the room without another word, shutting the door behind me, and I clenched my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms.

Kept doing it all the way back to my room, where I prayed desperately that Shane wouldn’t be there, and thank god, I got my wish—the room was quiet and empty, and I finally unclenched my hands, where I’d left long, thin imprints from my fingernails in my palms, and I let that sensation of pain stinging in thin lines distract me from the hard, heavy thoughts as I gathered my things.

Good things never lasted, though. I was in the middle of shoving clothes from the dresser back into my suitcase when I heard the door beep, and I looked up with a heavy feeling at where the handle turned and it pushed inward, Shane’s face suddenly like a stranger’s as he stepped inside, going through a hundred different expressions in an instant.

“Ryan—there you are. Where did you go all night long?”

“What do you want?” I was sounding petulant today. Maybe for the best. He dropped down on the chair close to where I knelt at my suitcase, and he leaned in towards me, brows knotted. He did a good job acting, looked genuinely worried.

“It’s dangerous to just go and wander around with no one knowing where you are. Did you get a hotel?”

“Stayed with Brooklyn, actually,” I said, not looking at him. He paused.

“Who—I don’t know who that is.”

I snorted. “Didn’t even get her name? The bartender you tried to sleep with. Honestly,” I said, throwing my last pair of pants into the suitcase and swinging it shut, and I turned to him with a tart look, “I can’t fault you on taste. She’s hot. I’m sure you’re disappointed you missed out.”

He frowned. “You stayed the night in a stranger’s house?”

“A stranger?” I laughed, thin and high-pitched. “Not a stranger to me. I even know her name, which was more than you had before you tried to sleep with her.”

He wrung his hands, jaw clenched. I should probably have been afraid. I knew the statistics—the most dangerous thing a woman could do was leave a man. He was an attractive, well-off man with good connections and a charm difficult to resist. I could see the way the headlines would paint it, how a fit of passion prompted by his jealous and controlling partner forced his poor, innocent hands to hit me. Still, for some reason, I wasn’t afraid. Guess I wasn’t surprised—I’d done a whole series on domestic abuse and women who escaped, and those women were tigers, nothing in the universe that could shake them. Shane was only a portion of what they had to go through, but I guess that meant I got a portion of the steely resolve they had. And a portion was enough.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean last night. I just couldn’t believe you’d think things like that about me, that you’d suspect something like that from me—”

“Shane, leave it,” I said, sighing as I stood up. “We weren’t happy with this. Go have what you want, do what you want. Find someone better for you. There’s no saving this, but it doesn’t have to be ugly.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’d had too much to drink and I lost my head. I’m an idiot, but I’d never go further than that. You’re incredible—I wouldn’t trade out an intelligent, creative and hardworking woman like you for some random girl at the bar.”

I felt like he’d slapped me, and I crossed my arms. “I want you to take that back.”

He frowned. “What—Ryan, I was complimenting you.”

“Brooklyn’s twice the woman you deserve.”

He shook his head, looking incredulously at me. “See, this is why I’m worried. She’s a random woman you don’t know anything about, but you’re putting all this trust in her just because…”

“Just because she’s more honest than you are? Because she’s the one who helped me when you hurt me?” I bent over to zip up my suitcase, and I stood it up, popping the handle out. “I’m not talking to you again until you take it back, at minimum. So… enjoy your vacation.”

“Ryan, what are you talking about?” He stood up with me, turning after me as I walked past him towards the door, suitcase rolling with me. “Will you stop? You’re being immature.”

That seemed to be the consensus. Especially since I didn’t give him a response, either—but then again, I had told him that I wasn’t talking to him again until he took back what he’d said about Brooklyn, so I think it held up just fine, as I walked quietly out of the room.

Chapter 8

Brooklyn

Greer tried to give me a dirty look when I stepped out from the back, still tying my apron on, but she didn’t have a very good dirty look. Came out more as a scrunchy little pout.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” I said, sidling up to clean up all Mari’s mess strewn over the counter. Girl could never clean up before her break. I still loved her, though. Not a lot, but a little.

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