“Really?” The word is laden with skepticism. “I ask because there’ve been some reports that Ryder was seen at a strip club last night with his brother.”
All the air gushes out of my lungs, and I grip my phone tightly. That must’ve been after our dinner. And the brother must’ve been Elliot. Blake and Lucas don’t indulge Ryder the same way. But despite his image, Elliot can be surprisingly sensible. I can’t imagine him dragging Ryder to a strip club. And why would Ryder go to one after our talk about trust? “Those reports must be mistaken,” I say. “Ryder was home last night.” Then I add, “With me.”
Why am I lying like this? Maybe I don’t want to look any more pathetic than I already do. But my stomach is churning, and what little I have in it wants to come up. I clench my teeth.
“Huh. Must’ve been an error, then,” Derek says. He sniffs. “Well, I’m disappointed about not getting that interview. Not gonna lie. But I’m happy for you that the wedding’s going to happen as planned. Calling it off now would look bad, especially for the bride.”
“Of course,” I rasp.
“Maybe in another month or two?”
I nod, then remember that I’m on the phone. “Yeah. Sure.”
I hang up and shove the phone back into my pocket. When Ryder came home drunk last night, I assumed he went out drinking with Elliot to blow off steam. The notion that he went someplace racier than your average bar never crossed my mind. The core issue between us has been his inability to trust that I’m not like Lauren. I trusted that he would keep his word to me—that he wouldn’t do anything to humiliate me. I guess my trust was misplaced, or else he has an odd definition of “humiliation.”
Unable to sit still, I walk home. My mind churns with thoughts, and my heart is full of conflicting emotions. But I have to talk to Ryder now. I don’t think I can function without that first.
When I walk in, Sue is coming downstairs with a black trash bag. “Are you all right?” she asks. “You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. I must look horrible for her to remark on it. But then she usually sees me all made up and everything. “Have you seen Ryder?”
“He just went to his office.”
“Thanks.” I walk up to the second floor.
His office is past the assistant’s—the one I used to work out of until a few days ago.
Ryder’s workspace isn’t exactly “corporate”. It’s a big area with lots of comfortable loungers and low tables that he can place drinks on. Instead of books, he has photos of places he’s been on built-in shelves. There’s also a fascinating bit of art on one wall: a nearly empty canvas with just a few black lines and lots of white space, done by a Korean artist. He paid some insane amount of money for it at an auction, calling it “beautiful emptiness.” I’m not sure if that’s actually the title of the piece or not.
He’s on a barcalounger, drinking another coffee. A stack of paper rests on his lap, and from the looks of it, he’s perusing another script. He glances my way. “Thought you went out for a walk.”
I close the door behind me. “I’m done now.” I take a love seat and cross my legs.
Setting aside the script, he sits up straight. His eyes are guarded. “You okay?”
“Is it true you went to a strip club with Elliot?”
Something flickers in his gaze, then he frowns. “Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Probably not.” He sighs. “Yes. Well, technically, I didn’t go with him. I met him at one because he was there and didn’t want to go anywhere else.”
“Am I
supposed to believe that?”
“Of course you’re supposed to believe it. You think I’m lying?”
He’s meeting my gaze straight on. Normally I’d think the person was telling the truth. But this is Ryder, one of the best actors around.
“Look, Paige. I don’t care what you heard, but nothing happened. And you know I’d never talk about private stuff in front of a bunch of strippers.”
“How do I know you went there to talk?”
A dull red rises in his cheeks. “Are you telling me you don’t trust me? Especially after that stuff about how trust is more a decision than anything?”
A fist lodges in my throat, and I can barely breathe. It takes a moment before I can gather my thoughts enough to speak. “This isn’t about tit-for-tat, Ryder.”