Page 74 of Change of Plans

She gave Bryce a pointed look, which Bryce chose to ignore, focusing on her nieces instead. “I’ll…bring over your bags tomorrow before I head to Niagara Falls.”

“Oh, don’t worry about those. We have a key if we need anything. Besides, we’re going to take the girls shopping. They all need new clothes, and we’d love to treat them to a day at the mall.” Harvey smiled as June squealed with delight. “Won’t that be fun?”

Feeling exhausted and useless in the face of all this extravagance, Bryce forced a smile, giving each girl a hug and a kiss.

“Have fun as guest chef, Aunt Beamer.” Cecily yawned. “I know you’re gonna do great because you make the best things.”

June’s send-off was much chillier. She gave her aunt the driest of kisses on her cheek. “Bye. See you…whenever.”

Only Addison clung to her neck as she bent to kiss her goodbye.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her lower lip buckling as she tried hard not to cry. “I need you, Aunt Beamer. I need you to be my mommy.”

Bryce knew it was likely the pain medication making her say that, but the words pierced her chest. Before she responded, June snarled.

“She’snotour mom. She’s our aunt, and she has to leave.”

The room went silent. Bryce gave Addison one last kiss on her forehead. She avoided June’s glare, instead looking at Adele and Harvey as she pulled the folded paper from her pocket.

“I wrote up some tips about the girls’ schedules to make the week easier for you.”

“Thank you.” Harvey took the paper. Without reading it, he stuffed it into his pants pocket. “But it’s not the first time we’ve had our granddaughters. I’m sure we’ll manage. Now, who wants hot chocolate with marshmallows?”

Bryce let herself out the front door, feeling like the world’s worst caregiver.

***

Five restless hours of sleep later, she was on her way to Niagara Falls, the feelings of inadequacy having quadrupled. Bryce’s guilt over Addison’s injury made her question her choices. Who was she to parent three kids? These past months, she’d barely stayed afloat. It was probably only sheer luck that her incompetence hadn’t resulted in an injury to her nieces before. Maybe the Paynes were right—maybe the girls would benefit by living with someone with time and experience as a parent? Not to mention that there were two of them, so they had her beat in sheer number of bodies working to care for the girls.

She’d tried to call Ryker after leaving the girls at their grandparents’ last night—she’d been desperate to have someone she trusted to talk to. Yet his phone went directly to voicemail, and she hung up without leaving a message, figuring that was for the best. He was an excellent problem solver and a generous man—but he didn’t love her. Although he’d sent a mechanic joke late last night, his lack of a return call felt deliberate. He obviously didn’t want to talk.

Thoughts and doubts swirled in her head as she checked in to her hotel, changed into her chef’s coat, then drove to Cascade, the farm-to-table high-end restaurant she’d be working at this week. Her phone buzzed once on the way.

Ryker.

Unfortunately, she was using her phone for GPS and couldn’t take the call without losing the display in downtown Niagara Falls, and just as she pulled into the restaurant’s employee parking lot, the call went to voicemail. Ten seconds later, her phone buzzed with a message. Exiting her car, she breathed in the crisp air, the roar of Niagara Falls in her ears, although it was blocked from view by the restaurant. As she walked toward the swanky eatery, Bryce played Ryker’s brief voicemail, her eyes going up to watch the gulls diving in the sky overhead.

“Bryce, if you get the chance, can you call me later?” Ryker’s voice sounded jubilant. Almost buoyant. It confused her. Her chest ached with missing him, but from the sounds of it, he was having the time of his life. “I know you’re working, but um…we need to…I’d like to talk to you. Okay, bye.”

Then, instead of the voicemail ending, there was a smooshing, wet noise, followed by the deep rumble of Ryker’s voice, like he was talking low and personal to someone standing close to him. The phone sounded far from his mouth, but she could clearly make out his voice right before the call disconnected.

“Heyyyy, sexy,” he said. And then, he gave a deep, throaty laugh—the hot one that always made her breath catch. “Go easy on me, sweethea—”

What. The. Hell?

She played the message three times, but she couldn’t figure out who he was talking to, except another woman. He wouldn’t use that tone with a Marine buddy—or if he did, he had more going on with Tarun than just friendship. And he was using “sweetheart”—a word she’d never heard him use. Not to his goddaughter, Elise, not to her nieces. Not to her.

Even if the “sweetheart” comment was innocent, which was a debatable point, nobody left a voicemail like that, saying they needed to talk, when they had anything good to say.

She pressed Delete. Closing her eyes, she battled the widening hole in her chest—the place where Ryker lived, the place where her nieces had taken up residence. She took a box breath, breathing in four counts, holding four, releasing in four counts, then nothing for four. Patty had been right. She needed to make a map. Get above the trees and figure out her life. Her priorities. Her next steps. No matter what change of plans next week might bring with her nieces, or with Ryker, she needed to take this time and discover what she wanted.

Imani said to use this time as a gift. Gazing down at the phone in her hand, at Ryker’s number, Bryce decided to give herself another gift. The gift of a week without worrying that she’d have to hear a breakup speech. A gift of time to figure her own shit out before returning to Wellsville.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she blocked Ryker’s number, then, with a swipe of her thumb, deleted his contact from her phone entirely. Although she knew it wasn’t permanent—hell, she could call either Imani or Patty and have his number again in a heartbeat—it felt momentous. Now she couldn’t drunk-text him, or—in the more likely case—lonely-stressed-out-text him.

For the next five days, she would think. Make a map. Discover herself. Just. Be.

Opening her eyes, she took the steps to Cascade two at a time.

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