Preservation (16 page)

“
They’ve
been spotted? Was he just wearing Birkenstock sandals—with socks?” Ryan inquired with equal amusement and amazement. I dropped my head in my hands, grinning and shaking my head. “He does know it’s December...cold weather...right?”

“J Pod. The whales. Oh, Ry,” I patted his shoulder, wiggling out of bed, “with Dean, it’s never a dull moment.”

For the next few hours, it was my turn to give Ryan a Christmas present. He’d grown up in the Northwest but never visited the San Juan Islands to whale watch. It was like living in Orlando and never going to Disney World; wrong. He’d seen them plenty of times before in the Sound and off Elliot Bay, but I insisted he see them in San Juan. Something about it was pure magic. And catching them this time of year when the Southern Resident pods were usually elsewhere made it even more special.

We all hopped the ferry from Orcas Island to San Juan Island and watched the whales from Lime Kiln Point. The rich, mahogany madrona trees curled from the rocky shoreline around us, wrapping us in overcast sunlight, their peeling bark exposing their exotic beauty. Dean and Crystal shared the binoculars while Carter took pictures, Ryan hugging me from behind as we admired the majestic black and white giants as they sailed through the waters before us. Every now and then one would breach and another would follow suit, faint bursts of mist breaking the surface as they ascended to breathe.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” I whispered, mesmerized by the orcas charging forward in graceful unison, toward their next destination. Wanderers. Never idle for long, always foraging.
What that must be like.

After warm s’mores and the exchange of a few more gifts, we packed up and left our picture perfect Christmas seaside retreat, checked out of the hotel and caught the ferry back to Anacortes before sundown. The ferry carried us back to the Anacortes dock and the peaceful weekend floated away from us, a heavenly dream slipping off into another realm where it’d be stored to feed our memories in the years to come.

***

Reality was in full swing again; Dean and Carter’s New Year’s Easy Street Records gig was a huge success, Ryan returned to classes the second week of January, and my time card was full and healthy. Even with Ryan’s generous Christmas gift, I was determined to work as many shifts as possible to put some money away. It was an opportunity to get ahead, to save for tuition to return to school full time in the fall. In the meantime, I buckled down and continued work on the novel.

Rushing to grab my jacket, Ryan ushered me out the front door. “We’re going to be late, baby, let’s get a move on,” he locked the door and tossed me a scarf. Thanks to my preoccupation with my latest music muse, we were running late to the writing conference he’d signed us up for. He managed to get us on the attendee list at the last minute, and he was adamant we get there on time.

“You know me when I listen to my music. There’s no prying me away.”

“Yes, Ms. Parker,” he kissed my cheek and walked me to the elevator, “I’ve become well aware of the way your musical hypnosis distracts you.”

Unlike the Portland conference Ryan attended in the fall, this one was conveniently located in downtown Seattle. We checked into the posh hotel, freshening up before heading down to the buzzing lobby. Dinner was a formal affair, designed to serve as a mingling session before the conference the following morning. Ryan led me across the dance floor, stunning in his tux, Édith Piaf’s “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” crooning in the background. He definitely looked the part of a professor tonight.

“Mr. Campbell, I wonder what your sophisticated colleagues would have to say about your Poe-inspired raven tattoos under that fine dinner jacket of yours,” I shot him a sly smile and leaned in to rest my cheek to his.

“Oh, we’re all writers here, darling,” he joked in a stuffy, dignified tone, “we all have a little edge, and we’re all mad, anyway, didn’t you know?”

“As mad as the poem itself, I’m sure,” I laughed, my smile fading when I caught a glimpse of a petite brunette over Ryan’s shoulder, standing stoically against the wall, sipping champagne as she mingled. Her eyes were trained on mine, speaking under her breath to the woman next to her. Her eyes said trouble, body language screaming restraint. “Were you always a fan of Poe?” I reeled myself back to our conversation, pulling my gaze from hers.

“I wouldn’t say a fan, no. The tattoos were a stupid decision,” he cleared his throat, hand trailing down my bare back, pulling me closer when he reached my hip.

“
Mmmm
I love this dress on you, baby,” he leaned in to whisper. I refused to be distracted by his charming flattery. I wanted to know what was so stupid about my favorite tattoos.

“Really? Why’d you get them?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Would you like some champagne?” He stopped moving to the music, restless eyes searching the room.

“Sure, okay.” Taking his hand, I walked to the bar with him. He requested two glasses, stopping cold when the woman I’d noticed earlier approached us, requesting a drink of her own.

“Ryan,” her clip tone greeted him. She immediately sized me up from head to toe, her frigid smile telling me all I needed to know. She was another ripple in his history, clearly unnerved that he’d paid her no attention since our arrival on the dance floor.

“Felicia. Good to see you.” Ryan took our drinks from the waiter, his tone equally short.

“Is it?” she turned her eyes from him to me, holding out a stiff hand, her head held high. “I’m an old friend of Ryan’s. And you are?”

“This is Kate, my fiancée ,” Ryan answered before I could respond. I choked on my champagne but managed to quickly reign in my look of surprise. Felicia’s eyes widened and she took a step back, her short brown bob haircut bouncing with her step.

“Well, isn’t that...just fantastic,” she craned her neck forward, searching for my hand. “May I see the ring?”

My eyes darted to Ryan and I stammered, seeking a lifeline. “I’m actually not—”

“She’s not wearing it at the moment. Being sized at the jeweler’s, you know.”

“Oh? That’s a shame. I bet it’s lovely. Ryan has quite an eye for fine jewelry.”

I took another gulp of champagne and pressed my lips together, waiting for Ryan to jump in again before I responded. When he didn’t speak up, I leaped at the chance to fill the silence. “Yes, it’s quite the sight...”

“Ryan,” Felicia shifted her weight to her side, paying me no attention, “I’d love to hear Alisha’s thoughts on your engagement. How is she these days?”

Ryan sighed, swallowing some champagne. “Alright, Felicia. I think you’ve made your point. My relationship is none of her business and certainly none of yours, so if you’ll excuse us,” he set his empty glass down and started to lead me away. A young, tall, built man with blonde hair and dimples deflected our exit, boxing me in closer to the awkward meeting. He looked to be in his early thirties, with perfect teeth and a polished style that reminded me of a news anchor.

“Ryan? Ryan Campbell, is that you?” he held out his hand with a wide smile. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Mark, how the hell are ya, man?” They shook hands and Ryan gave Felicia the cold shoulder. I stepped back to avoid being sandwiched between them.

“Best of luck with your engagement,” Felicia’s tone suddenly turned sweeter as she made eye contact with me one last time. “He’s a real keeper.” Turning on her heel, she was gone.

“And who is this looker you have with you?” Mark turned to me now, eyeing me up and down.

“Ah, she’s with me,” Ryan gripped me tight. “This is Kate. Kate, this is Mark Burgess. We went to UW together.” He guided me forward by the small of my back.

“It’s a pleasure,” I extended my hand, forcing a smile. All I wanted was to get Ryan alone and ask him about Felicia. His knitted brow and tight smile told me he knew that was exactly what I wanted.

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Would you guys excuse me for a moment?” I let go of Ryan’s hand and gave them a polite smile, beelining for the door. Ryan fiddled with his tie and moved to let me pass by, watching as I strolled across the ballroom , grabbing my handbag from the table before exiting.

I dashed into the ladies’ room and splashed some cold water on my face, dabbing it with a towel before reaching for my compact.
Fiancée? What the hell was that all about?
And how many more ex-girlfriend run-ins could I handle? Hell, some of them weren’t even girlfriends. Just flings. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Maybe telling him about my long string of exes wouldn’t be so terrible in comparison.

Straightening my dress, I ran a fresh coat of burgundy lipstick over my lips. A faint sniffling sound overpowered the rustling of my handbag as I dug around for my cell phone. Tiny sobs began to echo through the restroom, bouncing off the black marble floors. The stall door behind me creaked open and out stepped Felicia, eyes blotchy with traces of runny mascara and a red nose that needed powdering. Her eyes dropped to the floor as she made her way to the sink. I stopped searching for my cell phone and gathered my handbag, turning for the door.

“I owe you an apology for that out there,” her voice stopped me. “I mean, I don’t even know you. I’m not a bitch, you know. Not one of those girls.”

My hands grasped tightly around my handbag, I remained in front of the door, my back to the crying woman.

“It’s just...running into him like that...and you. Well, you’re beautiful. And he’s protective of you, it’s so strange.” She exhaled a slow, even breath and I waited, pivoting around to face her. “If you’ve ever had the unfortunate experience of dealing with unrequited love, then you’d know. I’m not sure there is anything worse than one-sided love.” She leveled her eyes to the mirror, locking her gaze with mine. “Anyway, I’m sorry for my behavior. It’s horribly embarrassing and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Looking down, I reached in my bag and pulled out a tissue. “Here. Of course I forgive you. I know how awkward that was for me, and I can only imagine how this is for you. No hard feelings, really.” What more could I say to this poor girl?
Sorry I’m dating—er, marrying the man you love? Who the hell are you, anyway?
There was a part of me that ached for her, and another that burned with curiosity. What had Ryan done to leave her in this state? Had he run around on her with the busty, blonde students I’d had the privilege of meeting at the club that night? Was she another Alisha? A woman that Ryan couldn’t commit to, or when he did, she couldn’t trust him? My head started spinning, the thousands of possibilities swirling around with potential truth.

Without another word, she turned and reached for the door handle.

“Wait. Felicia?”

“Yes?”

I knew I’d regret it the moment I asked, but the temptation was too great. This would be my only chance to hear it directly from the woman’s lips. “Who were you, to Ryan? Was he unfaithful to you?”

She sniffled and raised the tissue to her nose, kept her eyes on the door handle. “I’m not sure who I was to him, but he was my world. He has this way of making you feel like you’re all he sees. That there’s nothing else in the room more important than you.” She lifted her her head. “And I was the one he cheated on Alisha with, so I’m no one to judge when it comes to fidelity.”

“I see.”

And that was it. She slipped out the door, leaving me with more questions than answers—the opposite of what I was aiming for.

My mood turned pensive, I returned to Ryan. He was still talking to Mark, watching me out of the corner of his eye as I approached them.

“So, Kate, Ryan here tells me you have a bestseller in the works.”

“He’s being kind,” I forced a smile and Ryan locked my arm in his, smiling down on me with a glint in his eyes. His smile was forced, too, but there was genuine pride on his face, so I dragged myself into the conversation, focusing as best as I could on this Burgess guy. “But I’m happy with the direction it’s headed and I hope to place it soon.”

“Well, Ryan and I have been discussing that. I’d love to meet you for lunch and take a look at it. How does that sound?”

Words. No words. Ryan gently nudged me, nodding his head.

“That sounds...wonderful. Thanks for the offer, I’d love to sit down and talk.”

“Excellent. Call me Monday morning and we’ll do lunch,” he handed me his card and patted Ryan on the shoulder. “It’s time I start making my rounds. See you in the morning?”

“Sure thing, man. Good seeing you again.” Ryan gave him a firm handshake. We stood there alone again, sounds of Frank Sinatra and glasses clinking surrounding us. “You ready?” he asked, rubbing his fingers around the base of his champagne glass, his eyes following the pattern.

“Yes.”

He turned and led me across the room, eyes on the exit sign.

14. TEACHER’S PET

Monday morning I sat with the phone in my lap, tapping it on my knee as I rehearsed what to say to Mark Burgess.
Be cool, Kate. Relax. This is only your shot at a possible publishing deal.
I swallowed, feeling the lump rise right back up in my throat. The rest of the weekend had been nerve-racking . The mood after the conference turned somber, the energy shifting after our run-in with Felicia. Ryan apologized the whole way home for introducing me as his fiancée, saying he wanted to make it clear he was in a committed relationship, to get Felicia off our backs. Not wanting to get caught up in his past, I dropped it and didn’t bother mentioning my run-in with her again in the restroom. But not for his sake. For hers. She deserved to hang on to a shred of her dignity.